'I moved to Italy at 40 because my life in Australia was "fine." And that was the problem.'

They say 30 is the age you're supposed to have your life sorted.

Partner, house, career, finances. So, when I was six months from turning 40 and my life looked the same as it had ten years earlier, I knew something had to change.

I found myself staring at a life that looked perfectly fine on paper, and honestly, was perfectly fine. A city I loved. The most supportive family and friends I could ask for. I'd built a PR agency. And yet, something didn't feel completely right anymore.

There were no big commitments keeping me in Australia. No relationship. No mortgage. No major investments. And most of all, no real motivation or excitement to thrive off.

Italy had always lived somewhere in the background. It makes up half of my heritage. It's a place I'd visited but had always felt drawn to. My life in Australia was starting to feel predictable, and I decided it was time to do something completely the opposite.

Watch: The Euro tour of your 20s no longer exists. Post continues after video.

Of course, there were whispers of doubt.

Don't people move overseas in their 20s, not their 40s? But I've always been a little impulsive, so I didn't give those thoughts much space. I kept thinking: "if I don't do this now, maybe I never will."

It didn't have to be permanent. I just needed to try.

Turning a dream into reality.

Once I made the decision, I sprang into action.

I joined a "move to Italy" boot-camp, hired an immigration lawyer, started learning the language, listened to Italian podcasts. A friend even lent me a copy of Eat Pray Love for motivation!

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was working towards something that actually felt good.

I knew I could apply for Italian citizenship through my heritage, but Italian bureaucracy is not something anyone can truly prepare for. It's famously unforgiving, and navigating the citizenship process tested every ounce of patience I had. There were many days I lost sleep worrying about whether it would all actually happen.

When I arrived, I didn't land in Florence, Rome or Milan. Instead, I settled in Lecce, a baroque city in southern Italy I'd never even heard of before. It came recommended by my lawyer, Valentina, who assured me it would be much quicker to obtain citizenship from here. Despite having southern Italian roots, I'd never been south of Rome — and now here I was, starting a new life in the heel of the boot.

"I kept thinking: if I don't do this now, maybe I never will." Image: Supplied

Valentina, my now friend, was waiting for me with a bag of groceries, homemade bread and my keys. We chatted. I made my bed. Then I took myself out for dinner at the very early southern Italian time of 7pm. I remember sitting at the bar, the kitchen staff completely baffled that I wanted dinner when the kitchen wasn't even technically open.

In the months that followed, I filled my days getting to know Lecce, my new city, studying Italian and slowly adding new friends into the mix. The pace was so much slower. I started to unwind. To relax, even embracing the afternoon siesta.

These days, my mornings are calmer than they ever were in Melbourne. I walk to the local pasticceria for an espressino (common here in Salento), I do some work from home and usually exchange a few clumsy Italian sentences with the people who now recognise me.

Valentina (left) quickly became a firm friend. Image: Supplied

Nothing about it is remarkable, and maybe that's what is so nice about it.

There's no rush, no sense that I'm already behind before the day has started.

The shops are closed from 1pm to 5pm. Anything with a start time of 8pm usually starts at 10pm. And trying to plan social arrangements a few days in advance with an Italian is virtually impossible. Everything is "vediamo" (we will see).

Adjusting to the quieter life in Italy. Image: Supplied.

Things that would have sent my anxiety spiralling back home now force me to slow down and adapt. Italy doesn't bend easily to schedules or expectations and learning to live with that has been equal parts frustrating and strangely freeing.

And when I say it's slow, that doesn't mean it's boring or quiet either. Italians have a way of making everything feel alive. A new month brings a new day to celebrate. All get-togethers involve food, passion and lots of laughter.

As an extremely social person, I've found moving here to be completely fulfilling. I spend time with people from all over the world, from all different nationalities and of varying ages.

What I didn't realise was that Italy wouldn't just change my address; it would change how I saw myself.

The transformation I never saw coming.

For the first time in years, I felt like I could breathe.

I wasn't trying to reinvent myself or run from a past I was ashamed of. I just needed something new. Something that made me feel alive again.

At 40, I had an emotional maturity I didn't have at 25. I knew myself better. I was more confident. I understood my limits. Coming from a background in PR, with deadlines constantly hanging over my head, it was grounding to find a sense of belonging that wasn't tied to productivity or achievement.

Eventually, after law changes, endless appointments, document retrievals and do-overs, I secured my Italian citizenship in eight months. Probably three times faster than if I'd done it in Melbourne. When I held that passport in my hand, I realised it had all been worth it and I'd made the right decision.

"Italy wouldn't just change my address; it would change how I saw myself." Image: Supplied

But the passport wasn't the real transformation.

The real shift was internal.

I stopped seeing my age as a liability, the way I had before turning 40, and started focusing on how I felt and what actually made me happy.

When people tell me they're "too old" to make a big change, I encourage them to do whatever it is they're avoiding. We're taught that certain life changes have an expiry date, but they don't have to.

At 40, I wasn't late. I was finally ready.

Feature Image: Supplied

Stefanie Reilly is an Australian-born relocation specialist now based in Salento, Puglia. After relocating to Italy at 40, she now helps others make the move to southern Italy via www.italyandback.com.