I’m an American who moved to Italy 11 years ago. It’s completely changed my definition of success.

After getting my first job at 14 years old, I became hardwired to feel like my life would be a combination of school, work, and limited play until I retired.

That mindset followed me everywhere, including across the Atlantic, when my husband, children, and I moved from Cleveland to Rome in 2014.

After spending time in Italy’s capital, we decided to move our family farther south to Mormanno — a quiet town tucked in the mountains with less than 3,000 people — and have been there since.

When we first moved, I expected to experience culture shocks in relation to the language, the food, and maybe even the fashion. What I didn’t expect, however, was to come face-to-face with just how deeply American my relationship to rest really was.

I didn’t realize how addicted I was to productivity as an American

For most of my life, being busy felt like my default setting. I genuinely believed that if I wasn’t actively working toward something, I was falling behind.

I’d internalized the idea that a relentless work ethic was how you achieved the American dream.

So, when I moved to a place where people unapologetically paused their days — not just for vacation, but for lunch, coffee, or for no reason at all — I didn’t know what to do with myself.

I’d watch my neighbors sit on their balconies for hours in the middle of a workday, chatting or doing nothing, and it drove me crazy on their behalf.

When I’d walk past cafés where people lingered over espresso, I’d feel a wave of unease, even though I had nowhere to be.

Trying to slow down made me question my self-worth

For the first six years after my move, I felt like I was having a mini identity crisis. I was 29 years old and still questioning my value if I wasn’t actively being productive.

The tension started wearing on me. My body felt anxious, and my mind felt like it was always searching for the next task.

Meanwhile, the world around me wasn’t rushing; it was inviting me to slow down. After years of resisting it, I finally started to let go.

The change started gradually and was mainly the result of other moms consistently inviting me to the local café for espresso. I didn’t want to keep sounding rude by declining, so I gave in for the first time and found myself antsy making small talk at 10 a.m.

From there, I accepted more invitations to hang out with friends and started to learn to be OK with taking unscheduled breaks.

I realized I needed the rest

When I first started to slow down, I felt like failure. But then, something strange happened — I started to feel better.

Self-care, which I’d always deprioritized, started to become part of my routine. I began to give myself permission to take walks without listening to a podcast and sit in the town square with nothing but my thoughts.

I learned that “dolce far niente,” the Italian phrase for the sweetness of doing nothing, isn’t laziness. Rather, it’s intention, presence, and an understanding that rest isn’t something you earn, it’s something you need.

Living in Italy hasn’t made me less ambitious, but it has allowed me to measure success a little differently.

Yes, I still work hard, but happiness and peace of mind mean more to me now. After all, what good is the money if you’re too busy to enjoy it with the people you love most?

At the end of the day, I know that I’m allowed to live my life — even when I’m doing absolutely nothing.

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