Trixy Life

One of the proverbs my grandmother repeatedly repeated to me as a child was:

“Chi va piano, va sano e va lontano.”

Literal translation: “Who goes slowly, goes safely and goes far.”

English equivalent: “Slow and steady wins the race.” (Chi va piano, vince la gara.)

There are other English proverbs with a similar meaning:

• “Haste makes waste.” (La fretta fa sprechi.)

• “Rome wasn’t built in a day.” (Roma non è stata costruita in un giorno.)

• “Good things come to those who wait.” (Le cose belle arrivano a chi sa aspettare.)

At the time, I didn’t fully understand the meaning. I was always impatient, impulsive, and in a constant rush to achieve whatever I had set my mind on. Slowing down felt like a waste of time. But life, as always, had its way of teaching me otherwise.

A life lived in fast-forward

As a teenager, everything in my world was black or white – there was no middle ground. I wanted things now, immediately, yesterday if possible! If I had a goal, I would throw myself into it headfirst, sprinting toward it at full speed, without stopping to consider whether I was actually enjoying the process.

I lived at full throttle in every aspect of my life. And in many ways, that wasn’t a bad thing. That drive, that fire inside me, pushed me to take risks, to dream big, and to throw myself wholeheartedly into everything I did. It gave me resilience, determination, and the ability to fully commit. But what I lacked was patience. I wasn’t willing to let things unfold naturally; I needed to control the timeline. It felt like slowing down meant missing out.

I remember the frustration when things didn’t happen as quickly as I wanted. I would feel restless, unfulfilled, always chasing the next thing, never stopping to appreciate what I had already accomplished.

And then came Pietro.

Marrying a long-distance runner

Pietro is the complete opposite of me. He takes his time. He thinks things through. He paces himself. If I was a sprinter, he was a marathon runner.

In the beginning, his approach drove me crazy. How could he be so calm? Where was his urgency? His drive? Why wasn’t he running alongside me at full speed?

One of the biggest examples of this was when we decided to move to England. Well, actually – when I decided. Because in my mind, I had already packed our bags. I was already searching for schools for the kids, looking up neighborhoods, checking out local libraries. Meanwhile, Pietro was still processing the idea.

I remember him telling me one day, “Valentina, while you are already sprinting towards the future, I am still walking.”

At the time, I didn’t understand it. But looking back, I realize that his way was not just different – it was better.

Slowing down for the people I love

Motherhood was the first real brake in my life. When Elisa was born, I still had that restless energy, but Marco was different. He, like Pietro, needed time. Time to adapt, time to feel comfortable, time to adjust at his own pace. And so, I had to learn to wait.

One of the best examples of this was when Pietro and I took English pronunciation lessons in England. Every day, he would practice, repeat, refine. His progress was steady but consistent. Me? I wanted to get it right immediately. If I struggled with a sound, I’d try a few times, and if I didn’t get it, I’d just move on to the next one. The result? He improved faster than I did – because he embraced the process, while I was obsessed with the outcome.

I had to be patient, present, and attentive to their needs – not just my own.

But even then, I still had that impulse to rush things in my own life.

Recognizing myself in my daughter

And then Elisa became a teenager. And suddenly, I was watching a younger version of myself navigating life with the same impatience, the same frustration, the same urgent desire to have it all, right now.

It was difficult. Because while I understood exactly what she was feeling, I also knew that rushing through life steals the joy from the journey.

I wanted her to understand that good things take time, that the best victories are the ones we work for, that the process is just as important as the result. But how could I teach her something that I was still learning myself?

And then I realized – the answer was in my own experience.

Why learning to slow down changed everything

For years, I had been running – not towards something, but away from something. From my own anxieties. From my fears. From the discomfort of standing still and facing them.

Slowing down meant having to sit with those emotions, to acknowledge them instead of outrunning them.

And it wasn’t easy.

But I finally understood that patience doesn’t mean settling. It doesn’t mean giving up or slowing down indefinitely. It means pacing yourself, being consistent, and actually enjoying the journey.

Because when you slow down:

• You make better decisions: no more impulsive, regrettable choices!

• You appreciate what you already have: instead of always chasing the next big thing.

• You achieve more in the long run: without burning out along the way.

• You actually enjoy the victories: instead of rushing to the next challenge.

And in the last few years, I have been trying to apply this to everything – including this blog.

Related posts:

• Understanding mindfulness
• 9 Practical mindfulness techniques for busy people
• 9 Effective ways to manage anxiety

Building something that lasts

When I started this blog, I wanted results immediately. I wanted it to grow fast, to reach people, to make an impact overnight. But just like everything else in life, it needed time, patience, and consistency.

So I found a rhythm that I could sustain. One that allows me to write, connect, and grow without burning out. And the results? Slow but steady. Exactly how they should be.

Looking back, I feel a kind of tenderness toward my younger self – so eager, so impatient, so desperate to sprint through life.

I wish I had known then what I know now: that running faster doesn’t get you further. It just makes you miss the beauty of the journey.

I hope Elisa learns this lesson sooner than I did. Watching her grow, with that same intensity and drive I once had, makes me wish for her to embrace the beauty of patience and savor the journey, not just rush to the destination. I want her to experience the joy that comes from taking the time to reflect, to appreciate the little things, and to realize that life isn’t always about doing more, but about being more present in each moment.

Because truly, “chi va piano, va sano e va lontano.“

Thank you for spending time with me today!

See you next time.

Valentina