I turn 45 at the end of this month. And unexpectedly, I’m really excited about it.

Not because I figured out some magical secret to grow older. But when I look at myself now compared to the woman who moved here from Belgium, I realise something has changed: I became more kind. And I think Portugal has a lot to do with it.

I moved here looking for a slower, simpler life. And somehow, without really noticing it, this place has changed more than just the rhythm of my days. It has changed the way I look at myself, at other people, at life.

Scrolling through Instagram these days, the algorithm seems to think that turning 45 means I should be extremely worried about wrinkles. Apparently, this is the moment to start fighting gravity, finding the latest thing that is “better than Botox”, surviving on green juices, making my body look smaller, my skin look younger. And, obviously, I should stop drinking wine. Forever.

Well… kinda care, kinda don’t.  I mean, of course I care about looking good. I love feeling strong, to train, to feel healthy and take care of myself. But I don’t want to spend the next 45 years trying to look like I’m 25. Why would I?

My face has changed because I have changed. My body has changed because I have lived in it for 45 years. And I kind of like that. Maybe this is one of the things Portugal has taught me.

There is something about living here that makes me less interested in fighting everything. The weather helps, the ocean definitely helps. Spending so much time outside helps. But it’s also the people: I see women here who let their hair go grey without losing even an inch of their spark. Women who don’t seem to measure themselves by how they look, how successful they are, or how big their network is. They just seem to be… themselves. There’s something incredibly refreshing about that.

For a long time, even taking care of myself came with rules. You have to work out every day, you have to eat healthy every day. You have to relax at this time of the day. Even relaxing somehow became another thing you had to be good at. I thought I was letting go, but I was still actively trying to let go.

Now? I mostly just live. I realised lately that I totally stopped putting rules in my head. I’m just doing the things. I train because I love feeling strong, not because I have to look good. I eat well because I like the food I’m eating.  I drink wine because sometimes a good glass (or more) of wine is exactly what I want.

And sometimes I’m just tired. Sometimes I eat crap. Sometimes I drink too much. Sometimes I don’t train at all. Sometimes the world has simply sucked every last bit of energy out of me and the only thing I want to do is absolutely nothing. And I’m okay with that. That’s just life, not a failure. Not something you have to compensate for tomorrow.

I guess that’s what getting older in Portugal is giving me: less noise in my head. Less judging, less trying to get everything right. That’s so exhausting. I came here because I wanted to slow down. I didn’t realise I would also learn to be more gentle with myself, with other people.

Maybe that’s why turning 45 feels so good; I’m not pretending age doesn’t matter, but because it does. I’ve lived, I’ve changed, learned. I’ve lost, grieved, cried, made mistakes. Like all of us. I started over. Made more mistakes. I built a life that I never could have imagined how difficult it would be when I left Belgium. Or how good it would become. And now I look in the mirror and see all of that.

So no, I don’t need to look 20. I don’t need to drink green powders every morning. And I’m definitely not giving up wine 🙂

I’m happy to take care of myself, to grow older. I’m not trying anymore to become someone else, or to become ‘a better version of myself’. Maybe that’s the real gift of getting older. And for sure, Portugal helped me find it.

Saúde. Cheers to 45.