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Burnout, Brussels, and Becoming Me

When I came back from Moscow, slipping into my old routine felt almost impossible. What I missed most was my freedom.

green trees and brown and white concrete building during daytime

When I came back from Moscow, slipping into my old routine felt almost impossible. What I missed most was my freedom:

  • The freedom to walk down the street without being recognized.
  • To go home whenever I wanted.
  • To sit alone at a café without drawing weird looks (a rarity in my hometown).

But real life was waiting: final exams and the dreaded conclusion to my Master’s thesis—the last painful chapter of my Italian academic journey.

Thesis Misery: A Bitter End to Five Years

I studied at Bocconi University in Milan. Sure, it gave me an “extra gear”—but at what cost?

The thesis process was the worst. My supervisor, a professor from the Graduate Institute of Geneva, made me wait weeks between every revision. I’m convinced she never even read it. I nearly missed the final submission deadline because of her carelessness. Honestly, it was a shameful way to treat students.

On the bright side, I used the university’s psychological support service—and I’m proud to say so.

At that time, I felt like a complete failure. I thought I’d wasted five years of my life and my parents’ money. I wasn’t a top student, but I wasn’t the worst either. Still, I couldn’t find any light in all of it.

Until one session with a psychologist changed everything.

She told me something I’ll never forget:

“You’re lucky. You realized at 25 that Law isn’t for you. I forced myself through it and only understood at 52 that I hated it.”

She saved me. I left that room crying, but finally, I had a new lens to look through.

March 2018: Graduation, Anxiety, and a Gut Feeling

I graduated on 28 March 2018. A nightmare had ended—and the unknown began.

By February, when my thesis was done, I had this sudden instinct: “Maybe I should learn French?” So I opened Duolingo. No clear goal—just gut feeling.

At that point, besides some Persian, a little Russian, and three years of school German, I had no real language strategy. But French felt… possible.

Meanwhile, I was applying for jobs. Mostly in Milan. Some in Rome. My only requirement:

“I don’t want to do something I hate.”

But I fell into the same trap again—and this time, I had no tolerance left.

The Job Hunt Spiral

I was in a bad place - anxious, hopeless, desperate. I kept going to interviews, but no offers came. I must have looked terrified and insecure, ready to accept anything.

I didn’t know how to sell myself, and I was tired of pretending.

I applied for jobs in PR, lobbying, or risk analysis. Most were in Rome, a city I’ve grown to dislike more with each visit. Every time they asked, “Are you aware you'd need to move to Rome?” I said yes—with the expression of someone receiving a prison sentence.

Eventually, my desire for financial independence became urgent. I didn’t even care what job I got anymore—just not a law firm, please.

That’s when I started applying abroad.

Hello Brussels

Before that, I’d never seriously considered moving abroad. Not even after Moscow. But now I was ready. And Brussels—home of lobbying and EU institutions—was calling.

I applied for a communications internship at a lobby firm. In less than 20 days, I had a contract. Everything moved fast.

In 2018, my initial salary of €940/month covered rent and basic living costs in Brussels. Compare that to Milan: one known offer I saw was €600 + meal vouchers, and rent was much higher.

My contract was later renewed for six more months with a bump to €1,100. Still modest—but much better than Italy.

Landing on My Feet: Brussels, 30 June 2018

The joy of financial independence was overwhelming. I still get emotional thinking about those first weeks.

I would go to bed smiling. Wake up smiling. Commute smiling. Work smiling. I felt like I was living in a dream.

And no, I didn’t forget Moscow or Iran.

In fact, the first shops I visited were a Russian and an Iranian one. I still remember speaking to a Russian cashier who said I had a Bulgarian accent—a comment that cracked me up.

French Classes & Harsh Realizations

I signed up for classes at the Alliance Française - because it was “prestigious.” But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this:

Never underestimate the power of marketing and the myths around language institutes.

Also:

“Accept any job offer,” they said…

Stay tuned for the next episode ;)