Dolce Far Niente

Or the sweetness of doing nothing, perfected by Italians and the most challenging thing for my ADHD brain.

After reading the book, watching the movie, and following Liz Gilbert on social media, I decided to listen to the audiobook of Eat, Pray, Love. I know the story, but there’s something about having Liz tell it in your ears that makes it even sweeter and more inviting.

Italy holds a special place in my heart. In 1997, I joined an Italian Himalayan expedition to Cho Oyu, the sixth-highest mountain in the world at 8,201m. At the time, I was fluent in Portuguese and Spanish and had a working understanding of English. I met the expedition leader while climbing Aconcagua in the Argentinian Andes, and he invited me to join them. We spent about a month at the Advanced Base Camp (5,800m/19,028ft) attempting the climb. After two weeks of barely speaking any language, one day, I simply started speaking Italian. My teammates were surprised—they couldn’t understand how I had learned so quickly. (Spoiler: I had to unlearn Spanish to make room for Italian in my brain!)

Italian became my favorite language—to speak, to listen to. As time passed and opportunities to practice faded, so did my fluency. But as I listened to Liz explain why so many people go to Italy just to learn a language they may never need, I realized I’m not alone in this passion.

All of this to say—hearing Liz talk about Dolce Far Niente, the sweetness of doing nothing that Italians cherish so deeply, made me realize that I am only now, at 55, truly learning its meaning. My ADHD diagnosis a couple of years ago played a crucial role in this realization. Understanding why you do what you do, and how you’ve navigated life with an undiagnosed neurodivergence, changes everything.

It becomes so much easier to give yourself grace when you understand the why. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to stop and smell the flowers—it’s that I didn’t know how to. I remember the constant internal negotiations, treating free time as a reward:

Helena, you can sit and read your super-duper-interesting book once you finish doing laundry, cleaning the house, cooking for the week, grocery shopping, and everything else you need to do before you indulge in your pleasures!

This script was on repeat for so many years that my so-called “free” days often left me with only a few minutes of reading, while the rest was filled with chores. Then my mom would tell me how impressed she was with my energy—“It’s endless!” she’d say. Now, I have a word for it: It’s not endless energy, Mom, it’s ADHD!

When I decided to spend this winter at home instead of downhill skiing, I wondered how I would fill my days. I am pleased to say that I have finally slowed down enough to allow myself hours of reading, if I feel like it. Or writing. Or knitting! Some might say I’m still doing something, but for someone who has always been in constant motion, this shift is a significant change—one that I am welcoming with open arms and no guilt.

And you? What does your version of doing nothing look like?