The Year Everything Fell Apart (And How I Put It Back Together)

I once heard a chef on a Greek cooking show say, "If the dough doesn’t tear a little when you stretch it, you’re not doing it right." At the time, I nodded as if this culinary wisdom could beef up my baklava game. It wasn’t until much later that I realized those words weren’t just about pastry—they were about life.

Let me take you back to my year of tearing dough. The one where everything unraveled—career ambitions, relationships, even my sense of self—and how I found a way to knead it all back together into something stronger. Spoiler alert: it didn’t involve a cheesy redemption montage, though it occasionally featured me eating cheese in bathrobes.

The Domino Effect

It started the way most crises do: quietly. At first, I chalked up the cracks in my life to bad luck. A missed career opportunity here, a stilted conversation with my partner there. We’ve all had those moments, right? But by spring, the cracks had multiplied. Like a Greek coastline eroding in a storm, the foundation of my life was slipping out to sea.

Professionally, I was on the rocks. The hotel I had painstakingly run had just been sold to a chain. I felt like Odysseus watching Ithaca fade into the horizon—lost, unsure, and wondering if my best days had been left behind. Personally, my partner of five years and I found ourselves in endless arguments, the kind where you start to suspect you’re just rehearsing for an inevitable curtain call.

And then, in a move that felt like Zeus himself tossing a lightning bolt, my mother’s health took a turn for the worse. As the eldest son in a proud Greek family, you suddenly become the de facto emotional buoy. But what happens when you’re too busy drowning yourself to keep others afloat?

It was the year I learned that even the strongest rope can fray when it’s pulled too tight.

Finding Philosophy in the Chaos

At some point, lying on my sofa surrounded by uneaten souvlaki and an ever-growing Netflix queue, I remembered a quote from Heraclitus: “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.” In other words, change is inevitable. But hearing those words in my father’s scratchy voice, I wondered—were they permission to drift along with the current or encouragement to swim against it?

I decided it was time for me to accept, not fight, the chaos. Let everything—work, love, even my self-worth—fall all the way apart. There’s something liberating about reaching rock bottom because it’s the sturdiest ground you’ll ever stand on.

Life Lessons From Mykonos Sunsets

That summer, I went back to a place I’ve always considered home: a friend’s small villa on Mykonos. There, I leaned into simplicity. I spent mornings drinking coffee under fig trees, afternoons swimming in the Aegean, and evenings rediscovering a food-language-flirtation dance that had always sent my soul into a sirtaki of joy.

It was during one of these quiet evenings that I had my epiphany: I needed to stop trying to rebuild the same life I had before. That version was gone. Instead, I had to create something new, brick by brick… but also learn to live with a few cracks in the walls.

Here are the three lessons Mykonos taught me about starting over:

  1. Your Own Rhythm Is Sacred.
    Watching the fishermen haul their nets every morning, I was struck by the rhythmic dedication of their work. Life is a lot like fishing—it’s less about the flashy catches and more about the rituals. Develop your rituals, whether it’s journaling over coffee or calling an old friend every Sunday. These little actions anchor you.

  2. Your Value Isn’t Your Productivity.
    In Greek culture, meals regularly last hours, not because we’re extravagant (okay, a little) but because slowing down is the point. You’re not your to-do list or your work achievements. Sometimes, sipping ouzo and watching the sea ripple is the most productive thing you can do.

  3. Be Open to Surprises.
    I once ordered a seafood dish in a taverna only to end up with something that looked—and smelled—like Poseidon’s leftovers. I was ready to complain when the cook explained it was a delicacy. I gave it a chance, and it turned out to be sublime. Life works the same way. What you thought you’d hate might be exactly what you need.

The Bridge Back to Connection

You might be wondering, "What about the relationships? Did they survive too?" In some ways, they did. In others, they didn’t—and that’s okay. My partner and I parted ways not out of anger but out of the realization that we had finished serving each other’s stories. It was bittersweet but necessary.

But I reconnected with someone else: myself. (Cue the cheesy violin solo.) After years of people-pleasing, managing a business, and prioritizing everyone else, I finally asked what I wanted. Turns out, it wasn’t a high-flying career or the picture-perfect relationship. It was balance. I began rebuilding friendships I had let languish, starting with simple texts and overdue apologies. I traveled to London to see university classmates. And I went back to Athens, where I sat with my mother and talked about everything but her illness.

The result? Even when life felt like an unfinished puzzle, these moments of connection glued the edges together.

How to Mend Your Broken Year

If you’re facing your own Year of Tearing Dough, take heart. Here’s what I learned about stitching life back together:

  1. Don’t Fight the Mess. Embrace It.
    Whether you’re navigating a breakup, a career upheaval, or just existential confusion, stop trying to duct tape everything together. Let yourself fall apart. There’s magic in realizing you can survive brokenness—and then rebuild from a place that feels authentic.

  2. Focus on the Fundamentals.
    Food. Rest. Laughs. Sunsets. Call me a Mediterranean cliché, but once you strip life of all the noise, the simplest joys become the loudest. Cling to them.

  3. Take Small, Brave Steps.
    Phone that friend you haven’t spoken to. Send out one job application. Sit with your partner and finally say the thing you’ve been scared to admit. These aren’t quick fixes, but they’re seeds.

  4. Redefine Success.
    Sometimes, success isn’t getting the promotion, the follower count, or the wedding cake. Sometimes, it’s waking up and deciding to try again—no matter how hard yesterday was.

The Final Stretch of Dough

Looking back, I wouldn’t trade my year of chaos for anything. Sure, it humbled me, reduced me to tears on more than one occasion, and even made me adopt questionable hairstyles as a coping mechanism. But for the first time, I stopped pretending life needed to look perfect. And that freed me to live it deeply.

So if you’re standing knee-deep in your own unraveling, here’s my advice: don’t rush to patch the holes. Those torn bits allow the light—and the humanity—to shine through. And when you’re ready, stretch the dough out one more time. This time, it might just stick.