DDD, years later: returning as someone else
It took me a few weeks to let the experience settle before writing about it.
As many of you know, I was invited to DDD this year. Not as a speaker. Not as an attendee. But as a trader.
That might sound like a small detail. It wasn't: DDD has been part of my professional life for many years. It was a place where I felt at home, surrounded by people who spoke the same language of design, digital products, innovation and creativity. For a long time, it was one of my happy places.
Then life happened. In September 2024, after closing my agency and stepping away from an industry that had shaped a quarter of a century of my life, I realised something difficult: that world was no longer where I belonged.
Recognising that was painful. Accepting it was liberating.
So walking back into DDD this year felt strangely similar to visiting a house you once lived in. Everything is familiar. The walls are still there. The people are still there. The memories are still there. But you are no longer the same person who once called it home.
I wasn't sure what to expect; I had been very open about the last couple of years. About closing the business. About the struggles. About starting again. About discovering creativity through crafts, making things with my hands, and finding joy in a completely different way of working and living.
Would people judge me?
Would they think I had failed?
Would they see me as someone who couldn't keep up?
Would they still want to connect?
Would they be inspired?
Would they quietly walk away?
The answer turned out to be: all of the above.
Some people embraced the conversation with warmth and curiosity.
Some seemed uncomfortable.
Some inspired me.
Some confirmed that our connection was deeper than work.
Some confirmed that it never really was.
And honestly? That was exactly what I needed.
Over the course of a few days, I had honest, vulnerable and wholehearted conversations with former colleagues and friends. The kind of conversations that don't happen when you're rushing between meetings or presenting slides.
I left with a clearer understanding of which relationships belong in my future. Some are meaningful, some are not, some are friendships for life, some deserve a polite "thank you" and a cheerful "good luck." And a very small number deserve an even more cheerful "bye-bye."
There is something incredibly freeing about reaching a point in life where you no longer need everyone to approve of your choices.
The experience reminded me that people's reactions often say more about where they are in their own journey than where you are in yours.
Most importantly, I realised that I no longer need validation from the world I left behind. I enjoyed every conversation, every unexpected hug, every difficult question, every new connection. Every person who shared a piece of their own story.
Each interaction became part of a larger picture: evidence that life doesn't end when one chapter closes. It simply creates space for another.
Looking back, I am genuinely proud of myself for going. Many people wouldn't have.
It is one thing to reinvent yourself in private. It is another to return to a place where everyone knew a previous version of you and introduce them to the person you've become.
That takes courage.
The biggest gift of the trip, however, had nothing to do with DDD, as I travelled with my son Matteo. We spent time together in Rome before the event, celebrating my birthday, wandering through familiar streets, sharing meals, stories and memories. We met old friends. We laughed a lot. We created new memories while revisiting old ones.
As parents, we often don't realise when a phase of life has ended until we're already looking back at it.
This trip felt like a reminder that some of the most precious moments aren't professional achievements, conference talks or career milestones.
They're the quiet moments in between. A walk through a city at sunset. A shared joke. Time spent with someone you love.
Those memories are priceless.
In fact, they may well be the most valuable thing I've gained in the last few years.
So thank you, DDD.
Not for reminding me of who I was. But for showing me, quite clearly, who I am now.
And for helping me realise that I'm exactly where I need to be.
