From City Streets to Country Roads: Our Big Move Toward a Slower Life
Three months. That’s all it took from the moment we saw a house in the Southern Highlands to the moment we packed up our life in Sydney and moved our little family to the country.
It still feels a bit surreal.
This move was never part of a grand five-year plan. It started as one of those quiet conversations between my husband and me. “Maybe one day…” we’d say. Maybe one day we’ll leave the city behind. Maybe one day we’ll give the kids more space to run, climb, explore. Maybe one day we’ll trade the noise and busyness for something slower, something simpler.
And then, one day, we just did.
We found a home on a big block of land, just over an hour from Sydney. And within weeks, we had bought it, sold our Sydney house, resigned from my teaching job, and said goodbye to the community we’d known for years. It all happened fast. But deep down, it had been coming for a long time.
This wasn’t just a move for the sake of moving. It was a conscious decision to live more intentionally and to create the kind of life we kept talking about but hadn’t yet made space for.
The transition has been big. Leaving behind family and friends has been hard. Letting go of my career in education and putting trust in my own abilities has been one of the scariest things I’ve ever done. But I also know it’s time. Time to pursue my own business. Time to build something that fits not just around my life, but aligns with it.
I’m not going to pretend it’s all been peaceful cups of tea and countryside strolls. The house is still a mess (and I don’t do well with mess). The adjustment has been rocky at times. Our kids have had their ups and downs. The silence here is beautiful, but also unfamiliar. And this season is demanding every mindset tool and self-compassion strategy I’ve ever leaned on.
It’s been months since I did a proper workout so I’m focusing on slowly moving my body again. Daily walks down country roads and stretches on the living room floor. I’m making better choices with food. I haven’t quite gotten back into my morning routine, but I know I will. I’m giving myself permission to take it slow, to honour the transition, to support my family (and myself) as we navigate this huge change together.
This move wasn’t just about geography. It was about choosing a different way of living. A quieter one. A slower one. A life where we make room for what matters most.
And even though the cushions are still in the wrong rooms, the pantry is chaos, and we don’t have curtains on all the windows, it already feels like we’ve made the right choice.
It already feels like home.
