From Belfast to Sawtell: A Journey of Quiet Bravery - What it really means to leave home, face the unknown, and build a new life one day at a time.

Leaving Belfast behind and landing in Sawtell wasn’t just a change of scenery, it was stepping into a new life filled with uncertainty, challenges, and quiet acts of courage. This is my story of navigating the unknown and finding strength in the everyday moments that shaped me.

Packing for the move was nothing like packing for a holiday. This was a complete upheaval, an emotional and physical process that forced me to confront what truly mattered. I started with four bulging suitcases of clothes, books, keepsakes and comforts. But reality quickly set in, baggage limits, and simple practicality meant I had to strip it all back.

I sat on the living room floor, surrounded by piles of my life, choosing what would come with me and what would stay behind. Some decisions were easy, others deeply painful. A jumper worn threadbare with time, a battered notebook full of private thoughts, small things that held big emotion. I culled again and again, until it was just one suitcase. One suitcase to carry my life.

When I arrived in Sawtell, I didn’t even know where the post office was to send a card back home. It hit me then that I had really done it. I’d moved to the other side of the world. I remember the small panic of needing tights for a job interview and having no idea where to get them. Back home, I’d have gone to Primark without thinking. In Sawtell, I walked to Woolworths and hoped for the best.

On the outside, people probably thought I was sorted. I’d made the move, enrolled in study, found work. But inside, I was stretched. My house in Belfast hadn’t sold. The GFC had sunk the market, and I was sending money home every month to top up the mortgage. I worked a mentally demanding job while studying full-time. There was no spare money, no safety net, just me carrying it all.

I wasn’t fearless. I was terrified. But I showed up anyway.

I chose Sawtell because my visa required me to study in a regional area. It was never the plan, but it ended up being the place where I slowly found my footing. I rented a modest unit. It became my cocoon. Each night, I walked the beach, the same walking shoes that had carried me right around the world now carried me through the most uncertain chapter of my life. The sunsets were outrageous, bold and beautiful, like nature’s way of saying, “You made it through another day.”

The kookaburras didn’t chirp, they laughed loud, echoing cackles that felt like the land itself was mocking me at first. But over time, their laughter became oddly comforting, a reminder that even here, in this foreign place, there was rhythm, sound, life.

Midway through my course, I made the bold decision to change my visa path. I thought it would make things easier, but it turned out to be more complex, more costly, and more emotionally taxing than I could’ve imagined. That journey deserves its own space, another story for another time.

I missed home. I missed my family, my friends and the language of familiarity. Leaving Belfast wasn’t just about a different postcode; it was about identity. About rebuilding from the ground up. I had always been strong, but this was a new kind of strength. The kind that builds in silence. The kind that grows not from certainty, but from showing up day after day, even when you’re unsure if you belong.

Looking back now, I see how brave she was, how brave I was. Not in a loud, heroic way, but in a quiet, unshakeable one. I didn’t come to Australia with a perfect plan. I came with a suitcase and a few trusted belongings, and a hope that maybe life could feel different.

And it did.

Not overnight. Not easily. But eventually. Through the long walks, the Woollies trips, the job shifts, the visa chaos, the tears, and the laughter that started to come again, this life began to form around me.

In the end, I learned that bravery isn’t always about big declarations. Sometimes, it’s the quietest voice inside saying, “Try again tomorrow.” And sometimes, that’s enough to build a whole new life.