The Crack Beneath the Calm: What My “Perfect” Landing in Sydney Taught Me.

The Crack Beneath the Calm: What My “Perfect” Landing in Sydney Taught Me*

When we moved from Vietnam to Sydney, I had a plan.

Not just a checklist—an attack strategy.

We came for my husband’s job, yes, but also because we were dreaming of Australia. Wide open skies, national parks, flat whites on the weekend. After the wild beauty and organised chaos of Vietnam, I was craving something different.

Infrastructure. Ease. A bit more space to breathe.

I knew our time here might be short, so I was determined to make the most of it. I hit the ground running.

Unpack fast. Style the house. Settle the kids. Create a sense of purpose.

I’d been studying interior design online through Sydney Design School, and by chance, I got the opportunity to finish on campus. It felt like the stars were aligning—finally, something just slotted into place.

And for a while, I was in the zone.

I was managing drop-offs, design assignments, dinner, laundry, and the occasional scroll for vintage furniture inspo. People kept saying:

“You’re amazing!”

“I don’t know how you do it all.”

And honestly? I liked being seen that way. I was achieving, moving, making it all happen. It looked like I had this expat life nailed.

Then came the crack.

It was just a regular Tuesday night. Nothing dramatic. Just dinner on the table, an assignment due, and me—completely, utterly spent.

I was so tired. I hadn’t kept up with my coursework properly. There was no space for extra study between school runs and family life. No bandwidth to be the student I wanted to be.

And right there at the table—mid-meal—I burst into tears. Big, messy, couldn’t-hold-it-in kind of tears.

My husband froze. The girls stared. This wasn’t their usual mum. This wasn’t me.

I felt like a failure. Like I was slipping behind. Like maybe I wasn’t cut out for all the things I’d taken on.

And then, gently, my husband looked at me and said,

”You don’t have to be the hero, you know.”

He urged me to take a step back. To breathe. To stop trying to prove something.

That cracked me open even more—because deep down, I’d been trying so hard *not* to crack.

Here’s what I’ve learned:

* Hustle doesn’t equal worth.

* Rest isn’t weakness—it’s brave.

* You can be wildly ambitious and still need a soft place to land.

* Settling well isn’t about how fast you move—it’s about moving with intention.

* And maybe most importantly? We can’t let the pressure from the homefront—the questions, the comparisons, the “So… what are you doing now?”—chip away at our confidence.

There’s this quiet expectation that we should constantly be producing. That a “trailing spouse” needs to either reinvent herself overnight or at least not look like she’s sipping champagne by the pool.

Spoiler alert: I’ve had champagne by the pool.

Bout more so I’ve had lukewarm coffee in activewear while managing a meltdown over missing Lego bricks.

This life? It’s not a holiday.

It’s real, emotional, layered, and work.

That’s exactly why I created The Settled Circle.

Not as a place to prove anything—but as a space to land.

It’s for the women who are starting over.

Who want meaning, not just movement.

Who are tired of doing it all alone.

Where we celebrate creating a beautiful home and surviving a rough week.

Where ambition meets honesty and connection lives at the heart.

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