Charles Esther
Throughout my twenties and early thirties, I was constantly on the move.
Each relocation was driven by the desire to climb the professional ladder and earn a better salary.
I moved from Istanbul to London, then Johannesburg, Beirut, Dublin, and finally Berlin.
With each destination, I gained a shinier job title, built a broader professional network, and collected new experiences.
My passport was filled with stamps, and I had countless stories that made me an interesting guest at dinner parties.
For a while, I genuinely enjoyed that lifestyle.
The Hidden Costs of Constant Movement
However, as I became skilled at navigating unfamiliar cities and cultures, I noticed something was missing.
I had lost my sense of permanence.
I no longer knew what it felt like to be rooted in one place or to maintain long-term friendships.
Routine health check-ups disappeared from my schedule.
I knew which cafés in different airports served decent coffee, but I didn’t know the names of my neighbours.
After five career-driven relocations, I felt emotionally exhausted and burned out.
It wasn’t just the demands of high-pressure jobs that wore me down, but the mental toll of starting over again and again.
Choosing Love Over Ambition
Everything changed during my final career move to Berlin.
There, I met the man who would later become my husband.
Like me, he had spent his twenties chasing success in different cities while working in finance.
When we got engaged, we began discussing the kind of life we wanted to build together.
One thing was immediately clear — we wanted to stop moving.
We both felt we had achieved enough in our careers and now longed for stability, routines, and a sense of home.
We wanted to buy real furniture, grow indoor plants, and enjoy slow Sunday mornings.
Starting Over for the Right Reasons
There was one challenge left — we had to move again.
Berlin was beautiful, but it didn’t feel like the forever place we both dreamed of.
My husband is Italian, and I’m Turkish.
So we chose to move to Rome.
The decision allowed us to honour our roots, enjoy warm weather, access fresh produce easily, and embrace a culture centred on family and community.
Rome, with its long lunches and relaxed rhythm, wouldn’t have made sense to me a decade ago when career ambition ruled my decisions.
But this time, I wasn’t chasing status or income.
I was choosing love.
Despite the usual bureaucratic frustrations — navigating visa applications and city hall visits — the transition felt effortless.
My husband’s fluent Italian helped make the process smoother, and we supported each other through every step.
A Year in Rome and a New Way of Living
We’ve now lived in Rome for a year, and it feels like home.
I haven’t completely sidelined my career, but I’ve reshaped how I view it.
I now work remotely as a freelance consultant.
This gives me more time and energy for personal relationships, hobbies, and intentional living.
We’ve built routines we once only dreamed of — weekly trips to the farmers’ market, cozy Friday night dinners at our favourite trattoria, and even getting a local gym membership.
Learning to Stay Still
Will I move again?
Perhaps.
But for the first time, I don’t feel the urge to chase the next big opportunity in a new city.
I’ve started to see my life like a garden.
It needs sunlight, yes — the bright moments and inspiration.
But it also needs care, consistency, and the right container.
For me, that container was love.
