Lisa gives Jedda a hug in the hallway of their eco-home, Booken House

My eyes flick up to the rear vision mirror and take in the billowing cloud of dust and gravel, dropping like a veil over the life I thought I would live. I drop my gaze to my two little loves huddled in the back seat, and sleepy, trusting eyes meet mine - they know something is up.

In this moment, I am speeding us away from everything I know to be certain.

I am isolated.

I am alone.

I am powerless.

And I have a choice... I can sink or swim.

Lisa lies in a make shift bed with her two small children, Bodhi and Charlee

If I look back now, I think this is when I began tapping into the life lessons I had learned growing up on our farm; where nothing was wasted, grit was non-negotiable, and resourcefulness was celebrated.

I remember as a little girl watching my pop wire the door of his old ute shut rather than buy a new one and build cattle yards out of scrap metal purchased at clearing sales for the top price of one dollar.

I knew he wasn't poor, just content with his enoughness.

This house, and the ones before it, have been my cattle yards. Building and renovating sustainable homes has been a way to see how far I could push my resourcefulness, deliver as much certainty as possible for my little family, and to do so with as little financial strain as possible.

But mostly, they have taught me about getting comfortable with enough.

More often than not, sustainability gets a bad rap. It's shoved down our throats with impending doom and gloom, and we feel paralysed into inaction.

Consumerism, elitism and extremism continue to hi-jack the humble sustainable home and lifestyle, and we average bears don't think we can aspire to such a life.

It's all a lie.

You don't need a perfectly designed eco-masterpiece of a home to feel good about your contribution. Maybe you recycle? Perhaps you grow veggies or have stopped buying 'stuff' you don't need?

Heck, just by being here, you are helping normalise simple, imperfect, sustainable homes and lifestyles.

There is power in the small stuff and hope in collective grassroots change.

It was doing the small things to contribute to a better, more certain life for my kids that gave me hope in my darkest days.

And now?

This mumma from the bush feels powerless no more.