I Want a Floor That Doesn’t Move

I’m tired of reconfiguring.

Not in the cute, growth-oriented, “look at me evolving” way.
In the bone-deep, exhausted way.
The kind you feel when you’ve rebuilt the same internal house over and over
and still haven’t gotten to sit down on the couch.

This year has been nothing but reconfiguration.

I lost a loving pet.

I started writing because I had to put the grief somewhere.

That writing turned into children’s books.

Then it turned into Substack.

Then it turned into six months of publishing, processing, reflecting, looping.

I found something that mattered.

I lost the shape of it again.

I adjusted.

Again.

And again.

Meanwhile, my job is hollow.
Not dramatic.
Just draining.

My friendships are thin or theoretical.

My relationship offers companionship more than connection right now.

My vehicle is still in the shop, which sounds small until you realize how much freedom and stability can get tied to a single object when everything else feels unstable.

Even writing, the thing that saved me, has started to feel like I’m circling the same material.
Not because it’s wrong,
but because I’m still living inside it.

People talk about growth like it’s a straight line or a breakthrough moment.

They don’t talk about what it’s like to live in constant transition.
To never quite land anywhere long enough for your nervous system to believe you’re safe.
To keep adapting without ever getting to settle.

At some point, reconfiguring stops feeling brave
and starts feeling unsustainable.

I’m not asking for joy.

I’m not asking for fulfillment.

I’m asking for stability.

For one area of life that doesn’t need to be examined, improved, reframed, or rebuilt.
One thing that gets to be good enough without a footnote.

I don’t think this means I’m failing.
I think it means I’ve been responding accurately to a year that refused to hold still.

But accuracy doesn’t make it any less exhausting.

There’s a difference between transformation and constant renovation.
One implies movement toward something.
The other is just keeping the structure from collapsing.

I know reconfiguration has been necessary.
I know it’s brought real things into my life.

But I’m done romanticizing it.

I don’t want another version of myself right now.

I want a floor that doesn’t move.

If that makes me tired instead of inspired,
so be it.