Chasing Stability

I spent years believing that if I worked harder, earned more, and accomplished enough, life would eventually feel settled. I was completely bought into the narrative that success bred stability, and that in order to succeed I needed to consistently be growing. This past year, I have had the privilege of my life slowing down. Contrary to my expectations, it has been incredibly destabilizing.

I am a second-generation Puerto Rican American. I was raised with the mindset that nothing in this world is given, only earned. Even deeper, not everything earned is given. If I wanted something, then I needed to make it impossible not to get it. This meant choosing what to sacrifice in many spaces. Whether it was time, comfort, or opinion, I had to want success more. All in the name of stability. At times, this looked like 50-hour work weeks, minimal time for meals, and little time for social interactions or hobbies.

Work became my home, my social sphere, and my identity.

Then life changed. I moved, got married, and traded in a W2 for a 1099, and the time came to do what I had articulated I wanted for years: fewer hours worked, more hours engaged in my personal life.

It is in this crux that I quickly find that I am woefully underprepared. Entrepreneurship gave me the freedom to create the work schedule I wanted. However, I quickly learned that this too came with sacrifices. Hours were no longer traded for dollars, and there was no benefits safety net. Free did not equal stable. So the familiar voice in my head remains: I have to keep growing. I have to succeed.

Becoming a private practice therapist changed what growth required of me. The familiar channels of the grind no longer worked. I could not simply put in more hours, work harder, or sacrifice more of myself and expect the same results. Success demanded a different approach, one I have not yet learned.

So here I am months later, frustrated and confused. My schedule isn't as full as I hoped it would be, and every corner of the internet seems eager to sell me the next strategy, system, or secret to success. Yet the harder I search, the more I find myself asking a different question:

How much of my frustration is about growth, and how much of it is about my need for stability?

In the stillness of the morning, contemplating what I needed to do next, I had a realization. I am stable. By objective measures, all of my needs are met. My family is fed, clothed, and housed. I vacation, pay my debts, and save. I have a church family, friends, and hobbies. Yet my mind doesn't rest on the present. It envisions the future: more clients, more credentials, more income, a home of my own, zero debt. Why do I struggle to enjoy what I strived to build?

Slowing down exposed me. With more space, I realized I was never taught how to be stable, only how to pursue stability. The criteria chronically shifted based on societal position and expectation. Stability stopped being a condition and became a moving target.

The people who taught me how to survive gave me an incredible gift. They taught me discipline, sacrifice, perseverance, and grit. Those lessons made much of my life possible. But I am realizing that pursuing stability and experiencing stability are not the same thing.

I will always be a person of ambition-a person who envisions the future. I love the process of dreaming something and making it real. But I am learning how to pursue those things from a place of contentment rather than survival.

I recognize the privilege of having been able to build toward stability. What I am learning now is that stability is not only something to pursue, but something to learn how to live within once it is present.