Why we stay in situations we’ve outgrown

Most of us know, at least intellectually, when something isn’t quite right.

A role that drains more than it gives. A routine that keeps us functioning, but not flourishing. A life that looks stable on the outside, yet feels tight on the inside.

So why don’t we move?

A useful way to think about this comes from physics.

Newton’s First Law tells us that an object at rest stays at rest unless acted upon by an external force.

Humans aren’t so different.

We tend to stay where we are until something forces movement. Burnout, a health scare, a breaking point, or a sudden life change. This is often referred to as emotional inertia: the natural resistance to change, even when change is needed.

Movement requires activation energy, which refers to the initial discomfort, uncertainty, or effort needed to get started. And that first step is usually the hardest.

Why familiar discomfort feels safer than uncertainty

Even when we know life is always changing, our brains crave predictability.

Uncertainty triggers the fear centre of the brain. Stress hormones rise. Worst-case scenarios rush in.

From an evolutionary perspective, this made sense. Uncertainty once meant danger. Today, it often just means anxiety, even if staying put is slowly eroding our energy and self-trust.

So we tolerate what’s familiar. Not because it’s good, but because it’s known.

As the philosopher Heraclitus put it, “The only constant in life is change.”

Our nervous system, however, prefers to whisper: “Better the familiar discomfort than the unknown.”

The quiet loop of “living for the weekend”

For many overwhelmed professionals, life settles into a quiet cycle: Survive → Rest → Repeat

Work takes most of the energy. Weekends become recovery zones. Holidays become the light at the end of the tunnel.

When we’re depleted, we don’t look for change, we look for relief. Over time, this becomes normalised. Autopilot turns into a lifestyle.

And what we often call “stability” is really just endurance.

The myth of stability

Stability is usually framed as something inherently good.

A steady job. A predictable routine. Not rocking the boat.

But stability doesn’t automatically mean safety or sustainability. Things can look stable on the surface and still be quietly misaligned underneath.

True stability isn’t about staying the same. It’s about having enough internal flexibility to adapt, adjust, and grow over time.

Without that, even the most “secure” situation can start to feel constraining.

The social weight we carry

Change isn’t just an internal decision. It’s social.

Many of us worry about how we’ll be perceived:

• “Leaving looks irresponsible.”
• “Changing direction looks unstable.”
• “Starting over looks like failure.”

So we hold ourselves together. We try to be reasonable. We wait until things are bad enough to justify movement.

But perfection isn’t protection. It often just delays honesty.

Responsibilities are real but so are our needs

Family, finances, caregiving, and commitments matter.

They shape what’s possible. They set real constraints.

But sometimes, they also become reasons we stop listening to ourselves altogether.

The question isn’t whether responsibilities exist. It’s whether they’re guiding thoughtful choices or quietly silencing what we know to be true.

Moving forward without blowing up your life

Change doesn’t have to be dramatic to be meaningful. You don’t need to quit everything or reinvent yourself overnight.

Often, what helps most is a shift in how we relate to discomfort and uncertainty.

Instead of waiting for rock bottom, we can learn to listen earlier. Instead of treating uncertainty as danger, we can treat it as information.

Leaving isn’t failure. Staying indefinitely in something that no longer fits often comes at a quiet cost.

Growth doesn’t always look like big moves. Sometimes it looks like small, honest adjustments made with care and intention.

Reader reflection

What part of your life feels “stable” on the surface, but quietly draining underneath?

And what’s one small, low-risk step you could take to explore a more honest way forward?

A gentle note

If reading this stirred something, but you’re not ready for big changes, that’s okay.

Sometimes the next step isn’t action, it’s clarity.

The Personal Clarity Workbook is a self-guided resource designed to help you slow down, reflect, and understand what’s actually misaligned, without pressure to fix everything at once.

Some people use it simply to get oriented. Others use it to prepare for more structured change later.

Either way, it’s a place to start. Quietly, intentionally, and at your own pace.