Complacency vs Contentment
Hello, my lovely friends!
I hope you’ve had a good week. If you haven’t, it’s June 1st, a new month, a new chance to try again.
I’m almost fully recovered from that recent illness, and honestly, thank god because it sucked. It feels really good to finally have the energy and clarity to sit down and reflect again. So here I am, doing what I love. Today’s blog is about something I’ve spent a long time grappling with: contentment.
Quick thank you to those of you who’ve messaged me recently to say that the blog helps you or makes you feel seen. I write here every week, not just for myself, but for you too. Knowing it resonates, even with just one person, is incredibly motivating. It makes me feel all sentimental and mushy inside. So, thank you. I hope you enjoy this week’s blog.
So. Contentment.
Defined as: a state of happiness and satisfaction vs. Complacency, which is uncritical satisfaction with oneself or achievements.
I’ve never really been one to sit still. Whether it was in my studies, my career, friendships, or relationships, I always had one foot out the door, emotionally or mentally. Not because I didn’t care. Not because I didn’t want to commit. But staying still or being too ‘peaceful’ made me deeply uncomfortable. I used to think being content meant being stagnant. Or worse, it meant settling. And I never wanted to settle. Like, never ever.
I always want more from my life. As I always say in my sign-offs: you only have one life, so live it and I’ll be damned if I am a hypocrite.
If I’m being honest, there were times I created fictional scenarios in my head just to give myself an excuse to leave. I’d bring them to life, too. I'd burn things down just to start over. Chaos made more sense to me than quietness ever did. I craved movement. I equated it with progress. Being content, to me, felt like failure.
That might sound dramatic, I know, but that’s just how my brain worked for a really long time.
Ironically, I’m also a creature of habit. I love a routine. I love knowing what comes next. But at the same time, I’ve tried to dismantle every routine I’ve ever built for myself. I’ve learned that loving structure doesn’t necessarily mean I was comfortable being content. The idea of contentment used to terrify me. It felt like giving up. Like saying, "This is it, it is what it is" and convincing myself I wasn’t allowed to want more.
Whenever I got too comfortable, I’d get antsy. I’d cause a commotion, often subconsciously. I’d make myself uncomfortable again because, for a long time, discomfort was what I knew best.
But lately, I’ve started to see contentment in a different light. For its true definition. I realised I was confusing complacency for contentment.
Contentment, to me, isn’t about settling for less. It’s not about staying in situations that don’t serve you just because they’re easier than facing change. I’ve never believed in that. I’ve always believed in growth, even when it’s hard, even when it means walking away. But I’ve also realised there’s a big difference between healthy ambition and self-inflicted pressure.
And don’t even get me started on mundanity—the bane of my existence and somehow also the love of my life.
These days, contentment feels more like peace in the present moment. Even if I’m still moving forward, it’s the pause between breaths. It’s that feeling of walking into a room and thinking, "This is my life. I belong here." And maybe, for the first time in my life, I can say that. I’ve found a kind of contentment that doesn’t feel like I’m stuck.
Now, allow me to get metaphorical for a second because this all really came to me while I was stuck in traffic the other day (5km/ph in peak hour on the M1 if you know, I am sorry, truly)
@mid.night_photography
Here’s how I see it: Life is like traffic. Say my neighbour and I leave our houses at the same time, heading in the same direction. They get to their destination before me. Why? Well, maybe they only work down the road. Maybe they’re willing to pay tolls, and I’m not. Maybe they darted through traffic without really considering other drivers. The point is, I don’t know where they’re going, and I don’t know what their journey requires.
It’s just like real life. We see people online, or in real life, and it looks like they’re miles ahead of us. But we’re not on the same route. Maybe I’ve had to make a few more stops. Maybe I’m heading somewhere completely different. Maybe I’ll stop somewhere they’ll never go, and vice versa.
Okay, here comes another traffic metaphor.
There are accidents. Dark clouds. Rainy days. Delays. Sometimes you think you're finally in the clear, and then boom, your navigation app has deceived you and you're back to crawling forward. Stop-starting, foot cramping, and jaw clenching. It's frustrating. It drains your time and your energy and your patience. And of course, you start thinking of all the better things you could be doing with this time sitting still.
But then I look around and realise I’m not the only one stuck. There are people behind me, in front of me, beside me…all probably with places to be, people to see, lives to get back to. And yet, here we are, all waiting. Some may be secretly grateful because what they have to return to is way worse than a bit of traffic.
There’s no special lane I can just turn into and speed off. I’m stuck here like everyone else. And it hits me: This is life. I’m not where I thought I’d be, but I’ve somehow ended up here. I can’t change the traffic, but I can change how I feel about it. Being bitter won’t get me to where I need to be any faster.
It’s not that I want to stay exactly where I am forever. I still want to grow. I want to build more. I want to evolve. But I’m done with putting pressure on myself to always be ten steps ahead. I used to think that if I wasn’t sprinting towards the finish line, then I’d never get to cross it. Now, I’m learning that growth can happen slowly, too, and that finish line will still be there in the end.
These days, my dreams don’t feel like escapes anymore. They feel like goals I’m working toward calmly, deliberately, and with way more presence than ever before. I don’t wake up in a panic about how far I have to go. I wake up excited to take one more step. And that, to me, feels like real freedom.
I soak in the sunshine now. I enjoy the buzz of busy mornings and those quiet little moments I used to overlook. I don’t need everything to be chaotic to feel alive. Peace doesn’t mean I’ve given up. It just means I trust where I’m going. You don’t have to cause an accident, just because you wanted to get where you wanted faster, because it may mean that you don’t get there at all.
Last traffic analogy, I swear. But yeah. The roads were insane that morning, and I had a lot of time to think.
If you’re someone like me who’s always equated movement with meaning, maybe you’re not behind. Maybe you’re just learning how to be okay with stopping and starting again. Maybe contentment isn’t the end of the road. Maybe it’s the amber lights that are gesturing you to slow down, before you can pause and reflect at the red light, and the green light will let you know when you’re ready (ok, so this is the last traffic-related spiel—I promise.
And if you’re in a situation that doesn’t feel right, if your gut is telling you this isn’t it. Let me be clear: I’m not saying stay. Don’t confuse contentment with complacency, as I had for many years. You deserve more than just surviving.
But when you do find something that feels safe and real and true, don’t run from it just because it’s calm. Let yourself stay there even if it is just for a little while.
You’re allowed to have both peace and progress. You’re allowed to rest and still rise. I’m learning that now, one day at a time.
Until next week — love y’all, thanks for your continuous support
Liz xx
