Dear 26ixty: Let’s unpack together.

Advice column on learning to be comfortable staying still and embarking on the journey of finding yourself. ♡

Dear 26ixty,

for the past 5ish years ive moved a lot, and i guess i’ve gotten comfortable in the routine of constant change and novelty. i just started a lease and a new job, which has been sooo rigid compared to what i’m used to. what advice do you have for being ok with life being slow and (admittedly) suddenly a bit boring, especially while still craving adventure?

— Margaretta

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Dear Margaretta,

In one year, I moved five times:

From my dorm room → parents for a month → subletted apartment for the remainder of summer → back to a dorm room → a crappy apartment with a girl I met on Facebook → my first real apartment.

During that span, the longest I stayed put was six months in that crappy apartment. But here I am, 2026 and although like you, Margaretta, I was craving a new adventure, I’ve just renewed my current lease for the fourth year.

At 21, I had an undying, restless need to be independent and move out on my own. For a while, all of those moves were exhilarating — where would I end up next? Until I procrastinated finding my next place, leaving me with a cheap, crappy sublet off Facebook — huge mistake.

I got the master bedroom — a very large, long rectangular room with its own private bathroom and generous walk-in closet. Trust me, it sounds way nicer on paper. It was old, dingy, and there was no overhead lighting — just a very tiny window at the one end of the room that just barely shone any light in. The building absolutely reeked of curry and marijuana 24/7. Allegedly, there were roaches. There were two sets of shared washer and dryers per floor — one of which was always broken, and somehow, I always found some guys underwear mixed into my loads — ew. No bathtub, but the shower floor has some gross, black marks on the tile which the landlord swore up and down was not mold.

Sure, by the end of my 6 months there, I had somehow turned that depressing room into a pretty cozy space adorned with a ridiculous amount of fake flowers and leaves scattered across the walls. But I had never been more miserable there.

I didn’t know what my next step was, but it was definitely getting out of that apartment the second that lease was up.

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So I started to dream — touring one crappy, old apartment after the next, trying to envision myself living in each one. Some were okay enough. Some had shared laundry — again. Some had guys catcalling me as I was getting out of the car to tour the place — a great first impression for your new neighbors.

Finally, I decided to just tour this one complex whose price tag absolutely terrified me, but it couldn’t hurt to just look, right?

I wore a blue floral summer dress as I first stepped into this luxury apartment with the open floor plan and huge windows, the sun illuminating every inch of the space. Compared to my dark, long prison cell I was currently at, this place felt like a resort. It had a window-view of the water. In-unit washer and dryers. A bathtub with no sketchy marks. And above all else — a decent sized balcony. I could paint outside in the summers! I could feel the sparkle in my eye, so I ran home, applied for the apartment, and began packing for yet the fifth time.

And I’ve been in this same apartment for four years now, Margaretta. I was heavily considering not renewing my lease and going on a new adventure this year, but a worker’s comp injury sort of put a damper on my plans. Your letter actually made me smile because I’m currently in the same place as you — feeling that restless drive for change in my spirit but succumbing to another year of just staying put. And that’s okay.

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As much as I wanted a change of pace, I realized staying really isn’t all that bad. Back when I was constantly moving, my adventurous drive didn’t always lead me to the best places. Sometimes, settling in one spot might feel a little boring, but there’s a quiet kind of magic in it. Maybe it isn’t even boring, maybe it’s just stable and steady.

Having lived out of boxes for a year, it took me nearly four months to finally feel like I was safe to settle and decorate my walls — this wasn’t as temporary as before. In the last four years, I went from bare walls and eating on a floor cushion to a dining table and fringed-walls. Settling in one place means you finally have a place to make yours. Every night when I retreat back to my cozy, little haven, I feel at peace. From the ivy leaves hanging around my bathroom vanity to the reading nook I designed, my home feels like a safe place to just exist.

I’ve spent so much time doing different DIYs like painting my nightstand sage with dark green ivy leaves or recreating a Monet painting to hang in my living room — little things to give my place personality and keep me busy when life gets too quiet. And the real pay off has been watching the space transform into a dream-Pinterest-board fantasy come to life.

Your environment is truly everything. If you have a place that feels comfortable and like you, you’re going to have an easier job kicking off your shoes at night after a long day. So close your eyes and envision what you want your space to be like. Maybe try creating a Pinterest board and plan some DIYs to keep you busy.

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The type of peace I have gained by sitting still is immeasurable. I have completely accustomed myself to having a quiet, yet full life. Staying still can be uncomfortable because it allows you ample time to get to know yourself — and you can treat that kind of silence as terrifying or an invitation to really figure out who you really are and what you like.

Once I finally settled in one place, I was able to get myself in good routines and discover new hobbies. I remember when the excitement of the “new” place wore off and I found all the days beginning to feel the exact same, like I was stuck in Groundhog Day. But I realized that adventure doesn’t always mean physically going on some crazy side-quest, there are quiet, slower adventures to explore. There’s a saying that you’re only bored if you’re boring, so I chose not to be bored and to find the things that filled me with fire and kept everyday feeling exciting.

I’ve found something so magical in waking up and journaling with a coffee on my balcony. I’ve tried a million new recipes — my Buffalo chicken pasta is now a go-to comfort meal and my cannoli cookies have become a fan-favorite at Christmas time. I’m even handwriting and illustrating my own cookbook right now with all the recipes I’ve grown to love so future sixty-year-old me can look back and smile (or pass down to her granddaughters one day). I wrote a post about how being alone doesn’t mean you’re lonely, where I included a huge list of things that I’ve found to love while being alone if you want some more ideas.

But what are your things, Margaretta? Maybe you always wanted to try watercolor painting? Or set a goal that you’re going to walk three miles a day? Maybe take photos during those walks of beautiful skies or little trinkets you find along your way and start a scrapbook of them.

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My quiet life has also ventured outside of my apartment. I’ve become a regular at local cafes and stores that know my order when I walk in through the door, which makes me feel like I’m a part of a community, something I wasn’t able to cultivate by constantly moving to and fro.

I’m still finding new things and places to explore and feed my sense of adventure. There are new coffee shops I haven’t tried yet, and parks I have yet to bring my little shih-tzu for walks. I even just found a literary club not too far from me that I want to join and find other like-minded writers.

There’s a kind of peace in knowing you’re set for the minute and not going anywhere. As much as I wanted a new adventure, I’m equally as excited that I don’t have to call movers and start taping up boxes again — or investigate suspicious marks on a future place’s shower tiles. Let’s be honest — moving sucks. Margaretta, we are saving ourselves huge headaches by staying still for a minute.

I didn’t lose my sense of adventure by staying still — I went on the journey of finding myself.

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