I had everything I was supposed to want.

The plain job that paid well and let me sleep at night. The quiet friend who showed up when I needed them. The small apartment in the decent neighborhood. The partner who made me laugh instead of making me jealous. The hobby that brought me joy even though it wasn’t Instagram-worthy.

And I felt miserable.

I was promised more. I deserved more. I had become the poster child for Dan Greenberg’s satirical masterpiece on self-sabotage, How To Make Yourself Miserable. A living example of how we often ruin our own happiness and reject what’s good for us.

There I was, surrounded by the kind of solid, dull stability that creates contentment, and all I could think about was everything I was missing out on. The exciting job in the bigger city. The glamorous friends with more interesting problems. The relationship that would make other people envious. A life that would look great online.

I choose illusions over substance, the surface over the soul, the pretty lie over the plain truth. And nowhere is this more dangerous than when we’re convinced that happiness is somewhere else, with someone else, doing something else.

The Fresh Start Fantasy

The story we tell ourselves is seductive: This time will be different. This place will be different. This person will be different. We’ve all felt it—that magnetic pull toward the Next Thing that will finally, definitively fix what’s broken inside us.

• Move to Austin, and you’ll be creative
• Move to LA, and you’ll be discovered
• Move to New York, and you’ll matter
• Move to Costa Rica, and you’ll find peace
• Move in with someone new, and you’ll be lovable
• Move to a new job, and you’ll be fulfilled

Here’s a hard truth that we don’t want to admit: geography doesn’t cure psychology. Your problems aren’t tied to your zip code—they’re tied to your habits, your patterns, your unresolved wounds, and your inability to sit still long enough to do the work.

History is littered with people who learned this lesson the hardest way possible.

When Paradises Go Wrong

David Koresh and the Branch Davidians didn’t only move to Waco—they moved to escape. To build something perfect. To create a community free from the corruption and compromise of the outside world. They found their promised land and armed it against intruders.

What happened was a 51-day standoff that ended in flames, and 76 people dead.

Jim Jones took it even further. Why just move when you can move everyone? Jonestown was supposed to be paradise—a place where his followers could escape racism, government persecution, and the spiritual emptiness of American life. He called it an “agricultural project.”

It became a mass grave. 918 people died in the jungle, most of them drinking cyanide-laced Kool Aid because their leader convinced them it was better than facing the world they’d left behind.

Brigham Young led thousands of Mormon pioneers across the wilderness to Utah, seeking a place where they could practice their faith without persecution. And yes, they built something remarkable in the desert. But they also built a theocracy, complete with polygamy, violence against non-believers, and all the human darkness they thought they’d left behind in Illinois and Missouri.

Even Christopher Columbus—the ultimate geographic cure success story—died bitter and largely forgotten. He spent his final years writing angry letters, convinced he’d been cheated out of the riches and recognition he deserved. No amount of new worlds could fill the hole in his soul.

The Instagram Exodus

You don’t need to lead a religious cult to fall into this trap. Social media is full of people performing their own version of the geographic cure:

The entrepreneur who moves to Bali to “heal” and posts sunset selfies while his business collapses back home. The couple who relocates to Portland to “save their relationship” and breaks up six months later in a different apartment. The burned-out corporate worker who quits everything to become a yoga instructor in Costa Rica, only to discover that financial stress and identity crises have frequent flyer miles.

The problem isn’t that they moved. The problem is that they moved to avoid rather than to embrace.

The Art of Staying Still

Before you buy the plane ticket, sign the lease, or swipe right on that person who seems like your salvation, try something radical: stay where you are and fix what’s broken.

Ask yourself these uncomfortable questions:

• What am I really running from?
• What patterns do I keep repeating regardless of location?
• What would happen if I put the same energy into improving my current situation that I’m putting into planning my escape?
• What if the “boring” option is actually the wise one?

Riches Beneath Your Feet

The most successful people I know aren’t the ones who made the boldest moves—they’re the ones who excelled at recognizing value that others overlooked.

The investor who bought the “ugly” building in the up-and-coming neighborhood. The employee who took the “boring” job at the company that was about to explode. The person who married their best friend instead of the person who looked perfect on paper.

Sometimes the gold is right under your feet, covered in dust.

When Moving Makes Sense

This isn’t an argument against ever changing your circumstances. Sometimes the geography might be the problem. Sometimes you need to leave the small town, the toxic job, the relationship that’s slowly killing you.

But here’s the difference: healthy moves are toward something, not away from everything.

You’re not running from your problems—you’re running toward your solution. You’ve done the work to understand what you need, and you’ve found a specific place or situation that provides it. You’re not looking for a fresh start—you’re looking for the right fit.

The Real Fresh Start

True transformation doesn’t require a change of address. It requires a change of perspective, a change of habits, a change of story you tell yourself about who you are and what you deserve.

The fresh start isn’t in the new city—it’s in the new choices you make every day. The new ways you respond to old triggers. The new boundaries you set. The new standards you hold yourself to.

You can have a completely different life without changing your zip code. But you can’t have a different life without changing yourself.

Look Before You Leap

That feel-good song by Jimmy Soul got one thing right: don’t be mislead by what looks good on the surface. The best choice may be the one that doesn’t photograph well, doesn’t impress your friends, and doesn’t feed your ego.

Sometimes happiness is plain, ordinary, and completely mundane. And sometimes that’s exactly what makes it real.

Before you chase the shiny new thing, take a long look at what you already have. Polish it. Tend it. Give it the attention you’ve been saving for someday.

You might discover that the treasure you’ve been looking for was there all along—just waiting for you to mine your own legendary “Acres of Diamonds“.