Building a Life that Doesn’t Need to Be Finished

For a long time, there’s been a motor running inside me — a quiet but relentless pressure to get everything done. To fix the house. Finish the garden. Upgrade the van. Get the flooring just right. As if once all of it was sorted, then I’d finally be enough. Then I’d be ready — for love, for life, for some undefined moment of arrival.

But lately, I’ve been slowing down. Not just physically, but emotionally. I’ve started to see how many of my decisions were driven by a desire to prove I was lovable, stable, complete. To show the world (and maybe a future partner) that I had my life together.

And when I zoom out, I see the truth:
I’m not building a showroom.
I’m building a sanctuary.
And sanctuaries are allowed to be in progress.

I don’t need to rush to spend £4,000 on flooring just because I have the money.
I don’t need a perfect front garden to feel worthy of being seen.
I don’t need to finish the van before I’ve even had the urge to travel.

What I do need is space — to breathe, to parent, to rest.
And what I want is to make decisions the kind of partner I’d like would make: grounded, considered, emotionally wise.

The fencing for the garden? That feels good. That feels like privacy, like presence, like peace.
The van? It’s not done, but it’s mine. I built it. And it’s there when I need it.
The rest? It can wait.

Because here’s what I’ve realised:

I might live in this house for another 10, 20, even 30 years.
And the only person I need to impress is the one who wakes up here every day: me.

So no, I’m not done.
But I’m building something real.
And that’s more than enough.