When I stayed at the Housing Authority, I told myself the same thing many people do: at least I have a steady paycheck. That paycheck became my reason for enduring, my justification for ignoring the exhaustion, and my comfort on the days when I wanted to walk away. But looking back, I see that what I thought was comfort was actually a cage.

The problem with comfort is that it can disguise itself as security. I thought because my bills were paid and my role was predictable, I was safe. But I wasn’t safe — I was stuck. I had confused familiarity with stability. The paycheck gave me a sense of control, but inside I was losing myself.

The day they illegally withheld my final paycheck was a wake-up call. The very thing I had clung to as my safety net ended up proving that it was never security at all. It was just a system that could take from me whenever it wanted. That moment forced me to face how much of my life I had spent in a false sense of safety.

God has been teaching me in this season that true safety doesn’t come from a paycheck. It doesn’t come from a title, a schedule, or routine. True safety comes from alignment with Him. When I step into His will, He provides. Fasting reminded me that I don’t need to lean on physical comfort when He is my source. My soul fast revealed how much I had turned to “distractions” to feel at ease. But none of them compared to the peace that came when I let go of what was false.

It’s not easy to admit how long I let comfort keep me trapped. But the truth is, the things that feel familiar can sometimes be the very things holding us back from freedom. The paycheck wasn’t bad in itself — but using it as an excuse to stay in a harmful environment kept me out of alignment with my true purpose.

Since walking away, I’ve realized that comfort without growth is just confinement. God didn’t call me to settle into cages. He called me to walk in freedom. And sometimes freedom requires leaving behind what feels secure in order to embrace what is truly safe.

I’ve promised myself I won’t mistake familiarity for safety again. The next time something feels “comfortable,” I’ll ask myself: does this align with God’s vision for me, or am I just afraid to leave what I know?

Because comfort can feel like home — but if it’s keeping me from purpose, it’s really just a prison.