I’ve always seen myself as loyal. The kind of loyal that keeps the same best friends until I’m given a reason not to, the same hairstylist for three years too long, and still remembers the name of the tall Air Force babe from Tinder (back when Tinder had just launched) who built all the furniture in my first apartment. Loyalty wasn’t just a word, it was a mindset. It was how I moved through the world. And honestly? It still is. I’m wired for loyalty. I just live in a culture that treats it like a liability.

For me, loyalty’s mostly been worth it. I’m not tossing my wardrobe every time a new trend pops up. Most of my closet is made up of pieces I genuinely love, some from over ten years ago. Style isn’t about keeping up; it’s about what makes me feel like me.

Same with work. I’ve been lucky enough to have jobs that actually take care of me and respect my time and effort. I’m not quitting just because the initial excitement wears off or because some shiny new opportunity appears. I stick it out, put in the work, and reap the rewards that come from real commitment.

And when it comes to my space, I’m not redecorating the whole apartment every time Pinterest rolls out some new microtrend. I curate my surroundings with intention, not just to keep up with whatever is hot this season.

Loyalty whether to my clothes, my jobs, or my home has given me stability and a sense of self in a world that is always screaming for the next upgrade.

Streaming subscriptions? Still holding steady. The one exception? My phone carrier. But honestly? They all feel like nightmares these days. If I didn’t need my phone for work, I’d be rocking a corded old-school landline and calling it a day.

The truth is, most of us have become professional jumpers, and not because we’re flaky, but because the culture conditions us to believe it’s smart. We’re told to chase more. More money. More fun. More freedom. More serotonin in prettier packaging. We’re taught that loyalty is naive and that staying too long in any one place means we’ve failed to evolve.

But I don’t buy into that entirely. I still believe in loyalty. Deeply. Even if the world doesn’t. I just don’t know where that leaves people like me. You know the type. The kind of people who want to stay, but have been taught to leave before they’re left.

And, sometimes that’s valid. But not always.

When “More” Becomes the Default

We live in a world that markets dissatisfaction as self-awareness. The algorithm thrives on your discontent. And now, everything and everyone is seen as temporary. Disposable.

Work? You’re told to never settle, always ask for more, and leave before you “waste your potential.”

Relationships? The moment things get hard, the language of pop psychology gets twisted into an exit strategy.

Friendships? One awkward conversation and it’s “I’m protecting my peace.”

Utilities? Loyalty programs give better deals to new customers than the ones who’ve been paying them consistently for years.

Even our cities, apartments, and hobbies are disposable. There’s always something better around the corner. The dream is mobile, flexible, optimized.

So we keep moving.

Sometimes Walking Away Is the Right Call

Sometimes jumping ship is survival. Leaving a toxic workplace, ending a manipulative relationship, or cutting off a one-sided friendship can be one of the healthiest things you can do. Knowing when to go is powerful.

But we’ve swung so far in the direction of quitting-as-empowerment that we rarely stop to ask if something is actually broken, or just human. Are we leaving because we’ve outgrown it? Or because we’re afraid to grow within it?

Because not everything uncomfortable is unsafe. Not every period of boredom means it’s time to dip.

Loyalty Isn’t Trendy, but Maybe It Should Be

There’s something deeply unsexy about staying. Commitment is rarely viewed as glamorous. It’s often quiet, slow, and invisible. You won’t get a dopamine rush from choosing to work through something. There’s no viral moment in honoring a long friendship through a hard season of life.

But in a culture built on disposability, loyalty is rebellion. Staying becomes an act of self-respect. It says, “This matters enough to be worked on. I matter enough to be invested in.”

And no, this isn’t about tolerating mediocrity or clinging to things out of fear. This is about being intentional. About not confusing discomfort with a dead end. About asking better questions before cutting ties.

So What Do We Do With This?

Honestly? I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out.

But maybe next time we’re tempted to bail on the person, the job, the city, the plan…we pause. Maybe we stop chasing “better” just long enough to ask: Would this actually be fulfilling if I stayed long enough to fully experience it?

Maybe the goal isn’t constant growth. Maybe the goal is depth.

Maybe loyalty isn’t about being stuck, but instead, it’s about being rooted.

We’ve been sold the lie that loyalty is for suckers. But staying, when it’s conscious and chosen, might be the most powerful move we’ve got left.