NdukuOutLoud

On starting points identity, and internal thermostats.

Human life, it seems—or as has been sold to us—is a continuous strife upwards. Climbing corporate ladders, breaking glass ceilings, and getting to the peak of our performance. It is up, up, and up.

There is nothing wrong with it. With always wanting to do better. To be better. To scale heights further and further above. If anything, working towards better and more is key to a fulfilling life. Looking forward reduces the existential burden of waking up every morning wondering why in the world you are here, and if any of it is worth it. The pursuit of higher, for more, adds fuel to the day-to-day.

I do not think there is anything wrong with this. Unless what we are chasing was never a choice of ours, or if it causes harm, or most importantly, when it removes the joy of the current situation—so much so that we wait to feel happy only when we achieve. Then that becomes a problem.

Lately, though, I have been thinking about the other end of the journey up. The roof, in the case of glass ceilings. The starting point, if you may call it that.

It is not the same for all of us. How high the ceiling is, is always in relation to the floor. And we do not pay enough attention to the floor.

We all seem to want to reach the highest: the best cars, the huge mansions, the expensive vacations—while working from a starting point or floor of lack and survival. Of bare-minimum love and barely surviving school terms.
It is not wrong to want. And if we work hard enough, we might just get all these things. But if the starting point is the basement, then maybe we need to raise the floor a little bit to make the ceiling reachable.

Psychology has a term for our baseline state: our internal thermostat. If your self-concept is calibrated to survival mode or scarcity, any temporary success that pushes you into abundance feels like an anomaly. Your internal system works overtime to pull you back down to your baseline temperature—often through self-sabotage, anxiety, or feeling like an imposter. We seek conditions that verify who we believe we are, even when those beliefs limit us.

Raising your floor is not settling for less or lowering your ambition; it is recalibrating that thermostat. It is setting a new, non-negotiable bottom. When your floor is higher, you no longer tolerate basement-level treatment, scarcity thinking, or self-sabotage—because that is simply no longer who you are.

This requires changing our identity and beliefs about ourselves and the world at large. Raising the floor isn’t about grand declarations; it is built on micro-standard shifts and quiet daily habits.

• In physical self-care: It is moving from “I will try to work out if I find time” to a non-negotiable floor of “I move my body for twenty minutes every single day, no matter how busy I am.”
• In boundaries and self-talk: It is shifting from tolerating chaotic, inconsistent relationships to establishing a floor where peace and clear communication are the baseline expectation, not a luxury.
• In financial and creative life: It is moving away from the survival habit of frantic, last-minute operating, to building a floor of daily, quiet discipline—writing a single paragraph, saving a small percentage, or organizing your space before you rest.

It is acknowledging where we are starting from and actively becoming the kind of people who can reach, and then break, the ceiling.

Because if we are only clear about where we are headed while ignoring where we are starting from, we will not know how far we need to go, how to prepare, what to carry, or how to ensure we get to the end. Knowing where we start from is paramount to planning ahead.

It is also important because it gives us the opportunity to do different for our children—to give them a higher floor, a better starting point. Making it a little easier to get to the peak, without having to start from the basement too, but a few floors up. Giving them a head start by reducing the distance from floor to ceiling is one of the best things we can do for them.

“The ceiling might rise, too,” I can hear your thoughts.

It probably will. But if the foundation is proper and stable—if the starting point is a little higher than where we found it—then reaching a higher ceiling will not be a problem.

So, raise the floor. Make a point today of looking at where you are starting from. If you are wanting riches while operating on a scarcity mentality, hoping for love while convinced people cannot be trusted, or wanting a healthier body while refusing to see yourself as someone who honors their physical self: stop trying to jump higher. Raise the ground you stand on.

Reduce the distance between who you are and where you want to be by becoming the kind of person who believes and does what needs to be done. Build a foundation where reaching the peak isn’t a miraculous leap, but simply the next logical step.