Latest
When peace feels foreign
There’s a strange fear that creeps in when things are finally calm.
You’d think peace would feel like relief.
But sometimes… it feels like a trap.
I’m not used to calm.
I’m used to chaos disguised as normal.
Raised in noise. Conditioned by unpredictability. Shaped by survival.
I didn’t grow up learning how to rest. I grew up learning how to scan the room.
How to read moods before they shifted.
How to prepare for the storm before the first cloud even formed.
How to be ten steps ahead — just in case.
So now, when everything’s still… my nervous system doesn’t trust it.
When no one’s yelling. When no one’s mad. When no one’s leaving.
I don’t feel safe — I feel suspicious.
Like something’s wrong and I’m just not seeing it yet.
Because in my body, calm doesn’t always feel like safety.
It feels like waiting for the other shoe to drop.
There’s a discomfort in the quiet.
A tension that builds in the silence.
When no one’s texting. When the notifications stop.
When no one’s asking for anything and it’s just me, alone with myself…
It doesn’t always feel good.
It feels foreign.
I’m learning that trauma teaches you to normalize chaos.
It wires your body to expect the worst, even when the worst isn’t coming.
So when something isn’t chaotic — when something is steady — your brain goes into alert mode.
“This can’t be right.”
“This is too good.”
“This won’t last.”
And so, peace becomes uncomfortable. Even scary.
But I don’t want to keep living like this.
I don’t want to keep sabotaging my peace just because it feels unfamiliar.
I don’t want to ruin soft things just because they feel “too quiet.”
I don’t want to keep finding chaos in every calm moment because I’m afraid of being bored, or worse — alone with my thoughts.
So I’ve started wondering…
Can peace be something I practice?
Can I teach my nervous system a new language?
Can I show my body that softness doesn’t always mean danger?
That consistency isn’t always followed by abandonment?
That love doesn’t have to be loud to be real?
Maybe peace isn’t supposed to feel natural at first.
Maybe it’s something you learn to hold.
Like a new instrument. Or a new dialect.
At first, it feels clunky. Awkward. Off-key.
But then — you start to find rhythm.
And eventually… it becomes second nature.
I want peace to be second nature.
I want stillness to feel safe.
I want love that doesn’t rush or push or pull or burn me alive.
I want mornings that don’t start with dread.
I want to wake up and not hear my brain say, “Here we go again.”
I want to breathe without bracing.
I want to enjoy my own company without fearing the silence.
I want to believe that peace can be real, and that I don’t have to earn it through suffering.
So I’m learning.
I’m unlearning.
I’m practicing.
Because maybe peace isn’t a destination.
Maybe it’s a language.
And I’m finally learning how to speak it. #MightyPoets #peace #BipolarDepression #PTSD #BorderlinePersonalityDisorder #Anxiety #Depression
3 reactions •
2 comments
