đż Growing Into Peace
For months now, Iâve been reflecting, writing, healing, peeling back layer after layer of myself. Every week, I sit with new revelations, trying to understand the why behind my patterns.
Each Monday, I wake up with a different kind of heaviness. Sometimes itâs something I uncovered in therapy. Other times, itâs a moment in life that triggers a deeper truth. But no matter the catalyst, change has been inevitable.
For so long, my life was chaos; loud inner dialogue, constant self-criticism, the need to prove myself. Prove myself to a man. To my job. To myself. It felt like I was always running toward or away from something, lights flashing red and yellow everywhere I turned.
Until suddenly⊠they stopped.
The lights turned green.
And instead of urgency, there was stillness. Instead of noise, quiet. Instead of chaos, peace.
And peace, when youâre not used to it, can feel like somethingâs wrong.
đȘWhen the Familiar Stops Working
Lately, life has been eerily peaceful. Nothingâs moving too fast or too slow. Just steady. And that stillness, at first, felt uncomfortable.
I found myself trying to create chaos again. I thought, âMaybe if I just post again on Instagram, thatâll stir something up.â Nothing.
I lurked on an old flingâs page â radio silence.
Tried to reconnect with another old flame â no spark.
Each time I tried to recreate my old patterns, the universe whispered back: No. Youâve outgrown this.
And it hit me. I wasnât being ignored â I was being redirected.
đ± Stillness Isnât Nothing Happening
I only realized Iâd outgrown my last shell because of what came next: the way new men approached me and how I handled it.
Old me wouldâve spiraled, overanalyzed, tried to prove my worth in between the silence.
Now, I tell myself: youâre collecting data, not building yet.
I caught myself in real-time calming my own anxiety, reminding myself that my worth isnât up for negotiation.
And that was the moment I realized, stillness doesnât mean nothingâs happening.
Stillness means everything is aligning.
Itâs the universe preparing you to live as the person youâve been becoming.
Every failed attempt to go back was actually divine redirection; an invitation to see how far Iâve come.
I thought nothing was happening, but the truth is⊠everything was.
đŒ The Art of Letting the Universe Lead
This week, I want you to sit with yourself and notice where youâre resisting whatâs next.
Where are you trying to hold on to comfort that no longer fits?
Who or what are you clinging to that brings familiarity but not peace?
Itâs okay if itâs hard. Letting go of what once soothed you is one of the most painful parts of growth. But remember just because something was always there for you doesnât mean you have to stay there to receive it.
When the same things stop fulfilling you in the same ways, itâs not punishment, itâs preparation.
And if youâre still feeling the pull toward your old comforts, I get it.
Sometimes the ache to go back isnât about wanting what you had; itâs about missing who you were when it felt easy.
But the truth is, youâve outgrown the version of you who found safety in the storm.
If youâve already stepped into your next chapter, I applaud you.
If youâre still standing between the old and the new, feeling the tug of both, trust that youâre not behind, youâre just in between.
When life feels quiet or even boring, itâs not because nothingâs happening.
Itâs because the universe is now creating new experiences that match who youâve become.
Youâre not being forgotten; youâre being refined for whatâs next.
đ A Gentle Reminder for Your Weekend
Everything youâve been working toward is already making its way to you.
The stillness isnât the end; itâs the inhale before the next beginning.
This weekend, instead of reaching for what used to comfort you, try leaning into what feels peaceful, even if it feels unfamiliar.
Let quiet be proof that life is still moving, even when you canât see the motion.
You donât have to chase alignment; itâs already finding you.
đ· Thank You for Reading
To the part of you that made space to be here; thank you.
I hope these words remind you that stillness is not an absence, but an awakening.
That peace can be just as transformative as pain, and rest can be its own revolution.
May you stop mistaking quiet for emptiness and begin to see it as arrival.
You are allowed to outgrow what once soothed you. You are allowed to rest in whatâs new.
âš Affirmation Set:
I trust the timing of my unfolding, even when I canât yet see whatâs forming.
I no longer chase what Iâve outgrown; peace is my new form of passion.
I am learning to live without constant confirmation; I am my own evidence.
The absence of chaos is not emptiness; itâs the space where miracles have room to move.
I am safe to let ease replace effort, and trust replace control.
Every ending Iâve mourned was simply the universe making space for my next beginning.
đ Soft Return Reflection Prompts:
What parts of me only know how to feel safe when something needs fixing â and who might I become if I stopped searching for something to fix?
What am I afraid will happen if I let things be easy? Do I feel I deserve ease?
What old version of me am I grieving as I outgrow the places and people that once soothed her?
If the universe is aligning everything in my favor, what might this quiet chapter be trying to teach me before the next expansion begins?
Until Next Time đș