Calm. Quiet. Almost boring. That’s become my life. It’s what I’ve always wanted — dreamed of, really. That harmonious life you only see in the movies? Well, you could say I’m living it.

And yet, there’s this lingering restlessness, this subtle buzz beneath the surface. It’s like I’m waiting for something to go wrong, even when everything is just right.

Do you ever feel that way? You get everything you’ve been working towards, and then, BAM — chaos. It’s as if, on some unconscious level, we invite it. To shake things up a bit, to add a little drama, a little excitement. Maybe it’s the only way to get off the couch and feel alive. It gives us something to worry about, doesn’t it?

 

The truth is, many of us aren’t familiar with calm. Our nervous systems don’t recognize it, so we perceive it as wrong and unsettling. We’re so used to being on edge that when peace finally comes, it feels…unnatural. So, we look for something — anything — to worry about. I know this because that was me. For a long time.

 

I grew up as a child of alcoholics, and sadly, I knew what ‘scotch on the rocks with a twist’ was long before I even started school. I also learned not to trust, not to speak, and, most importantly, to not feel. I became disconnected from myself and my body, tuning into everyone else’s needs while neglecting my own. My fight-or-flight response was permanently engaged, always anticipating the next storm. That was my normal.

 

But something shifted for me recently. It hit me like a ton of bricks yesterday while binge-watching Young Sheldon on Netflix (season six, if you’re wondering). I had been glued to the screen for hours when it dawned on me — I didn’t have anything to worry about. Nothing. All was well, and I had time to enjoy life. I am smack in the middle of packing for yet another move (a story for another day), but even amidst the boxes, I realized that I’d been resisting fun, creativity, and life itself. Somewhere along the way, I had stopped writing — my favorite creative outlet — because I was too caught up in unnecessary worry.

 

All of a sudden, it became crystal clear. I am living my dream life. I have freedom — freedom of time, freedom of money. I no longer have to battle traffic every morning. Instead, I make my own hot latte, sit on my giant, white, comfy couch, and start my day with prayer and meditation. I have time to tune into my inner wisdom, do shadow work, practice yoga, take daily walks, and make room for even more blessings. I’m not rushing through life, missing the beauty of stillness.

 

As I let go of what I thought my life should look like, my spirit embraced this new, unfamiliar calm. And it’s glorious. Trust me, life is much easier when you’re flowing with it instead of fighting against it. When I try to take over and control everything, I end up getting in my way. When I surrender and allow Spirit to handle the big (and little) things, life starts to fall into place. It’s not always perfect, but it’s perfectly imperfect.

 

I’ve found deep appreciation and gratitude for the life I have. It’s messy, sure, but it’s mine, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. That doesn’t mean there aren’t things I’d change — I could list off a dozen things right now that I’d like to be different.

 

Here’s just a few:

  • A close relationship is deeply strained over a disagreement regarding church beliefs.
  • I’m packing for my 13th cross-country move in 11 years.
  • Dating? Let’s not even go there.
  • Work, career, finances? They’re all still a work in progress!

None of these are small things. But here’s the kicker — they’re all exactly as needed. I’ve come to accept that I’m exactly where I need to be, doing exactly what I need to do. And even if it doesn’t look perfect on the surface, deep down, I know it is.

 

As I sit here, breathing in the clean air around me, I’m reminded of something incredibly simple yet profound: this moment is all that matters. The NOW moment is all we have. And when we become mindful of this present moment — by tuning into our senses — seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling, and touching — it becomes clear that all is perfect in this very moment.

Right now, in this moment, there is nothing to worry about. No one is yelling, and no horns are honking. There’s no chaos. Quiet and peace envelope me. 

 

The healing journey has been long and winding, and there have been plenty of bumps along the way. Over the past few decades, I’ve been actively working on uncovering the layers of trauma that continued to trigger me. And while I’m not entirely “there” yet (who is?), I’ve peeled back enough layers to realize that peace is possible.

 

In these moments, I reassure my inner self that everything is okay, that there is nothing to fear, and that all is well in this NOW moment. As I take a deeper breath, I can feel my nervous system calm even more, allowing me to sink deeper into the quiet of the present. Once constantly on high alert, my body is now in harmony with my spirit.

 

And just like that, the restlessness I began with fades away. The harmony returns.

 

So, if you’re like me — if you’ve found yourself living the life you always wanted but can’t seem to shake the need for chaos — take a breath. Pause. Recognize the beauty of the moment you’re in. Embrace the calm, even if it feels unfamiliar. It’s what you’ve been striving for all along, after all.

 

And remember, in this moment, all is well. You are well. There is nothing more to do but breathe, be present, and trust that everything is unfolding exactly as it should.