When Peace Feels Unfamiliar: Learning to Trust the Quiet

For a long time, I questioned the peace I had worked so hard to establish in my life. I didn’t trust it. I experienced a kind of imposter syndrome when it came to peace — as if calm wasn’t something I was allowed to have for too long.

I would sit in the quiet and interrogate it.
Why is it so quiet?
Why is my phone so dry?
Why am I not caught up in anything?
Why does everything feel so calm?

Instead of enjoying the stillness, I was waiting for the storm to hit. I was bracing myself for chaos, convinced that something had to go wrong eventually. I constantly questioned the peace and stillness in my life because, for so long, that had never been my reality.

If I’m being honest, I never truly had drama of my own — I was always entangled in someone else’s. Family drama. Friends’ problems. Romantic relationships that thrived on chaos. Workplace tension. I told myself I didn’t like drama, and that was true, but somehow I was always close enough to it to feel the emotional weight. And it drained me — mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, because that’s what I was used to.

What I didn’t realize at the time was that peace can feel unfamiliar when you’ve lived most of your life in survival mode.

Over time, I started to unlearn that discomfort. I learned that “no” is a complete sentence. I learned that explanations are optional, not mandatory. I began setting boundaries — real ones, not the kind you explain away out of guilt. I started putting my phone on Do Not Disturb without apologizing for it. I stopped engaging in arguments that didn’t deserve my energy. I stopped feeling the need to respond to everything and everyone immediately.

I found positive, productive hobbies that keep me grounded. I drink a lot of tea. I listen to calming music because it helps regulate my nervous system. I read self-healing books that challenge me, comfort me, and remind me that growth doesn’t always have to be loud. I stay to myself more. I’ve developed daily routines that bring me a sense of stability and safety.

I am actively trying to stay away from people, environments, and habits that pull me back into old patterns I’ve worked hard to break. And that part hasn’t been easy. Growth requires honesty, and sometimes that honesty is uncomfortable. I don’t have everything figured out yet — but the small steps I take every day matter. Every little bit counts.

As I continue this journey, I notice how disconnected I feel from the person I once was. I don’t move the same. I don’t react the same. I don’t tolerate the same things. Some relationships have faded. Some versions of myself no longer exist. I spend more time alone now, but my mind is quieter. My spirit feels lighter.

For the first time in my life, I am truly focused on myself and intentionally pouring into my relationship with God.

It feels right.
It feels soothing to my soul.
Most importantly, it feels peaceful.

Every day isn’t easy. Some days are heavy, lonely, and emotionally challenging — but every hard day has been worth it. Peace isn’t loud. It doesn’t announce itself. Sometimes it looks like a quiet room, a dry phone, a calm heart, and a life that no longer feels like it’s constantly on edge.

If you are in this space right now — questioning your calm, feeling disconnected, or struggling with the unfamiliar quiet — take it one day at a time. You don’t have to overhaul your life overnight. Start small. Find something that fulfills you. Protect your energy. Pour into yourself without guilt.

Trust that peace doesn’t mean something is missing. Sometimes, it means something harmful has finally left.

There is light at the end of the tunnel, sis. And sometimes, that light looks like rest, boundaries, and choosing yourself.