When Peace Feels Uncomfortable at first
===
Erica: [00:00:00] Real talk—peace feels uncomfortable when all you’ve ever known is war. It’s not you, it’s your nervous system still bracing like the fight isn’t over.
Welcome to the Inner Sanctuary Raw. This isn't another Fluffy talk about just relax. Because if it were that easy, you'd already feel safe in silence. Today we're digging into why peace feels so damn uncomfortable at first and why your body not your mind is holding the lock and key. So if you've ever found yourself restless in quiet moments are uneasy.
When things finally slow down, you are not alone. Let's get honest about what's really going on underneath.
Here's the thing, chaos isn't just something you've lived with. It's something your body has memorized. When you were younger, maybe in a toxic relationship or growing up in a house where tension was normal, your body learned [00:01:00] that staying ready kept you alive. So when it finally goes quiet, your brain screams what's coming?
What did I miss? Because silence feels suspicious, and you know what happens then? You start craving noise. You scroll endlessly. You pick fights with people who love you. You sabotage good moments because deep down your body doesn't know how to exist without that edge of danger.
Let that sink in. Peace feels wrong because your nervous system is addicted to the hit of chaos . You've been surviving, not living,
and none of this is your fault. Your body did exactly what it needed to to keep you safe.
It learned that hyper vigilance, tension, and scanning for danger were necessary. But here's the hope. You don't have to live [00:02:00] like that anymore. You can teach your body what safety feels like slowly. One breath, one moment at a time. This isn't about forcing calm or pretending everything's okay.
It is about giving your nervous system gentle, repeated proof that the war is over, then you're allowed to rest now and it's normal. If calm feels weird at first. Your system is wired for protection, not peace , but peace is a skill. One you can practice even if it feels awkward or unfamiliar.
Let's try something together right now. If you can close your eyes for a moment. Feel your feet pressing into the ground beneath you, not metaphorically, literally. Notice how the earth is holding you up without you having to fight for it. Now, take a slow breath in through your nose like you're sipping air.
Let your belly, not your chest expand. [00:03:00] And as you exhale, let your shoulders drop. Un clench your jaw, soften your hands. Say to yourself out loud or in your mind. We're safe. It's okay to exhale. Notice how that lands in your body. Maybe it feels strange, maybe it feels good, maybe it feels nothing at all, and all of that is okay, even if it feels weird, keep practicing. Weird is just the first step to the new normal. Every time you do this, you're giving your nervous system gentle evidence that peace is possible, that stillness isn't danger, it's the doorway to healing.
Peace isn't a sign that something's about to go wrong. It's a sign you're finally home. But first you have to stop mistaking. Chaos for love, and tension for safety. Sit with the quiet. It's not empty. It's where your power is waiting. And every [00:04:00] time you choose to stay with peace, even for a moment, you're rewiring your body to trust safety again.
Thank you for taking this moment with me. Come back to this place whenever you need a reminder that you're safe, you're held, and you're allowed to rest. Until next time, remember, you are not broken. You're learning how to come home to yourself. I'll see you tomorrow.
Peace isn’t empty—it’s where your strength and clarity live. Keep coming back to these moments of stillness, because every breath you take in safety is teaching your body that it’s finally home.”
