Something interesting has happened to me over the last year, and I don’t think I fully realized it until recently.

I’ve become incredibly calm.

And I don’t mean that life has suddenly become perfect, or that I don’t have things to worry about. Believe me, I do. But the way I respond to those things has changed so much that sometimes I barely recognize myself.

I used to stress over the most mundane things. Things I couldn’t control, things that hadn’t even happened yet, things that, looking back, probably didn’t deserve five minutes of my attention, much less hours of my peace. And now? Somehow, I’ve learned to be okay with not knowing what’s next.

There are still nights when I’ll randomly wake up at 3 a.m. and my brain decides it’s the perfect time to introduce some completely unnecessary anxiety. You know, because apparently there’s no better time to contemplate life’s problems than when the rest of the world is sleeping. But something about my response has changed. I literally tell myself, “Give it to God and go back to sleep.”

And I do.

Because really, what am I going to solve at three in the morning? What situation is going to improve because I decided to sacrifice a perfectly good night’s sleep worrying about something I can’t do a damn thing about at that moment? It sounds so simple, but I don’t think I’ve always been capable of doing that.

I’ve leaned heavily into my faith lately. Not in a way where I expect everything to go my way, but in a way where I’ve genuinely started trusting that even when things don’t work out the way I hoped, there’s still something to be gained from the experience.

When I look back at my life, I can connect so many dots. Something happened that led to something else. A disappointment redirected me somewhere I never expected. A situation I thought was terrible at the time introduced me to someone or something that ended up being important to my life. Even the things I wish hadn’t happened taught me something. It’s almost fascinating when you think about it. Every single experience, good or bad, has somehow contributed to the person I am today.

And I’ve started sharing that perspective with my kids more and more. Whatever you’re stressing about right now, you’re going to be okay. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not the way you imagined. But somehow, you’re going to be okay.

And if it’s not okay, then maybe the story isn’t finished yet.

I don’t say that because I think life is magically going to work itself out without effort. I say it because I’ve lived long enough to see how often something that felt like the end of the world was actually the beginning of an entirely different chapter.

Another interesting part of this whole experience is that I’ve stopped drinking alcohol. Not because I had some dramatic moment or made a grand announcement. I simply reached a point where I didn’t want it anymore.

The last time I drank was at my son’s 21st birthday, and even then, it wasn’t an experience I particularly enjoyed. I wasn’t drunk. Nothing terrible happened. I just realized I wasn’t getting anything out of it. And the longer I’ve gone without alcohol, the more I’ve noticed something.

The noise in my head has gotten quieter.

I think there were times in my life when having a drink was a way to escape a little. To shut things off, unwind, or temporarily silence whatever was going on in my mind. And there’s absolutely no judgment toward anyone who drinks. Different strokes for different folks. I’m just speaking about my own experience.

But what’s interesting is that I no longer feel like I need something to help me enjoy life or escape from it. I just live it. I allow myself to feel whatever I’m feeling. If something makes me sad, I can be sad. If I’m frustrated, I can be frustrated. If I’m worried, I acknowledge it. But I no longer feel the need to sit in those emotions indefinitely. They come, they go, and life continues.

And physically? My goodness, the difference I’ve noticed. But even that brings me to another realization. For probably the first time in my life, I’m genuinely taking care of my body because I appreciate it, not because I’m trying to make it look a certain way.

Of course, I enjoy looking better. I’m human. I’m not going to pretend I don’t appreciate the physical changes. But something about my motivation is different now. I’ve started looking at my body as something God gave me that deserves to be cared for. The food I eat, the water I drink, the way I exercise, the way I rest, the way I speak to myself, and even the way I dress.

I’ve invested in myself in ways I probably wouldn’t have before. I’ve bought new clothes, put more thought into how I present myself, and made a genuine effort to feel good about the woman looking back at me in the mirror. Not because I wasn’t good enough before, but because maybe I wasn’t fully appreciating myself before. And I think there’s a difference.

There’s something really beautiful about reaching a point where you’re no longer trying to change yourself because you dislike who you are. You’re making changes because you’ve finally realized you’re worth the effort.

And perhaps that’s where some of this peace is coming from. Maybe it’s the faith. Maybe it’s not drinking. Maybe it’s the attention I’ve given my physical and emotional health. Maybe it’s the accumulation of all the lessons life has taught me. Or maybe it’s all of it. I don’t really know.

What I do know is that my mind is quieter than it’s ever been. That doesn’t mean I don’t experience stress. I absolutely do. But now, when something happens, I give myself a moment to feel whatever I need to feel, and then I start thinking about what I can actually do about it. If there’s a solution, I work toward it. If it’s out of my hands, I let it be. And if I don’t know what comes next, I’ve learned that I don’t necessarily need to know right now.

It’s such a different way of living. Sometimes I wonder, is this what adulting is supposed to feel like? Because I know plenty of adults who are still walking around like human stress balls. I work with some of them. LOL.

I’m certainly not suggesting I’ve figured out some secret to life or that I’ll never have another difficult season. But for the first time in a very long time, I’m not waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m not trying to predict what’s coming next, and I’m not losing sleep over things I can’t control.

I’m just genuinely happy with where I am, who I’m becoming, and the peace I’ve found along the way. And if you had told the younger version of me that one day her mind would be this quiet, she probably wouldn’t have believed you.

But here we are.

And God, does it feel good.