Inner pease is not perfection

There’s this assumption that people who write about inner peace must have mastered it.

As if peace is a destination someone arrives at and never leaves.

The other day someone said: “The people who write about inner peace the most seem to experience it the least.”

Maybe… but I truly believe that only people who have made peace with themselves are brave enough to write about it.

Inner peace is sometimes misunderstood

The more I sit with what he said, the more I realise how misunderstood inner peace really is.

Inner peace is not the absence of darkness.

It is not becoming someone who never overthinks, never feels anxious, never breaks, never reacts, never doubts themselves again.

Honestly, that version of peace does not feel human to me.

Real peace is softer than that.

It’s your ability to sit with your discomfort, with the shadow and pour love into yourself.

It is being able to embrace every version of yourself, without ignoring the parts that are harder to love.

And the truth that may be hard to swallow is: if you’re judging those who talk about their tough stories as lacking inner peace, you’re most likely judging yourself too.

People who write about inner peace

I think people who openly write about healing, peace, self-awareness, or spirituality are often the people who have finally stopped running from themselves long enough to put those feelings into words.

They are still human; that doesn’t change.

Maybe they experience a different type of peace? Certainly different from the perfect image others have.

A kind that comes from no longer performing perfection.

From being open, vulnerable and able to admit that they’re still healing, learning, and still have darkness.

They just no longer need to pretend otherwise.

That kind of honesty is peaceful in its own way.

And truth, even when imperfect, feels more peaceful than pretending ever will.

❤️