Power Feels Like Peace Now
There’s something I need to say out loud.
Power is not loud anymore.
Power used to feel like surviving.
Like enduring.
Like pushing through.
Like proving I could handle anything life threw at me.
And I did.
Complex PTSD.
Chronic illness.
Surgeries.
Loss.
Caregiving.
Grief.
Rebuilding my body more than once.
Rebuilding my mind more than once.
For years, my nervous system lived in survival. Even when I thought I was calm, I was bracing.
Now?
Power feels like peace.
And that’s weird.
I don’t wake up tired anymore. I wake up slow.
I don’t jump when a man texts me.
I don’t decode jokes to figure out what he “really” means.
I don’t override my body to accommodate someone else’s insecurity.
I don’t get adrenaline when a conversation gets hard.
I stay steady.
For a long time, love and survival were braided together in my nervous system. Urgency felt like chemistry. Intensity felt like connection. Anxiety felt like desire.
Now desire feels calm.
Boundaries feel normal.
Silence doesn’t scare me.
Being alone doesn’t feel lonely.
That might be the wildest part.
I’ve gone on over 100 dates since my fiancé passed in 2018. I’m not afraid to meet people. I’m not hiding. I’m not bitter. I’m not desperate.
I just won’t settle.
I don’t need a man.
I want one.
There’s a massive difference.
I want someone who adds value.
Who holds accountability.
Who can lead without ego fragility.
Who can be strong in the world and vulnerable behind closed doors.
Someone I desire to be around — not feel obligated to.
And here’s the weird part.
There’s someone in my life who has seen every version of me over the last decade. The good, the bad, the ugly, the healing. I’ve loved him in all seasons. I still do.
But he isn’t choosing.
And for the first time in my life, I’m okay.
Not because I lowered my standards.
Not because I don’t want commitment.
Not because I don’t believe he’s capable of more.
But because I am no longer building hope around potential.
I’m building myself.
If he ever removes the mask and steps fully into who I know he could be, beautiful.
If not, it will be his loss.
And I don’t say that with ego.
I say that with authority.
I am walking in my own authority now.
I no longer look for validation.
I no longer need someone else to lead me.
I no longer negotiate my standards to keep connection.
I allow things to come.
Flow through.
Grow.
Or dissolve.
I don’t force.
I don’t tolerate.
I discern.
And it’s wild how quickly people reveal themselves when you stop playing small.
Insecure jokes.
Disappearing acts.
Blame shifts.
All of it shows up fast when you stand calm and authentic.
Power used to feel like fire.
Now it feels strong and soft at the same time.
Strong because I believe in myself.
Soft because I’m not fighting anything anymore.
I don’t feel lonely.
I don’t feel rushed.
I don’t feel behind.
I feel whole.
And here’s the mic drop:
I am no longer auditioning for love.
I am no longer chasing potential.
I am no longer confusing intensity with intimacy.
I am the standard.
And whoever walks beside me next won’t be someone I needed.
It will be someone who rose!
