If there was an Olympic medal for “being busy,” I would have won gold. I had it all: a good corporate job, a part-time business, a marriage, a social life, and regular weekends away with my (ex-)husband. Not every weekend, but often enough to always have something to look forward to. My life seemed perfect.
But honestly? I never thought about peace.
Those weekends were beautiful. Beautiful places, great restaurants, and enough distractions to get me through the week. It worked - for a while. But as soon as I got home, it started again. The same restlessness. The same tiredness. The same emptiness. I thought that if I just had the next weekend, the next vacation, the next project to look forward to, I would finally feel good. But that moment never came.
One Sunday night, everything changed. I was sitting on the couch, still in my weekend clothes, with a glass of wine in my hand. The suitcases were half unpacked in the corner of the room, and my ex-husband was messing around in the kitchen. Everything around me was silent, except my thoughts. And suddenly it dawned on me: This is it. This is your life. And if you don’t change anything now, this is all it will ever be.
I sat there, staring at a wall that seemed to have more meaning than my existence at that moment. All excuses, all distractions fell away. I knew I had locked myself into a life that revolved around running, planning, escaping - always going. I had lost myself in an endless cycle of short-term pleasure and long-term regret.
That Sunday night, there on the couch, I realized: I had never chosen peace. Pleasure was easy. A weekend away, a new experience, a brief escape. But peace? That’s different. Peace requires standing still. It requires honesty, courage, and choices that feel good not just today, but tomorrow, and ten years from now.
I look back on that night as the moment when everything changed. Because it was there that I asked myself the question I want to ask you now: How Often do you choose short-term pleasure to distract yourself from what you really feel? And what would change if you finally stopped running and chose peace?
I’m curious to hear your story – share it below. Maybe this is your moment.
But honestly? I never thought about peace.
Those weekends were beautiful. Beautiful places, great restaurants, and enough distractions to get me through the week. It worked - for a while. But as soon as I got home, it started again. The same restlessness. The same tiredness. The same emptiness. I thought that if I just had the next weekend, the next vacation, the next project to look forward to, I would finally feel good. But that moment never came.
One Sunday night, everything changed. I was sitting on the couch, still in my weekend clothes, with a glass of wine in my hand. The suitcases were half unpacked in the corner of the room, and my ex-husband was messing around in the kitchen. Everything around me was silent, except my thoughts. And suddenly it dawned on me: This is it. This is your life. And if you don’t change anything now, this is all it will ever be.
I sat there, staring at a wall that seemed to have more meaning than my existence at that moment. All excuses, all distractions fell away. I knew I had locked myself into a life that revolved around running, planning, escaping - always going. I had lost myself in an endless cycle of short-term pleasure and long-term regret.
That Sunday night, there on the couch, I realized: I had never chosen peace. Pleasure was easy. A weekend away, a new experience, a brief escape. But peace? That’s different. Peace requires standing still. It requires honesty, courage, and choices that feel good not just today, but tomorrow, and ten years from now.
I look back on that night as the moment when everything changed. Because it was there that I asked myself the question I want to ask you now: How Often do you choose short-term pleasure to distract yourself from what you really feel? And what would change if you finally stopped running and chose peace?
I’m curious to hear your story – share it below. Maybe this is your moment.