When Calm Stopped Feeling Like Something I Had to Protect
Letting ease exist without bracing for its loss
When calm first returned, I didn’t trust it.
I stayed alert inside it, half-expecting it to vanish.
“I experienced calm while still preparing for it to end.”
That tension followed me even on good days.
This didn’t mean calm was fragile — it meant my body hadn’t caught up yet.
Why Calm Once Felt Temporary
Earlier in recovery, calm had come and gone.
It wasn’t something I could count on.
“I learned to treat ease as a pause, not a state.”
That learning stayed with me longer than it needed to.
I had already noticed this pattern when I stopped treating every good day as temporary, which I reflected on in How I Stopped Treating Every Good Day as Temporary.
How Protection Can Quietly Turn Into Tension
Trying to protect calm required effort.
I monitored my energy, my reactions, my environment.
“I was guarding peace instead of living inside it.”
This vigilance made calm feel thinner than it actually was.
It kept my nervous system partially engaged.
What Shifted When Calm Started Repeating
Calm didn’t announce itself as permanent.
It simply kept returning.
“Nothing bad happened when I stopped watching it.”
That repetition mattered.
It showed my body that ease could be stable, not conditional.
Why Letting Calm Be Ordinary Changed Everything
Once calm stopped feeling special, it stopped feeling risky.
I didn’t have to preserve it.
“Calm became the background instead of the reward.”
This echoed what I had already noticed when improvement became the background instead of the focus.
I had explored that shift more deeply in When Improvement Became the Background Instead of the Focus.