After the Noise

 Alignment feels quieter than I thought it would.

It’s not fireworks.

It’s not everything clicking overnight.

It’s small things.

Waking up without dread.

Making decisions without over-explaining them.

Choosing rest without guilt.

What feels aligned lately is steadiness.

My marriage feeling like partnership instead of pressure.

Friendships that feel reciprocal instead of performative.

Work that feels honest instead of impressive.

Alignment, for me, looks like not forcing.

Not forcing conversations.

Not forcing outcomes.

Not forcing myself into rooms that don’t feel natural.

Seven or eight years ago, my life felt loud.

I was living with a roommate.

Everything felt heightened.

Reactive.

Emotional.

There was always something happening.

Something to process.

Something to navigate.

I thought that intensity meant connection.

I thought constant movement meant growth.

Now I know better.

Alignment feels like calm.

It’s lifting because I want to feel strong — not because I’m punishing myself.

It’s protecting my peace without announcing it.

It’s choosing depth over display.

It’s noticing that my nervous system feels calmer than it used to.

That’s new.

Seven or eight years ago, I thought alignment meant intensity.

Now it means consistency.

It means I’m not chasing.

I’m choosing.

If it disrupts my peace, it’s not aligned.