There have been a few days lately where I’ve found myself surrounded by people — full rooms, layered conversations, overlapping laughter. The kind of days that used to quietly exhaust me.

But something’s shifted. I’m noticing a calm that sits quietly beneath it all. It’s not that the noise has changed, or the people — it’s me.

Finding my own peace has made me softer in the world. More accepting. I no longer feel the need to close myself off to protect myself. I can be among people — really be there — without the invisible shield I used to carry.

I used to think I needed tolerance, as if being around others required endurance or forgiveness. But that’s not it. It’s not about them; it’s about me. Peace hasn’t made me blind to difference — it’s just made me more open to it.

Now I move through the world instead of pushing my way through it.

It’s not foolproof — the old triggers are still there: too many voices at once, too much energy in one space, my mind spinning faster than I can track. But even in those moments, I can see it happening. I can breathe.

I find myself smiling more easily, letting things go that once sat heavy on my chest. The need to “win” a conversation or prove my point feels unnecessary. Grudges seem like clutter — things I’ve been carrying for no reason at all.

It feels incredible to notice peace in real time — not just looking back later and realising I was calm, but knowing it as it’s happening.

Maybe that’s what growth really is: catching yourself being different, and choosing to stay that way.