The more I heal, the less passionate I feel about certain situations. Maybe it’s just a part of getting older, I’m not sure. But these days, I find myself clinging tightly to the things that truly matter, while letting all the outside noise fade into the background. I don’t even want to care about anything else, anymore. I don’t have the energy to. It’s not that I don’t care. I’ve just run out of room for things that drain me. Maybe this is what being an adult really feels like. This realization that peace comes much more easily, when we’ve stopped trying to fight every little wave. The drama, the opinions, the constant need to prove something, it all starts to blur into background noise. I’ve reached a point where I’m just tired of it all. I’m tired of explaining myself, tired of trying to make sense of things that were never meant to make sense. Tired of trying to make people see my perspective when they were never really listening in the first place, adamant in their ways. So I stopped. I let it play like traffic in the distance. Always there, but no longer worth my attention. Because there’s no winning that fight. I can’t change what people think of me. All I can hold onto, is the quiet truth that I did my best. That I showed up, tried and kept my peace intact. These days, I’ve learned to move with whatever swings my way. Not everything deserves a reaction, not every misunderstanding needs a fix. And sometimes, the most mature thing you can do is to quietly choose yourself, over and over again. It’s not indifference, though many might have understood it as so, but it’s self-preservation, disguised as calm.
The more I let go of things that I couldn’t control, the more at peace I felt. Isn’t it strange how peace can often look like distance? You’re stepping back, and people think you’ve changed. That you’ve grown cold, detached, or maybe even stopped caring. But what they don’t see is how much it took for you to get here. How much noise you had to drown out just to hear yourself again. It’s not some graceful release that happens overnight. It takes a lot of time, patience and some honesty with yourself. Letting go is messy and painful. It’s like unclenching a fist that’s been gripping too hard for far too long. As someone who’s well-known among my peers for holding grudges, it was especially difficult for me to release things I knew, were beyond my control. But then again, I couldn’t control people’s lips when they spoke vile, false words about me or my loved ones. I couldn’t stop the accusations or the quiet malice that hid behind their polite smiles. What I can control, though, is my reaction. One thing that stayed with me to this day, besides taking very long, very deep breaths, is something my professor had once said during my university days. We were discussing the nature of negotiations through enacting case studies, when he asked us to look around and notice who spoke the most, and who spoke the least. Once we did identified it all, he told us that: usually, the ones with the most to lose talk the most. The ones with real power, are the ones who stay quiet.
Letting go isn’t easy. But once I continuously ingrained his words into my head, whispered a few prayers for patience and began releasing my anger and frustration through healthier outlets, like exercise, things slowly got easier. I could feel that proverbial fist of mine loosening, one finger at a time. Life feels so much lighter when we stop clinging to the things we can’t control. I've come to understand that not every story deserves closure. Not every person deserves an explanation. Some endings just simply don’t come with words. They come with acceptance. And maybe, that’s enough. Peace is not about having everything figured out. It’s about trusting yourself to stay grounded through the storm. No matter how bad it gets. So now, when things fall apart or drift away, I no longer chase after them. I breathe. I pause. I remind myself that: if it’s meant to stay, it will flow back naturally. Until then, I’ll keep walking with open hands and a quiet heart, ready for whatever swings my way. Because at the end of the day, peace isn’t something you stumble upon. It’s something you choose, over and over again. In silence, in stillness and in letting go. That’s where real strength comes from: not in holding tighter, but in learning to release with grace. Just like what Sun Tzu had written in The Art of War: “He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight.” Sincerely, Cherie. The Whiffler is free today. But if you enjoyed this post, you can tell The Whiffler that their writing is valuable by pledging a future subscription. You won't be charged unless they enable payments.
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Sunday, 26 October 2025
Whatever Swings Your Way
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