For a long time, I lived in my head.

Not in a thinking-deeply kind of way—but in a going-back-and-forth-with-myself kind of way.

I revisited the same choice over and over, as if something new would appear if I just thought harder.

It was exhausting.

Sometimes it showed up in small things—like my hair or what to do for the evening.
Other times it was bigger—direction, timing, next steps.

But the pattern was always the same: mental gymnastics.

I told myself I was being thoughtful. Responsible. Wise.

But it wasn’t clarity I was after.

It was control.

Mental gymnastics was how I tried to manage the discomfort of uncertainty. I wanted to feel settled before I actually was. I kept my mind moving because stillness felt too vulnerable.

Control kept me busy.
Peace asked me to be quiet.

And for a long time, peace wasn’t the goal.

Certainty was.

But I learned something: peace doesn’t come from making the perfect decision.

If it did, the most anxious people would be the most peaceful.

Peace came when I released the need to get everything right.

When I chose with the light I had and trusted God with what I didn’t.
When I let decisions land instead of renegotiating them ten times in my head.
When I accepted that faith doesn’t eliminate uncertainty—it teaches us how to live inside it without spiraling.

I stopped asking myself only What’s the right choice?

And started asking, What choice lets me breathe?

I stopped asking, What if I regret this?

And started asking, What if I stop carrying this so tightly?

That shift changed everything.

I realized mental gymnastics wasn’t wisdom.
It was fear dressed up as responsibility.

And I was tired of being tired.

So I gave it up.

I chose peace over control.
Trust over overthinking.
Stillness over endless internal debate.

Not because life became clearer—but because I did.

And I learned this:
If a decision costs me my peace, it’s already too expensive.

Until next time,

Dominique