3 Things I Learned at the Intersection of Strength & Stillness

Saturday unfolded like the perfect backdrop to welcome fall, with crisp air and golden light setting the scene for an event I had been looking forward to. I pulled up to the venue, a project I recently wrapped up for a local business. The doors had just opened, and cars began streaming in, giving the place a hum of excitement. I had been here before on a Saturday, but I could sense today was different. The energy was electric. We estimated around 1,000 guests, but even without an RSVP system in place—my client didn’t have a customer database for tracking attendance—I had a feeling we were in for a surprise.

As the day unfolded, I took a few moments to pause and observe the scene. At one point, I glanced around and thought, "This has to be at least 4,000 people." Every time I looked up, I couldn’t help but smile. The surge of foot traffic wasn’t just a sign of success; it felt like a shared celebration. It confirmed what I already suspected—we had likely surpassed our revenue goals.

By the time I left, my client couldn’t stop smiling. “Record-breaking,” she said, beaming with pride. I thanked her for trusting me with such an important milestone in her business. She, in turn, thanked me and commented on my calmness, a trait she admired. “You’ve mastered it so young,” she said, almost as if it were a rare skill.

I smiled, but her words made me reflect. Calm wasn’t always second nature to me. In fact, it was something I had to learn—something I had to claim for myself. When I shared this with her, she seemed surprised. “You? Uncalm? I would have never guessed.”

Her reaction made me think about how far I’ve come in mastering my energy. There was a time when I didn’t value it at all. I gave it away freely, allowing external events to dictate my mood, my reactions, and ultimately, my well-being. But motherhood shifted something in me. Since 2019, I've been on a journey of reclaiming my calm. Today, I consider myself a self-declared calmness expert, but it took practice.

Here are three key lessons I’ve learned along the way:

1. I don’t need to react immediately—if at all.

2. There will be moments I’ll want to fold, but I don’t have to.

3. People will need time to adjust to this version of me—and that’s okay.

These lessons didn’t come all at once, but together they’ve formed a foundation. In the past, I was known for my quick, often reactive responses. If something went wrong, I’d scramble to fix it, usually in ways that didn’t serve me. I wasn’t solving problems; I was just trying to keep everyone else happy. I would jump into action, even if I doubted my own solution, because it felt better to please others than to stand in my own discomfort.

Today, things are different. I no longer feel the need to rush into reaction mode just to make others comfortable. I give myself time to think, and if I still get it wrong, I own up to it. The difference is, I move with intention now. When challenges arise, I remind myself that I chose this path, and I’ve created options. I don’t need to fold under pressure; I need to expand beyond it.

On the surface, my reactions may seem minimal, but the inner work is profound. I’ve spent most of my adult life learning how to move the needle—not just check off tasks. This approach is how I handle everything now, from business decisions to everyday moments with my family.

Take my toddler, for example. Imagine he dumped every single one of his toys into a bucket and then decided to overturn that bucket on my head. Picture me sitting on the floor, trying to play with him, only to be showered with heavy wooden toys. In the past, I would’ve been frustrated—disorganized toys, a sore head, and the sound of my child’s laughter adding insult to injury.

But my perspective has changed. My son doesn’t comprehend the situation the way I do. He doesn’t know he’s hurt me; he’s just playing. Yes, the toys are out of order, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be organized again. Rather than reacting poorly, I now use these moments to teach. I’d explain that his action hurt, ask him to help me clean up, and then break the task into manageable steps—creating small, organized piles instead of overwhelming chaos.

As adults, we’re still navigating new experiences, making mistakes, and learning as we go. We look to others to gauge how we should respond when things go wrong. Don’t fall into the trap of thinking you’re too old to experience something new, or that you’ve missed some imaginary deadline for personal growth. Life is unpredictable. Sometimes, it’s amazing; other times, it’s simply okay. Just like in sales, life comes with its fair share of rejections. But it’s the pursuit of those few “yeses” that make the journey worthwhile.

There’s strength in calm, not because it avoids conflict, but because it chooses the right moment to engage. Calm gives us room to breathe, to think, and to act with purpose. And in that space, we discover a deeper power—one that can weather any storm.