There’s a kind of calm that isn’t really calm at all.
It’s the quiet after a storm… not because the clouds have cleared, but because you’ve stopped trying to stand in the rain.
It’s the kind of calm where you don’t cry, don’t feel, don’t care and convince yourself that’s strength.
Maybe you’ve felt it too. I know I certainly have.
You walk through the door after a long day, drop your bag, and sink into the couch. You scroll. You scroll some more. The world softens around you until everything feels far away and for a moment, it’s blissful.
You tell yourself, “I’m just decompressing.”
But really, you’re disappearing.
You notice your shoulders finally drop, your face softens… but not from ease, from emptiness. You’re there, but not really there. You couldn’t say what you’re feeling if someone asked
That’s what dissociation does.
It tricks your body into thinking absence is rest.
It teaches your nervous system that numb is safer than alive.
So what exactly is dissociation?
Its the body’s built-in escape hatch.
When you’ve spent too long holding your breath - emotionally, mentally, physically your system decides: “It’s safer if we shut down.”
This is called the freeze response - one of your body’s ways to survive threat. When fight or flight isn’t possible, your system goes still. Heart rate drops. Muscles tighten. Emotions go offline. It’s your bodies way of protection.
You don’t choose it consciously. It’s survival.
But the more often your body uses it, the more it becomes a reflex.
Overwhelm hits → you detach.
Pain surfaces → you go blank.
And eventually, you start to confuse the absence of emotion with peace.
When your body is dissociating, you’re not relaxing - you’re escaping.
It can look like:
- Feeling “fine” when you’re actually disconnected
- Spacing out mid-conversation
- Watching Netflix or scrolling on your phone for hours but not remembering what you watched
- Smiling through pain because it feels easier than explaining
- Being the calm one in chaos not because you’re at peace, but because you’ve gone numb.
You stop feeling pain… but you also stop feeling in general.
If you’re having a hard time identifying what is real peace and what is dissociation this is what it can feel like,
One makes you leave yourself. The other lets you return.
Your body always knows the truth, even when your mind doesn’t want to admit it. When you realize how often you’ve been gone, it can feel overwhelming.
You might even want to dissociate from the realization that you dissociate.
That’s okay. Go gently.
Start with small invitations back to your bodyx - no demands, just invitations:
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Pause and name it.
“I feel myself pulling away.”
Naming the pattern loosens its grip. -
Ground in your senses.
Notice five things you can see, four you can touch, three you can hear, two you can smell, one you can taste.
Your senses are doorways back to now. -
Move your body slowly.
Roll your shoulders. Stretch your fingers.
Remind your body it exists. -
Use your breath as a bridge.
Inhale for 4. Hold for 2. Exhale for 6.
Feel your chest rise and fall.
That rhythm? That’s aliveness. -
Write what you find.
You don’t need profound words. Start with honesty:
“I feel disconnected.”
The 365 journal was made to hold what you’re not ready to say out loud - the emotions that live between sentences, the truths that surface when you finally slow down enough to listen.
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Sip something warm. Tea, coffee, even warm water - notice the temperature, the scent, the weight in your hands. Warmth is one of the simplest ways to remind your nervous system that you’re safe.
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Create a “return to self” ritual. Light a candle, open your journal, take three slow breaths. Over time, your body will learn: This is what coming home feels like.
You don’t have to numb yourself to find peace.
You just have to make it safe to stay.
Writing is one of the gentlest ways to come back to yourself because it reconnects the body, mind, and heart.
When you put words to feelings, your brain begins to integrate what was once fragmented. You shift from survival into awareness. That’s why each page of the 365 Journal was created - not to fix you, but to hold space for you to be seen, even by yourself.
Because real calm isn’t silent - it hums. It breathes. It’s the warmth that returns when you stop running from yourself.
You’ve stood in too many storms pretending you didn’t feel the rain.
This time, let it fall, then pick up your journal, and write your way home.
xx- Chanelle
We’d love to hear from you -
Have you ever mistaken numbness for peace?
What helps you reconnect when you start to drift?
Share your thoughts below or on Instagram.
