Becoming Who You Asked For

Good is scary.
And I mean that with my whole chest.

When you’ve spent most of your life waiting for the next shoe to drop, peace starts to sound like the calm before the storm. You finally get the job, the apartment, the relationship, the therapy breakthroughs and your first thought is, “Okay…but what’s the catch?”

I used to think I was scared of failing.
Turns out, I was scared of arriving.

Because once you finally get what you prayed for, what do you even do with it? When your whole identity has been built around striving, healing, fixing, surviving what happens when things actually get… good?

It’s weird. You beg for peace, and when it shows up, you start pacing like, “Do I even deserve to rest?”

Defining Good for Myself

Sometimes I sit and ask myself, What does good even mean for me?
Not how it looks online. Not the aesthetics. But what does “good” feel like for my actual experience?

Because I think we talk a lot about wanting “better,” but we never define it. We just chase it. And when it shows up, we don’t recognize it because we’re still scanning for problems.

Maybe that’s why good feels so unfamiliar it asks us to stop hustling and start receiving.

Now Let Me Put Y’all in My Business

So, Sunday night. I’m walking my dog, feeling grounded, enjoying the fall air in Chicago and then boom.

A boot on my car.

I froze. I just stood there like, surely this is a prank.

Now let me say this: I’m a responsible woman. I don’t play with them people about their money. But I moved back to the city this summer, still haven’t changed my address (ahhh I thought this was a safe space. I haven’t had my middle part buss down all summer and I need that for my ID picture—the girls who get it, get it), and apparently I collected a few camera tickets I didn’t know about.

When I tell you the City of Chicago does not miss…
$673. How g?!!?!

Now, the old me would’ve lost it. Tears, panic, end-of-the-world energy. Even if I had the money, I’d still crumble just off principle.

But this version of me? I looked at that boot, took a breath, and said, “chile….” Then I went inside, logged in, and paid it.

Did I tear up pressing “submit”? Absolutely. Inflation is violent.
But did it ruin my day? Not even close.

Because inconvenience isn’t the end of the world anymore.

A Small, Grown-Woman Win

That was my little reminder that I’ve become the version of me I used to pray for.
Not the perfect, everything-figured-out version but the woman who can handle life without falling apart every five minutes.

Growth used to mean “nothing bad ever happens.”
Now it means “I know what to do when it does” and in the event I don’t know “I will figure something out.”

That’s the quiet kind of flex nobody talks about the kind where your peace doesn’t depend on everything going right.

When Life Keeps Life-ing

Even when you reach good, life doesn’t stop.
The emails still flood in. The tickets still appear. Somebody still tries you on a Tuesday.

The difference is you.

Now, I breathe before reacting. I pause before spiraling. I laugh at things that used to make me cry.
That’s what growth looks like for me—steady, not stoic.

Learning to Let the Good Stay

I’m learning that “good” doesn’t mean everything’s perfect it means I can stay grounded even when things aren’t.
It’s walking my dog after paying $673 and still feeling thankful I could pay it.
It’s realizing the version of me that used to be triggered by every inconvenience has been replaced by someone softer, wiser, and honestly, funny as hell about it.

Good still feels scary sometimes, but that’s just the growing pains of peace. It’s what happens when your nervous system is learning that calm is safe, too.

If You’re Reading This…

Maybe you’re there right now sitting in the middle of something you once prayed for and not even realizing it because you’re already onto the next goal.

Pause for a second.
Look around.

You might already be living parts of the life you used to beg for.
And if that’s true, celebrate it. Even if your car just got booted. Even if your hair isn’t quite done yet. Even if you’re still figuring out what’s next.

Because this? This is becoming.
Not perfect. Not finished. But present.

I’m not done growing, but I can say this:
This version of me, the one who handles her business, cracks jokes through chaos, and trusts the process, is someone I used to only imagine.

And that’s worth a little gratitude.
And maybe… finally changing my address.