The Quiet After the Storm: Finding Calm When Chaos is All You’ve Known

We spend so much of our lives bracing for the next storm—muscles tensed, mind racing, heart always just a few beats ahead of the present moment. Chaos becomes familiar, a place where we know the rules and can anticipate every flash of lightning. But what happens when the storm finally passes, and a strange, unfamiliar quiet settles in?

For so many of us, this quiet—this sudden calm—can feel not like relief, but like an eerie void. We find ourselves scanning the horizon for the next threat, the next crisis. The truth is, peace can feel deeply uncomfortable if you’ve built your life inside the eye of the hurricane.

The Body’s Storm: Sympathetic vs. Parasympathetic

To understand why stillness can feel so alien, we have to look at the incredible intelligence of our bodies. Our autonomic nervous system has two main branches: the sympathetic and the parasympathetic.

• The sympathetic nervous system is our internal storm chaser. It’s responsible for the “fight, flight, or freeze” response—flooding us with adrenaline, increasing our heart rate, sharpening our senses, and priming us to take action. This response is essential for survival. But when we live in prolonged states of stress, our sympathetic system gets stuck in overdrive, making chaos feel like home.

• The parasympathetic nervous system is the calm after the storm. It’s the part of us that invites rest, digestion, healing, and a return to safety. When the parasympathetic system leads, our bodies can finally let go, our breath deepens, and a sense of peace slowly takes root.

  
  

When Calm Feels Unsafe: The Pull of Chaos

Here’s the paradox: calm can feel threatening when chaos is your norm. The familiar hum of anxiety, the rush of adrenaline, and the sense of urgency are, in a twisted way, comforting because they’re what we know. The body and mind equate chaos with “normal.” So, when the storm clears and quietness settles in, it can feel like standing on foreign ground—unsteady, untrusting, even exposed.

• You might notice your body tensing, scanning for something to worry about.

• Thoughts may race to invent a new crisis, or revisit old anxieties.

• You might feel restless, bored, or even irritable in the absence of drama.

There is a very real pull toward the familiar chaos. Like a magnet, old patterns tug us back to what we know—even if what we know is anxiety and turmoil. Sometimes, peace can feel suffocating, almost like waiting for an ambush. You might catch yourself stirring up conflict, sabotaging moments of rest, or picking apart relationships that feel “too good to be true.” This is your nervous system trying to restore its version of “normal”—even when that “normal” is actually keeping you from healing.

Learning to Stay: Choosing Soothing on Purpose

The good news is that you can teach your body and mind that it’s safe to rest.

But it is a practice—a conscious, intentional act of self-compassion.

• Recognize the pull: Start by noticing when you feel uneasy in the quiet. What do you crave—drama, noise, busy-ness? Does your mind seek out old arguments or new problems to solve?

• Pause, breathe, and name it: Labeling the discomfort—“This is my body missing the chaos”—can defuse some of its power. You are not your anxiety; you are someone learning to soothe it.

• Consciously allow the soothing: In those moments, gently remind yourself: “It is safe to be here. I don’t have to create a storm to feel alive.” Let your body practice being at ease, even if just for a minute at a time.

• Practice, not perfection: The urge to self-sabotage or stir up trouble is old wiring, not a personal failing. Be gentle with yourself when you notice these patterns arise.

The Sabotage Trap: When Peace Feels Like a Threat

Here’s where it gets especially tricky: when we finally land in a soothing relationship or experience, our nervous system might interpret it as “unsafe” simply because it’s unfamiliar. We may:

• Pick fights with a partner who is kind and steady, simply because it feels “too calm.”

• Leave a healthy job, friendship, or situation, craving the adrenaline we’re used to.

• Create unnecessary drama or retreat emotionally when things are going well.

This isn’t a flaw—it’s a defense mechanism. The body is trying to protect you from the unknown, even if the unknown is peace.

Learning to recognize self-sabotage is the beginning of healing. When you notice yourself poking holes in happiness, ask: What am I afraid will happen if I let myself rest here? Sometimes, the answer is as simple as “I don’t know how to be safe in this softness.”

Allowing the Nervous System to Relearn Safety

Healing comes from honoring the old survival skills—and choosing, again and again, to practice new ones.

• Let yourself stay in soothing spaces, even if they feel awkward or dull at first.

• Seek support from people and practices that help your body feel safe (breathwork, somatic exercises, gentle movement).

• Remind yourself: I am worthy of a life that isn’t dictated by storms.

The quiet isn’t empty or dangerous. It’s the soil where new growth takes root.

It’s the invitation to let peace become your new familiar.

With you in the messy middle,

Sarah