10 Things I Had to Lose Before I Found Peace Again

The Weary Heart #28

Nov 03, 2025

Not a lengthy post today but a few highlights I wanted to talk about regarding this topic. I hope it’s helpful. Apply what’s relevant for your current conditions in life.

For the longest time, I thought peace was something you had to find and pursue, waiting to be chased down with the right goals, the right people, the right habits.
But peace was never hiding. It was buried under everything I refused to let go of.

This isn’t a list of achievements or affirmations. It’s an honest confession.
Ten things I had to lose painfully, slowly, intentionally before I could finally breathe again.

1. The Habit of Constant Doing

I used to wear busyness like a badge of honour. Although my schedule has not gotten any lighter (it may have increased tbh). But I used to think that the later I slept, the more useful I was. The busier my schedule, the more purposeful I thought I was.
Until one day, my body gave up before my mind did.

I had to lose the habit of constant doing.
I learnt that not every moment needs to be productive. Some are meant to be peaceful. Even our Prophet Muhammad ﷺ gently reminded us, “Your body has a right over you.”

So if you’re allergic to the idea of rest as a reward. It isn’t. It’s a right.

Now, when I rest, I remind myself: I’m not falling behind. I’m recharging my body and my mind.

2. The Thoughts That Kept Me Small

It took me years to realise that most of my exhaustion came from the conversations inside my head. The thoughts that said, you’re not enough, you should’ve done better, you’re running out of time.

Losing those thoughts wasn’t easy. They’d been there for years (especially throughout my teenage years) like uninvited tenants who never paid rent. #rentfree

But my decision to focus on peace demanded their eviction.

I began to replace them with simpler truths:

“I’m doing my best. I’m learning. I’m allowed to rest.”

And slowly, my mind stopped being a battlefield. It became a garden again.

3. The Perspective That Mistook Busyness for Purpose

I once believed that the more I did, the more meaningful my life was.
I filled my days with meetings, projects, and endless to-do lists.

But then I remembered something powerful —> before revelation came, our Prophet ﷺ used to withdraw into the cave of Hira’.

He wasn’t building an empire. He was building clarity.

Busyness can be a clever disguise for emptiness.
I believe purpose isn’t in doing more, it’s in doing what matters.
Losing that old perspective gave me back my presence. And that felt empowering.

4. The Behaviour of Pleasing Everyone

For most of my early life, I said yes too often. I guess it was also due to my natural personality which was: that I was too nice to turn people down, too kind to reject invitations (even those that didn’t value me properly), too afraid to offend others for fear of losing my “place” in their minds.

So? I ended up saying…

Yes to things I didn’t want to do.
Yes to people who drained me.
Yes to silence when I should’ve spoken up.

It took burnout for me to see that being liked and being loved are not the same thing.
When you spend your life pleasing others, you slowly disappear from your own story.

The Prophet ﷺ never sought to please everyone. His calm, steady focus was on pleasing Allah, even when others misunderstood him. From his example, I learnt that sometimes, peace comes when you stop explaining yourself to others and to simply start aligning yourself with His pleasure.

My favourite proverb relating to this,

رِضَا النَّاسِ غَايَةٌ لَا تُدْرَكُ

“The pleasure of people is a goal that can never be attained.”

Followed with,

وَرِضَا اللهِ غَايَةٌ لَا تُتْرَكُ

“And the pleasure of Allah is a goal that should never be abandoned.”

5. The Goals That Were About Proving, Not Becoming

I had goals that looked noble on paper but were fuelled by insecurity.
I wanted certain types of success, not because I loved the work, but because I feared being forgotten or insignificant.

I had to lose the kind of goals that made me chase validation instead of value.
Peace ultimately came when I began to ask:
What would I still pursue even if no one was watching?

When your goals shift from proving to becoming,
life stops feeling like a performance.
It starts feeling like a prayer.

6. The Friendships That No Longer Fit

This one hurt the most.
Some friendships weren’t toxic, they were just tired. We had grown, but not in the same direction.

Losing them felt like a major disappointment at first.
But soon I realised - peace sometimes means releasing people gently, without resentment.

Prophet Muhammad ﷺ taught us to choose companions who remind us of Allah - those who bring out our best selves, not our loudest fears.
Now I value fewer friendships, but deeper ones.
Ones that feel like home, where I can be myself, and where I am supported in the right way.

7. The Idea That Healing Must Be Fast

I wanted healing to be linear, straightforward.
I thought that if I read enough books, journaled enough nights, prayed enough prayers, I’d arrive quickly - healed and whole.

But healing is not a race. It’s a rhythm.
Some days you’ll take three steps forward, then stumble two back.
And that’s still progress.

Losing the pressure to heal fast allowed me to breathe through the slow.
Peace arrived not as an event, but as a gradual unfolding.

8. The Version of Myself Who Needed Control

For years I believed peace came from control - controlling my schedule, my emotions, even how others saw me.
But control is exhausting, and illusionary.

True peace came when I began practising true tawakkul; trusting Allah after doing my best.

It’s the spiritual balance between effort and surrender.
Between “I’ve done all I can” and “Whatever happens next, will be okay.” The attitude of “Alhamdulillah, regardless of the outcomes.”

Losing the need to control everything gave me room to feel safe in uncertainty.
And that’s when I realised: faith is the calm beneath chaos.

9. The Walls I Built to Avoid Being Hurt Again

Pain changes you.
And if you’re not careful, it convinces you that isolation is safety.
I stopped letting people in not because I stopped caring, but because I was tired of being disappointed.

But numbness is not protection. It’s paralysis.

Even the Prophet ﷺ loved deeply, knowing that love comes with loss.
He grieved. He wept. And he still chose love again.
That, to me, is real strength.

So I began to take down the walls, one brick at a time.
Inner-peace didn’t walk in instantly, but at least the door was open for it to happen.

10. The Silence That Wasn’t Peaceful

There’s a kind of silence that heals, and a kind that hides.
For years, I confused the two.

I thought being quiet meant being calm.
But really, I was just avoiding confrontation, bottling emotions, numbing my soul.

I had to lose that version of silence, you know, the kind that buried the pain instead of naming it. Now, my silence is softer.
It is the pause between chaos and clarity.

Final Reflections!

I used to think peace was something to find.
Now I know it’s something you have to power to personally create. And it begins when you stop holding on to what keeps you restless.

Peace came when I lost what was false.
When I stopped performing calm and started living it.
When I stopped fighting the silence and started hearing what it was trying to say.

Maybe that’s the real secret:

You don’t find peace by doing more.
You find it by losing what never belonged to you in the first place.

Anything from this list that you need to lose as well?
Drop a comment below!

Wishing you the very best - always,

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