The Quiet Freedom of No Longer Performing

There is a very special freedom in not feeling the need to prove anything.

As children, we played at entertainment almost all the time, it felt like. That was about attention, validation, and adoration. This, as we chased titles, likes, compliments, and love that was conditional, at times. What we longed for was for other people to recognize us, to find us attractive, to call us ''ambitious,'' ''gifted,'' ''successful,'' ''pretty.''

We would climb them invisible ladders, filter our social media moments, even laugh in circles we didn't feel strong enough to truly carry with us, work long hours, sign up for discipleship that crocheted like a commitment we'd rather not…wear that weren't us, and chuckle at jokes we didn't get because we wanted to belong, be wanted to be wanted, to not be the last one picked holding the bags of loose ends.

Maybe we achieved this, at least for a little bit.

But most importantly, we learn that serenity doesn't come from the show or the applause that follows our performance, but the quiet in between.

This process takes time. It only takes place after heartbreak, meaningless jobs, and realizing that even if you win, some people will never admit you won. It plays out after the pursuit of validation has left you feeling empty. That is when the shift occurs.

You come to realize that you can actually ignore most opinions you encounter. You don't have to be the one who wears the best new clothes or shouts the loudest. You don't have to go to something just because you're invited. Because those who are just watching and judging probably won't anyway.

The pace of life slows down, becomes quieter, and more authentic.

You start doing things for yourself, not for show, but because they make you happy. A book is read ultimately for that which is learned from it, not for what can be quoted. You walk, and there's no desire to share it on social media. You serve up food that reminds them of home, even if it looks disgusting. You are wearing comfortable rather than glamorous clothes. You try, not for the sake of validation, but because you want a life that's authentically your own.

Your ability to love grows. You no longer play games, chase love, or plead to be picked. You bring yourself fully, and if that isn't enough for someone, you let them go without grudge. You're done feeling like you have to work for what should be effortlessly provided.

You forgive yourself for bad decisions already made and stop analyzing every decision you've made. You know you did the best with what you knew when you were young, and that is good enough.

To those who used to make you feel small, but then disappointed. You grieve their loss, and then you heal. Sometimes you realize their leaving gives you peace.

And what winning is changes for you. It is no longer applause and external validation, but the tranquility your soul feels every morning, the honesty of your smile, and the way you love yourself.

This freedom is not flashy, it doesn't demand the spotlight, yet it changes everything.

It's not about stepping into a place and finding out who you are. It's not that you should ''try and be the person'' of whom you believe you must strive to be. It's living without having to explain every move to a fickle audience.

It embodies peace.

There are probably better definitions for the ordeal of coming of age than the bill-paying, tax-filing business-as-usual, but there are worse ones, too.

You've achieved plenty, you really have. You have gone through your darkest days and have come, more or less, tried and tested.

All that I am now is to be.

That provides a sort of freedom that's deep.

And that is the most beautiful part of all.