Ava had been told so many times to "just relax." It seemed like everyone had advice on how to quiet her mind: meditate, breathe deeply, listen to calming music. But for her, living with schizophrenia, relaxation didn’t come easily. Her mind was a constant swirl of thoughts and sounds, some real, some imagined. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to relax—she desperately did—but forcing herself to unwind only made things worse.
There were days when the voices were louder, making her feel on edge. Her anxiety would spike, and every attempt at “relaxation” felt like trying to hold back a storm. She’d sit down with a cup of tea, close her eyes, and tell herself to let go, but nothing happened. If anything, the tension in her body grew stronger, her mind racing even faster. She’d become frustrated, feeling like she was failing at something as simple as relaxing. The more she forced it, the worse things seemed to get.
One particularly difficult evening, after an exhausting day of trying to follow everyone's advice, Ava found herself lying on the couch, her body heavy with defeat. The voices were there, chattering in the background, and her anxiety was at its peak. She felt like she’d lost control, like she would never find peace. But in that moment, something shifted. She was too tired to try anymore, too worn out to keep fighting her mind. So, she stopped trying.
She didn’t force herself to relax; she simply allowed herself to be.
As she lay there, not demanding anything of herself, Ava noticed the voices began to fade—not completely, but just enough. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. She felt her breathing slow naturally, without having to control it. She wasn’t pushing away her thoughts, wasn’t telling herself to calm down. Instead, she let her mind do what it wanted, without judgment or pressure. And in that space, a tiny bit of calm found its way in.
Over the next few weeks, Ava stopped trying so hard to relax. She stopped feeling like she had to force peace upon herself every time she felt anxious or overwhelmed. When the bad days came, she let them come, knowing they wouldn’t last forever. She accepted that not every moment had to be perfectly calm. The important thing was that she was still here, still standing.
Gradually, she noticed something remarkable: the good days started coming more often. At first, they were small moments—an afternoon without the voices, a morning where her anxiety stayed low. Then, as the weeks went by, these moments stretched longer. She didn’t realize it at first, but the bad days weren’t as frequent, and when they did come, they weren’t as overwhelming. She was getting better at riding through them, knowing the storm would pass.
The voices, once a constant and overwhelming presence, began to feel like background noise she could ignore. They weren’t as loud, and her anxious thoughts weren’t as sharp. She didn’t have to force herself to relax anymore; it just happened naturally, little by little. When she let go of the need for control, her body and mind found their own way to calm down.
One sunny afternoon, Ava sat on her balcony, sipping tea. The world outside seemed brighter, more peaceful. She realized that she hadn’t heard the voices for a couple of days now, and it wasn’t something she had to work for—it had just happened. She smiled, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. And better was enough.
Ava had learned something valuable in her journey: sometimes, trying too hard to control her mind only made things worse. But when she allowed herself to be as she was, without forcing relaxation or peace, her body found its balance on its own. The bad days didn’t last forever, and the good days were coming more often now. She knew there would still be hard times, but she no longer feared them. She trusted that, with time, things would get better.
And they had.
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