when softness becomes NOTICEABLe
A few weeks ago, I spent a day in the city with my family. Just a simple family day. Walking around. Popping into places. Being outside together. Nothing fancy. No big plans. But what surprised me wasn’t the day itself. It was how my body responded to it. The noise. The crowds. The constant movement. Having to consider my family. People rushing, bumping, filling every inch of space.
At one point, my cousin and I looked at each other and gave each other the side eye. Not because anything was wrong, but because we were genuinely overwhelmed. Tired. Overstimulated. Ready to go home. And that’s when it became clear to me, we’ve been living the softest life without even realizing it.
Not in the way the internet usually talks about softness. Not luxury for luxury’s sake. But in the way our nervous systems have grown accustomed to peace. To quieter days. To spaciousness. To not being in survival mode all the time. The chaos didn’t feel exciting. It felt loud. The pace didn’t feel energizing. It felt draining.
And instead of judging that, I felt grateful. There was a time when that level of stimulation felt normal. Even necessary. When constant movement, constant doing, constant noise felt like proof of life. Proof of productivity. Proof that we were “OUTSIDEEEEE”.
But growth changes your tolerance. When your life becomes softer, chaos stops feeling familiar. And that isn’t weakness. It’s information. It’s your body saying, this isn’t where I live anymore. That day turned into a deeper reflection for me. A reminder that softness isn’t something you perform. It’s something you slowly acclimate to. And once you do, your body doesn’t want to go back.
It also became a moment of gratitude. Gratitude for slower mornings. For intentional schedules. For space to breathe. For relationships that don’t require constant proving. For a life that feels regulated instead of rushed. The soft life, at least for me, isn’t about avoiding the world. It’s about being aware of how the world affects me and choosing accordingly.
It’s noticing people’s behaviors without feeling the need to correct them. Seeing patterns without rushing to confront them. Observing energy without immediately responding to it. Understanding that not everything requires your reaction, your explanation, or your emotional labor.
There was a time when I felt the need to defend or fix misunderstandings in real time. But softness taught me something different. It taught me that awareness doesn’t always call for action. Sometimes it just calls for discernment.
Now, I pay attention to how people move. How spaces feel. How conversations land in my body. I let information reveal itself instead of forcing outcomes. And from that place, I choose where to lean in and where to step back. Softness isn’t passivity. It’s self-trust.
It’s knowing that I don’t have to harden myself or over-communicate to navigate the world. I just have to stay present enough to notice what nourishes me and what quietly drains me, then move accordingly.
It’s discerning when to step in and when to step back. When to participate and when to go home early without an explanation. When to say yes and when to protect my peace and say no. That family day made me appreciate how far I’ve come. Sometimes you don’t realize how much your life has softened until you’re briefly reintroduced to what you’ve outgrown.
And in those moments, I don’t feel disconnected from the world. I feel deeply connected to myself.