Inner peace instead of adrenaline

Last week was one that really got me thinking.

It was a week of skirts, short skirts—okay, very short skirts.

I found myself humming to myself, strolling lightly through my apartment and later through my floors at the bank, feeling a sense of inner contentment and peace for no particular reason.

It definitely wasn't work; it was—I'll refrain from using the adjectives that come to mind—like it has been so often lately. Then I looked at the pictures I'd taken, and I was satisfied. I was satisfied with the pictures, and I saw that I looked satisfied in them. Yes, I know my shortcomings, which are pointed out to me often enough on social media, and yes, I'd like to change one thing or another—but—I'm satisfied. That's something I never said about pictures from my old life. I was always dissatisfied with my photos.

I often read that my contentment shines through in my photos, and this week I felt it unusually strongly myself. It would be absolutely wrong to say that I haven't had happy and contented times in the past. That wouldn't do justice to my life or the people in it. But this inner peace, this inner balance—I can't recall ever experiencing it so clearly.

To get back to the skirts—okay, very short skirts. I'm past the point where wearing a skirt or dress to my bank feels unusual. But I remembered times when much longer skirts increased my nervousness and I could feel the adrenaline pumping. I felt no nervousness, no restlessness—just an incredibly good feeling. It sounds cliché, but I was at peace with myself. I moved through Frankfurt and the bank with an ease and self-assurance that made me feel, or rather, float.

The "WOW, you look amazing!" from a colleague was truly the icing on the cake (even though it seemed to me that he was a little embarrassed by his spontaneous exclamation afterward—I certainly wasn't).

This feeling of inner peace was and is so incredibly beautiful; I doubt anyone can truly imagine it.

Thanks for following and see you soon!

Yours, Nicole