Years ago, I read a book by Iyanla Vanzant called Peace from Broken Pieces. I was in my early thirties at the time, and while I don't remember every detail of the book, I've never forgotten the title.

It’s one of those titles that just stick with you, even when the content doesn’t.

Iyanla shared some incredibly painful experiences from her life, including childhood abuse, the breakdown of her marriage, and the loss of her daughter. It was a deeply personal account of how the experiences she'd lived through had shaped the woman she'd become.

I remember being consumed by the idea that peace could come from experiences that had caused so much pain in the first place, especially since my 30 year old self had already gone through so much in life. I saw it as encouraging.

Now, at 47, I understand that in a way I couldn't have understood it back then.

I've lived enough life to know that things don't always work out the way we planned, even when we do everything in our power to control the objective.

The truth is sometimes we make decisions that change everything, and other times life makes those decisions for us.

And while I certainly wouldn't choose to repeat some of the experiences I've had, I can look back at them now with a very different perspective I didn't have while I was living through them.

When I decided to end my marriage, I knew I wasn't simply ending a relationship. I was changing the structure of my life and letting go of a future I'd spent years imagining.

Sure there were practical matters to untangle, relationships that would change, and a whole new life to figure out…but I wanted out.

Wanting out doesn’t change the fact for a while I still missed things about being married, particularly to him. My ex-husband and I were friends for over a decade before we dated and eventually got married.

Despite our marriage being short-lived, he wasn't some fly by night love affair that popped into my life and was gone just as quickly. On the day our divorce was final, that was 15 years of knowing him, caring for him, and loving him that ended as well.

So, understandably, there were moments when I felt genuinely sad about how everything had turned out, even though I didn't regret my decision to leave.

Honestly, I felt relieved that my marriage was over AND still grieved the life I thought I was going to have.

Sometimes in the same afternoon.

This is something we don't often acknowledge when it comes to making peace with our lives. We can accept that something needed to happen and still wish the circumstances had been different.

I didn't get married expecting to get divorced. I certainly didn't build a business expecting that one day I'd abruptly close it. There are also relationships I thought would last a lifetime that didn't, and opportunities I was certain would work out that went absolutely nowhere.

And I’m allowed to have feelings about all of those things.

Some disappointments took longer to get over than others and there are decisions I wish I'd made sooner, with a few I probably would have handled differently if I had the chance.

But I can't go back and make them again.

What I can do is look at those experiences with the benefit of everything I know today, acknowledge what happened, and decide how much space I want them to occupy in my life now.

Because I've come to realize that making peace with something doesn't necessarily mean being happy about how it happened.

Sometimes it simply means accepting that it did.

One of the harder parts of navigating difficult experiences is that life doesn't stop while we're trying to figure things out.

The bills still need to be paid. People still need things from us and there are appointments to keep and responsibilities that don't disappear just because we're having a difficult time.

And somehow while all of this is going on, we're supposed to make sense of what's happening.

Listen, I've spent a good portion of my adult life trying to create stability. Despite my external fly by night exterior, I like having a plan, knowing what comes next, and feeling like I have some control over the direction things are going.

Give me an organized calendar and a clear set of priorities, and I'm a happy woman. In fact, I spend an inordinate amount of time planning and exploring all the angles…I just tend to execute at a much higher rate than the average human, despite the risk of failure, so on the outside it may not look like a plan was in play.

Trust me, there was.

That said, the last few years have challenged just about everything I thought I knew about stability.

I've had to make decisions without knowing exactly how they would turn out. Some brought immediate relief, while others created problems I hadn't anticipated. There have been moments when I felt confident about the direction I was going and others when I wondered how on earth I'd gotten myself into a particular situation…AGAIN.

And that's life. Right.

I used to associate peace with getting through the difficult part. Once everything was resolved, I could relax. Once the uncertainty was gone, I could enjoy myself again.

The problem with that approach is that there's always something else.

You finally resolve one issue, and another one needs your attention. A plan you've spent months putting together changes because of something completely outside your control.

And one day you wake up, look around and realize that you've spent years waiting for your life to settle down.

I'm no longer interested in doing that.

Sure, I still want things to work out. I still make plans and do everything I reasonably can to create the life I want.

But I also want to enjoy the life I have while I'm building it.

Even when there are things I haven't resolved.

Especially then.

One of the things I've been learning is that peace has a lot to do with how much willing I am to accept the reality of my life.

Without comparing it to the one I wish I had or the one I thought I'd have by this age.

But the actual life I'm living. Which includes the decisions I've made and the consequences that came with them.

I've also learned to give myself a little more grace for the things I didn't know ten or fifteen years ago.

And while I believe in taking responsibility for my choices, I don't see much value in spending the rest of my life punishing myself for not knowing things I hadn't yet learned or repeating them once I did.

That too, is part of the human experience, repetition of life’s indelible lessons.

I've also become more comfortable allowing things to be what they are.

A relationship can have been meaningful even if it didn't last. A business can have been successful even if it eventually closed. A decision can have been the right one even if the outcome was difficult.

I don't need to rewrite those experiences to make them easier to live with.

Nor do I need to turn every painful thing that happened into some grand lesson about why it was supposed to happen.

Some things were simply hard, and while I would have preferred a different experience, those things are part of my life, too.

Now when I think about the woman I am today, I can see how much my perspective has changed because of what I've experienced.

I'm more discerning about where I spend my time. I'm more willing to make difficult decisions when they're necessary, and I have a much greater appreciation for the ordinary days when nothing particularly exciting is happening. That goodness for those. More of them please and thank you.

I also trust myself more.

Not because I believe I'll always make the right decision, but because I've made enough difficult ones to know I can figure out what to do when things don't go according to plan.

And that gives me a sense of peace I didn't have when I was younger.

At 47, there is still so much I want to experience.

I have places I want to go, experiences I want to have and memories I determined to create. There are also parts of myself I'm still getting to know, and I'm genuinely excited about the woman I'm becoming.

I refuse to carry every disappointment from my past into those experiences, because I want to be able to appreciate what I've lived through without feeling obligated to keep living there.

Whatever has happened up to this point, I still have a life to live.

And I intend to ride this sh*t until the wheels fall off.

This week, I want you to think about something you've had a difficult time making peace with.

It could be a decision you regret, a relationship that ended, or an experience that changed the direction of your life.

What part of that experience are you still struggling to accept?

And instead of our usual Sunday Reset Reflection, I've created a video to offer you a little encouragement as you navigate the difficult seasons of your life.

It's called You've Been Through a Lot, But There's Still So Much Life to Live, and I hope it reminds you that whatever you've experienced, there's still so much ahead of you to look forward to.

Watch This Week's Video

It's been about sixteen years since I first read Peace from Broken Pieces, and I find it interesting that the title has stayed with me all this time.

Back then, I was reading about a woman who had lived through some extraordinarily difficult experiences and was trying to understand how she'd found her way through them.

Today, I have a few broken pieces of my own.

And while I can't say I've made peace with every single thing that's happened in my life, I've made peace with enough of it to know that I can still have a beautiful life.

In fact, I already do.

Yes, there are things I'd change if I could, and plenty of things I'm still figuring out. But I'm grateful for the life I've lived, the woman I've become, and the opportunity to keep going.

I hope you'll find that kind of peace in your own life, too.

Donteacia 💛