Liberate Yourself from the Lie That Chaos Is Normal

“When you're born in a burning house, you think the whole world is on fire. But it's not.” — Richard Kadrey

If your childhood was filled with yelling, silence, slammed doors, unpredictable moods, or walking on eggshells, you might have grown up thinking that kind of instability was just… life. Maybe you didn’t call it chaos—maybe you just called it home.

But now, as an adult, you find yourself confusing peace with boredom. You feel restless when things are calm. You sabotage stillness. You brace for impact even when nothing’s wrong.

That’s not because you’re broken. It’s because you were taught that crisis is normal—and safety is suspicious.

The good news? That story can be unlearned.

The Myth of “Normal”

We don’t just inherit eye color or last names—we inherit emotional blueprints. If you were raised in a home where love came with fear, silence meant punishment, or safety was always temporary, your nervous system learned to live in defense mode.

What we grow up with becomes our definition of “normal,” even when it’s damaging. Chaos doesn’t always look dramatic—it can be subtle. Emotional inconsistency. A lack of affection. Feeling invisible unless something goes wrong. And when that’s your norm, peace feels foreign. Suspicious. Even unsafe.

The Body Remembers

Even long after you leave the burning house, your body might still smell smoke. That’s the nature of trauma—it doesn’t just live in your mind. It lives in your nervous system.

You might find yourself overreacting to minor triggers, always scanning for danger, or struggling to relax even in safe environments. Not because you’re dramatic—but because your body was conditioned to survive, not to rest.

This isn’t a personality flaw. It’s a protective adaptation. And it can be rewired.

The Cost of Carrying the Fire

When chaos is your baseline, you might:

• Feel drawn to relationships that are emotionally unstable.

• Create unnecessary conflict to feel “something.”

• Overcommit, overwork, overgive—because being still feels threatening.

• Avoid calm people or peaceful moments, assuming they’re too good to last.

You might even confuse adrenaline with love. Urgency with importance. Struggle with value.

But just because it’s familiar doesn’t mean it’s right for you. Or that it’s all you deserve.

Reclaiming Peace as Your New Normal

Let’s be clear: peace is not weakness. Peace is powerful. It’s a practice of choosing yourself—over and over.

It’s learning to trust slowness. To believe that good things don’t always come with strings. To sit in stillness without guilt, and to know that you don’t need to be in crisis to be cared for.

Healing means reminding your body: it’s safe now. You don’t have to earn rest. You don’t have to chase chaos to feel alive.

Liberation Isn’t Loud

Not all freedom is fiery. Sometimes liberation looks like:

• Taking a nap without apologizing.

• Saying no without explaining.

• Choosing the calm partner.

• Ending the fight before it begins.

• Enjoying your life without waiting for it to fall apart.

Healing isn’t always dramatic. Sometimes it’s just not freaking out in the exact same situation that used to wreck you.

Journal Prompts

• What did “normal” look like in my childhood home?

• When things are calm, do I feel safe—or on edge? Why?

• What parts of me believe I have to earn peace through suffering?

• What would it feel like to trust calm? To rest? To be safe?

Final Note:

Just because you were born in a burning house doesn’t mean you have to live your life on fire.

You get to rebuild. You get to rest. You get to stop running.

And peace? It’s not a fantasy. It’s your birthright.

If this post spoke to you—or you think someone in your life might need to hear it—please feel free to forward it. My goal is to help others heal, one liberated truth at a time.

In Liberation,

Luz