How I Invited Comfort Into My Life (and Why It Changed Everything)

If you told my younger self I’d one day be writing about comfort, she’d probably laugh and roll her eyes. I grew up a little rough around the edges a tomboy, always on the go, cracking jokes, and never sitting still long enough to think about things like “peace” or “softness.” Comfort wasn’t something I chased; it was something I thought you earned after you hustled.

But somewhere between growing up, burning out, and finally packing up my life to move out of state, something in me shifted.

Moving away slowed me down. It made me harder to reach and for the first time, that felt good. I wasn’t available to everyone else’s chaos anymore, just my own calm. And once my career started to stabilize, I promised myself one thing: that I’d romanticize the life I already had whether it looked luxury or not.

Now, I find comfort in everything that’s afforded to me, expensive or inexpensive. A glass of wine in silence feels just as sacred as brunch with friends. Fresh sheets hit the same as a designer bag. And when something doesn’t go my way, I still find a way to love that moment too because it’s mine.

For the longest time, I thought comfort was just about clothes soft fabrics, oversized hoodies, and socks that never slide down. And don’t get me wrong, that kind of comfort is still my love language.

But after slowing my life down, I realized comfort had layers. It wasn’t just what I wore; it was how I lived. It was the way I talked to myself, how I protected my peace, and who I allowed into my space.

The more I started romanticizing my life not just the aesthetic, but the feeling the more I noticed that comfort shows up everywhere. In my morning quiet. In the way I cook dinner without rushing. In saying “no” and not explaining why.

I used to think being comfortable meant I was losing my edge that I’d get too soft, too slow. But honestly? I’ve never felt stronger.

I didn’t realize how much of my peace I’d been giving away until I slowed down long enough to protect it.

So if comfort feels far away for you right now, start small. Find it in your morning coffee, in a playlist that makes you feel like yourself again, in saying “no” to what drains you. The more you notice comfort, the more it shows up.

How do you invite comfort into your life? Drop a comment below I’d love to hear what comfort looks like for you.