Learning to Look Within: Finding Peace, Presence, and Healing in Everyday Moments

When I sat down with Dr. Makeba Morgan Hill for this week’s episode of Normalize The Conversation, one thing she said really stayed with me: if you look within, you will never be without.

And I realized how often I’ve looked everywhere but within. I thought peace would come from checking boxes—achievements, relationships, social approval. I thought filling every second with doing would finally fill the emptiness. I used to wear my productivity like a badge of honor, as if exhaustion was proof of worth. Even today, surrounded by people or standing in my “highest moments,” I can sometimes feel completely alone. That kind of loneliness makes the depression heavier.

After my suicide attempts and losing my uncle, being alone with myself felt unbearable. The silence was suffocating. The grief, fear, and shame were so loud I thought I would drown in them. For years, I believed I deserved to stay stuck in that pain, like punishing myself was strength. But really, I was terrified to face what was inside.

Even now, presence doesn’t come naturally. My brain is a marathoner—it loves running laps around the past or sprinting toward the future. Breathing? Forgetting. Noticing what’s right in front of me? Rare. People who know me would laugh and say, “Yeah, she’s always on email.” They’re not wrong. Recently, I met someone I admired growing up, and instead of soaking it in, my first thought was, “How can I be productive here?” Not present. Productive.

But slowly, I’m learning to come back to myself. It’s clumsy, it’s imperfect, and it’s daily work.

Presence doesn’t happen by accident—it happens by practice.

One of my favorite anchors is my happiness jar. Every night, I write down one to three things that made me smile. Some days it’s small—like a text from a friend or a kiss from my dog. Other days it’s bigger—the conversation I really needed, a small win in my work, or a moment I never thought I’d get to have. Dropping those slips of paper into the jar teaches me that joy is never gone, just sometimes hidden. And on tough days, pulling out one of those little reminders feels like proof: even when life is heavy, there’s always light.

Joy doesn’t disappear; it just waits for us to notice it.

I’ve also started taking intentional walks. Just stepping outside, feeling the sun on my skin, listening to the birds, watching butterflies dance around me. And sometimes, when my mind is really loud, I’ll walk ten miles in a day. It’s my version of “counting to ten”—my way of stepping back, getting out of my head, and remembering I’m still here. It sounds simple, but it grounds me.

It reminds me:

Life is happening right now, not in my head.

And then there are the lessons in patience. Makeba reminded me that even delays can have meaning. Like when a flight gets pushed back—I would just spiral. I spent an entire year flying across the country twice a week, and every delay felt unbearable. I’d get frustrated, convincing myself I was a victim of circumstances I couldn’t control. Now I wonder—what if the delay was keeping me safe? What if it’s opening a door for me to meet someone? Or what if it’s just the universe gifting me an extra moment to breathe? Worrying doesn’t change anything. It just ruins the present moment. So now when a flight is delayed, I take a deep breath and remind myself: I am exactly where I need to be.

Patience with myself, though—that’s the hardest. For so long, I treated healing like a checklist. As if I could just cross off “grief” and be done. But healing isn’t a race. It’s messy. It’s stumbling forward, slipping backward, and crying on the floor because you don’t know if you’re making progress at all. I’ve had to learn to talk to myself the way I would to someone I love—with softness, with patience, with compassion.

You don’t have to chase peace. You just have to allow it.

Makeba also shared about The Four Agreements, a book I love and have read more than once. When she mentioned it, I was reminded of how powerful those teachings are and how I can keep reimplementing them in my life. In fact, her words encouraged me to pick it back up again this past May.

Two of the agreements landed deeply with me. The first was Don’t take things personally. For years, I carried words people said to me like they were proof of my worth. If someone was disappointed or critical, I made it my identity. But what they say is about them, not me. Letting go of that weight has been freeing. Now, when I feel myself spiraling, I remind myself: their words don’t define me, my truth does.

The second was Be impeccable with your word. For me, this isn’t just about how I talk to others; it’s how I talk to myself. I used to say yes to everything, even when I meant no, because I thought that’s what made me valuable. All it really did was leave me drained and resentful. Learning to say no with love has been one of the hardest and most liberating lessons. Being impeccable with my word now means honoring my boundaries and speaking to myself with kindness, not cruelty. The words we choose become the world we live in.

These practices haven’t made my life perfect. I still spiral in comparison. I still overthink. I still fight my own mind. But now I have ways back. A happiness jar. A grounding walk. A pause to breathe. And when I come back to myself, I remember the truth: I am enough. I am whole. I am alive.

So here’s my invitation for you: Write down one thing that made you smile today. Step outside and feel the air on your skin. Notice the tiny, beautiful things you usually overlook. Because peace isn’t out there, it’s already inside you, waiting for you to slow down, look within, and trust it’s there.

Healing Through Spirituality: Meditation, Trust, and Taking Action with Makeba Morgan Hill is available now on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and wherever you listen.