On Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, once the fundamental needs for food, water, oxygen, shelter, clothing & sleep have been met, psychological and physical safety and security become a priority. This explicitly includes both protection from danger and peace of mind, ie freedom from fear, anxiety and chaos. There is only so long a person can live under constant threat of physical, emotional or psychological harm before our body and mind start to break down. Peace is vital for both our physical and mental health and wellbeing.

Peace, for me, has various components. Because of my sensory processing sensitivity I can find noise, both acute and background, physically painful. One of the many reasons I left my previous house was because I lived next door to a farm and the day started at 5.15am with the farm dog barking its head off, which used to ricochet off the walls of my bedroom almost like it was in there with me. It continued to bark on and off all day, intermingled with shouts for it to shut up, the rev of tractor engines, the loud grating throttle of quad bikes and regular days spent listening to cows moo their heads off in distress while giving birth. For my overly sensitive central nervous system it was like living with Chinese water torture.

It was my birthday this week and I lay in bed shortly after waking remembering all the birthdays spent with my parents. I still miss my Mum, who used to make a big fuss of me and buy me lots of lovely gifts to open, but I miss less the piano wire tension which pervaded our home, wondering how drunk Mum would be when I arrived or what mood her husband would be in, the constant irritable bickering between them and my tactful mediation to stop it from escalating into a full blown row. The celebration of my birth was never truly about me and that I no longer have to spend any part of my birthday inside a quiet war zone brings such peace.

I spent my birthday the year before last in tears, with half my face paralysed, unable to blink (can’t even describe the pain of that), drinking through a straw, still reeling from just having been diagnosed with a brain tumour and having been dumped 5 days before my special day by my boyfriend because, and I quote, “sex isn’t as good as usual”. No shit Sherlock. I don’t miss the chaotic, cold and cruel behaviour of my ex for one second of any day and revelled in the beautiful peace and kindness I was shown by those who love me this year.

It’s early Saturday morning and I’m typing this post from my bed. The house, apart from quiet snuffling beside me, is completely silent and the only sound is autumn wind occasionally battering the outside walls. I’m just feet away from patio doors and drank my morning brew watching birds alight on the feeders in the garden, squabbling over who gets what. The cut grass of the meadow behind is luminous green in the early morning sun, surrounded by trees already turning yellow gold. The juvenile Buzzard, whose haunting cries have kept me company for several weeks now, has left the protection of his favourite tree branch and silently glides overhead on the current.

No coping with volatile moods, my stomach in knots. No drunken gibberish, self-absorption or childish tantrums. No wondering if I’m ‘too much’ or ‘not enough’ and will be left for someone ‘better’. No silent treatments, no criticisms of how I dress or how I act or how I speak. Just love, acceptance, care, joy, reciprocity and deep gratitude for my beautiful, peaceful life which I never take for granted. Soul food.