This year taught me that peace doesn’t come from control — but from letting go. | by Raissa zua | Sep, 2025

As 2025 draws to a close, I find myself looking back on a year that has been nothing short of transformative. It wasn’t the kind of transformation you read about in success stories or motivational books. It wasn’t glamorous. It was raw, messy, and at times deeply painful.

This year taught me about loss, confusion, regret, acceptance — and, finally, peace. It was the year I realized how easily people take you for granted: your friendship, your love, your effort. For so long, I kept trying to hold on, to stay in people’s lives, to be there for them. But at some point, I realized something important: if the effort isn’t mutual, it’s not worth it.

This was the year I experienced betrayal from people I once called dear friend. I cried until I felt empty. And then, somehow, I stopped crying and moved on.

This was also the year I ran out of energy to fight. The year where everything began to feel empty. I started to ask myself the hard questions:

What am I doing here?

What does success even mean to me?

I began creating my own definition of success. For the first time, I no longer felt the urge to chase places, people, or things. But as soon as I settled into that new space, another question surfaced: Is this really what I want?

Honestly, I don’t know anymore.

And yet, in that not-knowing, I found something unexpected. The moment I remembered that Allah plans everything for me, I decided to surrender. To let go.

It’s hard to accept being in the back seat of your own life, watching someone else drive — even if that “someone” is God. We like to be in control. We like to believe we know where we’re going. But there is a quiet, inexplicable peace that comes with surrendering to something greater than yourself.

It’s not the kind of peace you can photograph or post online. It’s not loud or dramatic. It just arrives — soft, steady, and sure — like a deep breath after a storm.

And maybe that’s what this year has really been about. Not loss. Not confusion. Not even regret. But the slow, reluctant discovery of peace.