When Life Feels Like a Nightmare: Reclaiming Peace and Emotional Freedom
There are days—sometimes even weeks—when it feels like life is a storm you can’t escape. For me, it often starts quietly, almost imperceptibly: a slight tension in my chest, a flutter in my stomach when someone looks at me a certain way, or a subtle change in someone’s mood that my mind instantly interprets as disappointment. From there, my thoughts spiral. I ruminate. I replay conversations. And by the time the day ends, my body feels like it’s been running a marathon I didn’t sign up for.
Last night, for example, I had one of those dreams that made me wake up in a panic. It was vivid, dark, and relentless—a massive, hairy black cat with coal black, shiny eyes hunting me. I woke myself up, drenched in sweat, heart pounding. Even as I sat on the edge of the bed, grounding myself with slow breaths, I could feel my body replaying the tension from the dream. I could almost hear my mind saying, “See? You’re never safe. You have to be on guard.”
It’s moments like these that remind me how deeply chronic stress can take over your life. For years, I’ve carried tension—anxiety about work, about people, about expectations. And for me, a lot of that anxiety comes from taking other people’s emotions personally. I notice when someone is frustrated or moody, and my brain instantly interprets it as my fault. Then my whole day can shift based on that perception. I’ve learned that I’m not alone in this; sensitive, empathetic people often feel like emotional barometers for everyone around them. But that doesn’t make it any easier when it happens to you day after day.
This pattern has affected my sleep, my focus, and even my relationships. Nightmares and vivid dreams aren’t just stories your brain tells; they’re your body processing stress it hasn’t been able to release during the day. And when your mind doesn’t fully rest, it’s impossible to feel grounded and calm when you wake.
I’ve had to learn the hard way that caring about myself is not selfish. It doesn’t mean shutting down, avoiding people, or becoming cold and distant. It means setting emotional boundaries and giving myself permission to protect my peace. Here’s what I’ve learned works:
1. Label the moment
When I notice someone’s mood shift and my mind starts spiraling, I silently remind myself: “This is their emotion. It is not necessarily about me.” It’s simple, but this small act of labeling creates space between their reaction and my anxiety.
2. Ground your body
Tension is stored in the body, so when I feel triggered, I take slow, steady breaths and notice my feet on the floor, my shoulders relaxing, my chest softening. Even thirty seconds of grounding can prevent my thoughts from spiraling out of control.
3. Set mental boundaries
I’ve learned to tell myself: “I can be kind and present, but I do not have to absorb this as my responsibility.” I imagine it like an invisible shield. I can interact, respond politely, and stay engaged without letting someone else’s emotions hijack my day.
4. Protect your sleep
Before bed, I take intentional steps to signal safety to my brain: a quiet, dimly lit space, soft music, or a few minutes of journaling to release my thoughts. When a nightmare does strike, I remind myself I’m awake, I’m safe, and the story is over. I often visualize a calm scene, something peaceful and neutral, to give my mind a gentle reset.
5. Small daily acts of self-prioritization
I practice saying “no” when I need to, stepping away when I feel overwhelmed, or choosing my own schedule without guilt. These may seem like tiny acts, but they are revolutionary in retraining my mind to respect my boundaries.
I share this because I know I’m not alone. So many people are living with chronic tension, vivid dreams, and anxiety triggered by others’ moods. And it’s easy to feel like you’re doing something wrong, like you should just toughen up, stop caring, and harden yourself. But true emotional freedom isn’t about shutting down—it’s about protecting your energy, honoring your needs, and learning that other people’s emotions are theirs to manage.
For me, part of reclaiming peace also means building a life where I can have control—financial, emotional, and physical. I dream of running my own business, working from anywhere, and being able to move or start over without fear of being trapped by others’ moods, expectations, or unpredictability. That’s not just ambition; it’s a way to preserve my sanity and my heart.
Every small step matters. Labeling a mood, breathing through tension, visualizing calm, asserting a boundary—they all add up. Over time, they create a life where I can finally feel safe in my own skin, even when the world around me isn’t calm. And that is a freedom everyone deserves—the freedom to sleep without fear, to interact without spiraling anxiety, and to live with dignity and peace.
We all have storms inside us, but we don’t have to let them run the show. You can care about yourself first, protect your energy, and build a life where your peace matters as much as anyone else’s.
Until next time,
Eimi Mishel
