choose peace

Frustration Is an Invitation You Don’t Have to Accept

We all know the feeling—traffic that doesn’t move, a conversation that goes sideways, a plan that unravels in real time. Frustration builds, and before you know it, you’re simmering in anger, irritation, or resentment.

But here’s the truth that changed everything for me: frustration is always self-induced.

The outside world can invite us to be upset, yes—but we are the ones who accept the invitation.

When I first heard this idea, I bristled. Surely the rude driver, the unfair boss, the inattentive friend—they were the source of my frustration. But as I dug deeper, I realized the common denominator in every moment of anger was me. I was the one choosing to hold onto the irritation, the one letting it hijack my energy, the one letting the external world dictate my internal peace.

And that was the moment I understood: I can’t always control what happens, but I can always control whether or not I RSVP to frustration’s invitation.

The Hidden Cost of Accepting the Invitation

Frustration feels powerful in the moment. It gives us something to cling to, a sense of being “right,” or even righteous. But that power is fleeting, and the cost is high.

Every time we accept frustration’s invitation, we:

  • Drain our energy on things that don’t serve us.
  • Poison our mood, often for hours or days after the fact.
  • Damage relationships by reacting instead of responding.
  • Distract ourselves from solutions by obsessing over problems.

When I look back at my own life, I see how many days I lost this way—days spent stewing instead of living, days consumed by anger that did nothing but make me miserable. And all of it was preventable.

The truth? Frustration doesn’t come from what happened. It comes from the story we tell ourselves about what happened.

Pause Before You RSVP

The good news is that frustration is optional. Just because you’re invited doesn’t mean you have to attend.

Here’s what I practice today:

  1. Notice the rise. That heat in my chest, that quickening of my thoughts—I know frustration is knocking.
  2. Ask: Is this worth my peace? Nine times out of ten, the answer is no.
  3. Choose my response. Instead of spiraling, I take a breath. Sometimes I literally step away. Sometimes I laugh at how small the trigger really is. Sometimes I pray.
  4. Reframe. Instead of “Why is this happening to me?” I ask, “What is this showing me?” That shift turns frustration into information.

When I don’t RSVP to the invitation, I keep my power. I keep my peace. And I remember: the world doesn’t get to run my emotions—I do.

Frustration Reveals What We Value

Here’s the part most people miss: frustration isn’t all bad. It’s actually a teacher, if we’re willing to listen.

Frustration shows us what matters to us, what we expect, what boundaries may need adjusting. For example:

  • If traffic frustrates me, maybe it’s not about the cars—it’s about my lack of preparation or my need for control.
  • If someone interrupts me and I feel rage, maybe it’s pointing me to a wound around not feeling heard.
  • If I’m furious that a plan changed, maybe it’s about my deeper need for certainty and security.

When I stop blaming the outside world and start looking inward, frustration becomes less of a punishment and more of a flashlight.

It shines a light on the gap between my expectations and reality—and that’s where my work begins.

Choosing Peace Over Frustration

It’s not about denying your feelings. It’s about remembering that frustration is optional. You always have another choice:

  • You can let go. Not everything deserves a reaction.
  • You can laugh. Humor disarms frustration in a heartbeat.
  • You can learn. Ask what this moment is teaching you.
  • You can move on. Protect your energy by refusing to give it away.

When I practice this, I notice how much lighter my days feel. I have more energy for the things that actually matter. And maybe most importantly, I stop letting other people’s behavior write the story of my day.

Because at the end of the day, frustration is a story. And you get to decide whether or not you keep telling it.

Frustration Will Knock Again—Be Ready

Don’t get me wrong—I still get frustrated. I’m human. But now, instead of automatically reacting, I pause and ask myself:

Am I about to accept an invitation to frustration? Or am I going to choose peace instead?

That moment of awareness has changed my life. It’s not always easy, but it’s always worth it.

Frustration may knock, but peace is the one I let in.

SLAY Reflection

  1. What situations frustrate you most often?
  2. What expectations lie beneath that frustration?
  3. Can you trace your frustration back to an old story, wound, or belief?
  4. How does your day feel different when you choose not to engage with frustration?
  5. What’s one way you can practice pausing before accepting frustration’s “invitation” this week?

S – Stop and notice when frustration rises
L – Let go of the need to control what you can’t
A – Align your response with peace, not anger
Y – Yield to wisdom, not to the story frustration tells

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What’s one frustration you’ve learned to stop accepting—and how did it free you?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who feels constantly hijacked by frustration, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a reminder that peace is always a choice.

Their Storm, Not Your Forecast

There’s a strange pressure to get swept up in someone else’s chaos. To absorb their anger, defend against their projections, or even try to fix what they refuse to face. Especially if you’re a deeply empathetic person, it can be hard to remember:

Not every storm requires your umbrella.

Just because someone is bringing drama, blame, or emotional thunder into the room doesn’t mean you have to get soaked.

It might sound harsh, but not every meltdown, every mood, or every mess is yours to carry.

Let’s be real—some people thrive in the whirlwind. They create it. They stir up tension, throw lightning bolts, and wait to see who gets scorched. And if you’re not careful, you’ll mistake their storm for your reality.

You’re Not the Weather Channel

Here’s the thing: just because they’re forecasting doom doesn’t mean you have to build an ark. We can love people, support people, and still refuse to be pulled under by their emotional riptide.

Your peace isn’t up for negotiation.

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is this: if someone is committed to chaos, no amount of calm you bring will change them. You don’t have to match their energy, explain yourself endlessly, or prove your worth in the face of their projection.

Your job is to stay grounded in your truth.

People will accuse you of being cold, distant, or selfish when you refuse to engage in their drama. Let them. You’re not required to participate in every emotional argument you’re invited to.

Calm Isn’t Weak—It’s Wise

Some storms are loud. Others are subtle. But all of them share one trait: they pull you away from your center. When you stay calm in the face of emotional turbulence, you’re not being passive—you’re being powerful.

Calm is a boundary.

It says: “I’m not going to argue with someone who’s not listening. I’m not going to internalize someone else’s pain. I’m not going to let your storm become my identity.”

This doesn’t mean you don’t care. It means you care enough about yourself to know the difference between being present and being consumed.

Detach Without Guilt

If you’ve ever grown up in dysfunction, chaos might feel familiar—even comfortable. You may have learned to overfunction, to fix, to please, to manage the emotions of others so things wouldn’t blow up. But that’s not your role anymore.

You can walk away. You can say, “This isn’t mine.” You can let someone rage, spiral, or stew without stepping into the storm.

Because here’s the truth: the storm isn’t personal. Even if it’s aimed at you, it’s not really about you. It’s about their unhealed pain. Their fear. Their need for control.

You didn’t cause it, and you don’t have to catch it.

Protect Your Inner Weather

Boundaries aren’t walls, they’re windows. They let in light and fresh air, but they keep out the hail. When you feel that pull to jump into someone else’s chaos, pause and ask:

  • Is this really mine?
  • What happens if I don’t respond?
  • What would it look like to stay rooted in my calm?

Because that’s the goal: to be so in tune with your own emotional forecast that someone else’s storm can roll through without ever touching your peace.

Let them weather it. You’ve got sunshine to protect.

SLAY Reflection

  1. Have you ever mistaken someone else’s storm as your responsibility to fix?
  2. What patterns from your past make chaos feel familiar or expected?
  3. When was the last time you stayed calm in a moment of drama—and how did that feel?
  4. What’s one situation right now where you can say, “This isn’t mine”?
  5. How can you strengthen your boundaries to protect your inner peace?

S – Step away from unnecessary emotional storms
L – Let go of the need to fix what isn’t yours
A – Acknowledge your limits with compassion
Y – Yield to peace, not pressure

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What’s one way you’ve protected your peace by not engaging in someone else’s storm?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s always caught in the swirl of someone else’s drama, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a reminder that peace is a choice.