5/21/24

Peace is a hard thing to protect. In a time in our lives when it feels as though the expectation is to age as quickly as possible, the center of my attention is focused on how I can age in a way that doesn't make sharp objects a liability for me to be around. I've had my phases in which I attempt to experience new things, as one is supposed to do at my age, but after years of trial and error, pushing myself out of my comfort zone as much as possible, I am now in a phase in which I try to come to terms with who I actually am. 

In the first few years of college, I would go out probably once a month. Nothing overly extravagant, as my tendencies to over-indulge make it difficult to indulge at all, however, it was my first time living somewhere new; no parents, no real responsibilities, and no rules. I fell victim to the FOMO that has -  and continues to plague - my every extraverted decision, but for a short while, I thought I maybe enjoyed it. I was with my friends, doing the things that felt normal for people our age to be doing. Though the rush of adrenaline every time an anxiety-driven event comes to fruition is enough to rationalize agreeing to attend, the after-effect of not only my physical health but mental health left much to be desired. In the same way that one might beat themselves up for getting a poor grade on an exam that they actually studied for, I would wake the next morning with a sense of guilt that could only be likened to the feeling of having done something wrong. As much as I knew drinking at 18 was normal, especially at the University I attended, and going out was not only typical but encouraged by those around me, it felt remarkably un-me. Regardless of the enjoyment attained during a night of happy-go-lucky fun with friends and also alcohol, the person I am in the deepest crevices of my soul is not someone who goes out regularly, but rather conserves such expeditions for special occasions and times when exerting such energy felt necessary to unwind after a notably difficult week. For the same reason I stuck firm on my decision not to get a fake, I knew, and in retrospect was correct, that going out more frequently would be better anticipated and savored for when I was actually 21, and the anxiety of whether or not I could even get into the club would be replaced with well-deserved excitement and giddiness. 

A large role played in my current reflective position is my previous commitment to yes theory, and the stupendous amount of decisions I've made in my life backed up with the mindset of a "why not?" attitude. With this mindset I had drinks I didn't went, made friends I wasn't fond of, and met people my life would've been better off having never met. For the majority of my life, yes theory served me well. I grew up, as I've stated more times than I care to count, in a small town, attending small schools, and making a small group of friends along the way. I didn't play sports - for obvious reasons -, I joined few clubs, and only really ever made plans when asked, rarely the one inviting others. I was encouraged to do things for the sake of doing them, and at the time, this thought process was the best thing I could've followed. I watched as my friend group grew, the invites to sleepovers and birthday parties doubled, and I felt like I was actually part of something; a known figure, much less one people wanted to be around. And for the first few months of college, I will give credit where it's due and acknowledge it served me well for a short time then as well. It's difficult to remember how something felt when it was present, but though I now know who my friends were back then, and how much I was, in fact, not enjoying myself, I will be the first to say I am grateful to have had those experiences when I did. The funny thing about retrospection, however, is that at the time, I felt doing such activities was true to myself. I wanted to do them, so I did them. But what I've learned as I've matured is how to better understand my own motivations, and being the kind of person I am, knowing my true motivations is a less-than-easy feat to accomplish. I'm realizing now that those kinds of behaviors, those kinds of friends, were never what I actually wanted, nor do I think they would ever be interested in me at this point in my life. Rather it was almost a false sense of assurance in my decisions making me think I wanted it. I wanted to be someone that wanted it. 

This thought process has curated a rather difficult era in my adulthood now. Being at this point in my life, the quiet before the storm of the real end of my adolescence, I almost feel a duty to know myself as best I can before that storm breaks. While I can recognize the rarity of 100% confidence being present at all in my 20s, I also have a strong aversion to having to do this kind of thinking later down the line. And with that line of thinking has come a decent amount of rather vital self-indulgence. In the past, I've made mistakes regarding my confidence in my decision-making. Moving to Arizona continues to boggle my mind as to why I felt it was a place where someone of my likeness belonged. And in this era, a time in which mistakes are somewhat encouraged, applauded even as a way to build and work on the person you will one day become, I am choosing to take the time to do so. One of the beats I hit the most in my writing is the significance, not only of self-reflection, but of knowing oneself authentically. Because of this, I do spend a good amount of time talking, writing, and thinking about who I was in the past. I want to be able to grow in a way that makes sense, in a way that follows the already beaten trail, and take the mistakes I've made like the people I surround myself with and the activities I find myself doing, and actually learn from them. 

I recently had a conversation with my dear sweet friend Adam, during which we went back and fourth about broad experiences, but touched on one aspect of our college lives that I find myself consistently falling back to in the quieter moments; relationships. I was telling him about a man I was recently in contact with, and that, although I found him attractive, and thought he was funny and sweet, I couldn't quite find the motivation to go out with him. And that has continued to be my biggest issue with the dating scene in Arizona. I'm simply not interested. I told Adam that I find myself in these situations in which I get an opportunity to maybe find something, to "see what happens", and as someone who moans and groans any open ear off about my tribulations with men, I can't seem to find the energy within myself to see any of them through without a valid reason. Adam's response, funnily enough when comparing this post to one I made a few months ago, prompted this entire blog; "You're just protecting your peace". Saying the words "I'm protecting my peace" is a very easy and direct way to make me distance myself from you. Not because I don't believe in such an act, but rather because from my experiences, the people who say that are usually the ones almost going out of their way to disrupt others. However, when he said this to me, it struck a bit of a chord in my mindset. That is essentially what I have been doing for almost a year now, I was just too afraid of the culture surrounding the idea to admit it was something that did have value when done in an actually beneficial manner. For me, I think the confusion stems from self involvement vs self-indulgence. I don't think either is inherently positive nor negative, yet, when acting in a "protecting my peace" kind of way, i.e., living your life through that lens in the things you do, people you see, and materials you consume, relying too heavily on self-involvement can become somewhat compromising of the peace meant to be garnered. Self-involvement feels more narrow-minded, less introspective, and more externally focused. When relying on the self in a way does not allow room for questions of "why", it becomes selfish, an aspect of reflection that I don't think is necessary nor needed to grow. The way I see it, self-indulgence relies heavily on what is known about yourself, and the ability to question why you like it and what it is. 

One of the most important aspects of growth that is intended to be inherited through an era of "protecting your peace" is growth. Developing a further understanding of your own motivations and thought processes. However, I think that aspect is frequently overlooked for what people who say they're protecting their peace do. A large component is the centered attention on the people around you. Many times, I hear the term used as a way to excuse selfish, even snobby behavior towards friends or loved ones, "So and so asked to hang out but I'm protecting my peace right now". In no way do I believe that is not also an important aspect, nor something I haven't or don't do. But I think, in the way I've talked about it and experienced it before, it sheds a negative light on something that is meant to be healing and productive. The man I was going to go out with was someone who I, and he, had expressed interest in potential fornication. A girls gotta eat. Furthermore, I was the one to reach out to ask if plans could potentially be made. However, it resulted in a night of conversations on Adam's balcony because, and maybe this is TMI, read at your own discretion, was waiting to know if a wash and rinse cycle was necessary for what we had planned, as it's a step in preparation I like to avoid if given the option. After an hour, he responded "We can just hang out and see what happens" instantly checking me in my place and reverting me to someone with a bigger interest in a splinter under my nail bed than sex with a man. Through no fault of his own, this man was able to remind me of what protecting your peace actually looks like. It's more difficult than simply ghosting everyone, and it's simpler than waiting until the mood strikes to do something less than wise. It's the ability to know your worth, and furthermore, know what you're willing to do. I was willing to go to his apartment, and even willing to have a view of bedsheets for 20 minutes, I was not, however, willing to go through the process of getting ready, getting cleaned, getting smelly good and pretty, just to sit on the corner of a strangers bed waiting for him to inevitably awkwardly start leaning in when I had given zero hint that now was the time. I was not willing to see what could happen. 

In my era of self-indulgence, it's almost inevitable that I may step on a few toes. However, I'm aiming to do so in a way that doesn't halt me from living my life, but rather, makes the life I live more enjoyable. I can still go to a man's house with a few hours' notice, but only if he outright, directly says what his intentions are. I can still go out with my friends and get drinks, but only when it's earned, not out of boredom. Protecting my peace to me means knowing what feels good, and knowing what doesnt. I don't want to follow the plot nor ask myself why not, I want to feel the desire to do it. Too many scenarios are ones in which I have to convince myself to go to, force the excitement up and out of me, put a big smile on, and drain the little energy I have stored for myself. I want to have the assurance to know that, regardless of what the activity is, who the person is, or where the event is, it will serve me in any kind of positive way. Protecting your peace is about removing negative experiences, and for me, that means trying to have as many positive ones.