Is The Cost Of Protecting Our Peace Community?
On whether it's possible to live an exciting and enriching life if your personal boundaries are immovable.
Sometimes, on a late-nightTikTok scroll, I’ll see a video where a woman in one of those heatless hairstyles climbs into bed with her iPad and her Stanley cup. The caption reads: “protected my peace a lil too much and now…”, and I have a pang of what my life might look like had I not just moved across the world and, subsequently, into the eye of the storm of chaos. The woman with the hairstyle who is climbing into fresh linens on a Wednesday looks calm. Satisfied. At peace.
We are existing in a paradigm where therapy-speak is the language of a generation, boundaries are both gospel and a weapon, and “protecting your peace” is the cultural currency in which superiority thrives. I am terrible at protecting my peace. I have relatively weak personal boundaries (Libra moon), and romanticize anything in my orbit. This combination, coupled with other personal traits that we don’t need to get into here, makes me someone who is objectively bad at protecting, and maintaining, my peace.
This is widely considered a deficiency nowadays, and I understand why. My attention span is weakened, my energy depleted, my mind occupied by something else. There are times when I feel out of control, run down, and emotionally exhausted. My cortisol levels are probably shot and my adrenals are running on fumes.
This is not a flex nor a sob-story. More of a declaration of where I’m at. Things have not been neatly put in their places yet, and there are plenty of times when I feel guilty, and borderline shameful about it. When I left Australia, my friend Ione Skye gifted me a copy of her memoir—a sprawling, insistently earnest tell-all of the life of a teen Hollywood star tracks the acute messiness of life growing up in the belly of ‘80s and ‘90s Los Angeles. Barely of age, trying to make a home and a life with a heroin addict who was constantly touring, movie set crushes, getting married, getting divorced, exploring her sexuality, infidelity, having a daughter when she felt ready and not when she was settled down with the person she considered “the one”, marriage again.
Skye’s story serves as a reminder that life doesn’t always need to be orderly to be well lived. There were plenty of things I know she regrets—things I know caused her pain and anguish and yes, likely helpings of trauma to eventually work through. But in the midst of a bout of feeling particularly bad about prioritizing impulse and dopamine over peace, Skye’s bestselling words offer a different perspective on a rich life, which led me to ask: what does protecting our peace really cost us? And is it possible to live an exciting and enriching life if your personal boundaries are immovable?
Many of us have people pleasing tendencies, anxious attachment styles, abandonment wounds, and toxic dynamics to address, and it should be stated upfront that I am not suggesting one shouldn’t block their abuser or continue emotionally unhealthy dynamics at the expense of a zesty, memoir-worthy life. There is, however, room for conversation that interrogates the Gen-Z need to bubble wrap our lives so tightly that discomfort cannot permeate the cushy existence we’ve created, which can create an echo-chamber of individualism and, ultimately, loneliness.
being annoyed is the price you pay for community.
it means having guests when you'd rather be alone. it means letting someone live with you even when they get on your nerves. it means showing up for events that you'd rather not go to. it means turning the other cheek.
— divya venn (@divya_venn) March 1, 2025
Recently, a post from Divya Venn went viral on X, where she wrote: “Being annoyed is the price you pay for community.” Rightfully, it resonated with over two million X users. To elaborate: Venn was referring to the notion that connection and access to community comes with a price tag that occasionally reads “annoyance” and “inconvenience.” A balanced friend group or support system relies on just that: support. Support that may be required of people even if they are not in the mood to pick up the phone, pick a loved one up from the airport, have someone sleep on their couch for more than a couple of nights. We make room in our lives for those who matter, even if it means things become a little cramped for a moment.
“Peace is valuable, but it shouldn’t be our only priority.”
“Peace is valuable, but it shouldn’t be our only priority.” Dr. Sara Kuburic, an existential psychotherapist and the author of “It’s On Me”, says. “Sometimes the things that unsettle us temporarily—uncertainty, responsibility, or tough conversations—are the very things that allow us to build the life and connections we actually want.”
Kuburic points out that plenty of things that are asked of us in life may be inconvenient, but not necessarily harmful. “Growth, love, and meaningful connection often require compromise, effort, and a willingness to be uncomfortable,” she says. “Protecting your peace shouldn’t become a shield against intimacy or responsibility, it should be a way of navigating life with both care and courage.” The thinking that protecting our peace always needs to be paramount not only limits our connection to those around us, but also severs our chances at life experiences that exist outside the realm of what’s comfortable: arguably one of the most effective vehicles of growth we humans have.
For some, this recalibration has been transformative. After Emily Pavis lost her mother earlier this year, and since has been on a mental health journey that has forced her to become much more in-touch with her needs. “I can communicate even better, now that I am prioritizing my mental health,” she says. “The more I verbalize my feelings to my close relationships, the more they can level with me and support me how I need to. Communication leads to a mutual understanding and provides the opportunity for growth and emotional intimacy.” Her journey affirms that protecting peace isn’t about avoidance, but about finding language for her needs and allowing others to support her by showing up for herself.
But TikTok can be an echo chamber for the opposite behavior—that is, cutting people off as soon as you feel upset by their actions. “I’ve noticed people sometimes use ‘protecting my peace’ as a catch-all excuse to avoid anything they dislike or that feels uncomfortable,.” Kuburic says. “True peace requires discernment. Otherwise, we risk mistaking avoidance for self-care, which in the long run limits our resilience and capacity to engage meaningfully with others.”
Back in 2023, Jonah Hill’s ex-girlfriend, Sarah Brady, posted a series of screenshots to her Instagram stories alleging the emotional abuse she had experienced during her relationship with Hill, who disguised his controlling tendencies as “boundaries,”shrouding them in therapy-speak as a means to, essentially, gaslight Brady into abiding by his rules.
This is just one example of the ways in which therapy language can backfire and how ill-intentioned folks can use the very tools we’ve been given to cope against us. These are the times we will be required to protect ourselves, and subsequently our peace—even if it costs losing someone else. Kuburic notes that another moment we should be protecting our peace is when we are being consistently asked for more than we can reasonably give. “When patterns of disrespect or harm continue, despite attempts to address them, when environments are toxic and draining—in those moments, protecting our peace means honoring our limits and choosing not to abandon ourselves,” she says.
There are moments when this will be required of us no matter where we land on the peace protection scale, and despite my not having everything perfectly arranged from a life perspective yet, our bodies will always tell us when these moments are needed. Though this can be a challenge for those who are burdened with people-pleasing tendencies, it’s one example of when protecting your peace can have an overwhelmingly positive impact on our lives.
“I was constantly keeping people around, even if I didn’t always feel good or uplifted after a hangout,” Pavis shares, detailing her journey with re-assessing her personal boundaries in the wake of a life-changing event like the loss of a parent. “Experiencing my mom’s end of life gave way to a pivotal shift towards stronger internal boundaries; it showed me that life is too short to constantly put other people, and even work, before my own mental wellbeing.”
Overall, the PR on protecting our peace—even while doing research for this story—is resoundingly good. And after my own recent bout of indulging in unhealthy impulses and then swiftly correcting my mistakes, it’s true that eliminating people from your life who generally make you feel terrible has the same positive outcome almost every time. However, the liberties that seem to be taken in the name of peace can still feel at times a little self-indulgent, and borderline avoidant.
“Growth happens in the uncomfortable moments when you're like, ‘hey, I actually don't like how this makes me feel’ and identifying why…You don't have to choose one thing and stick to it forever,” says Peyton Knight, content creator, ex-model and now the founder of her own digital marketing agency, Last Digital. “Partying used to bring me joy– it doesn't anymore, so I don't do it as much.Your peace will change over time, and accepting it rather than fighting for your old habits will make you grow in unimaginable ways.”
“The impact really depends on how we define peace: is it about preserving our ego’s comfort, or about cultivating a grounded, steady self that can show up for others?”
There are two prongs to the argument against protecting our peace. One interrogates the growing role of individualism (that can be exasperated at times through this thinking) in a society that is desperately in need of community, and the other aims to understand if an adventurous, rich life is possible if we are spending so much time refocusing our boundaries. The latter argument only holds up if those who are prioritizing their peace actually feel as though they are missing out on certain experiences, and the resounding answer has so far not been convinced that FOMO is a real issue when navigating what feels good for them.
In the end, it comes to the definition. “The impact really depends on how we define peace: is it about preserving our ego’s comfort, or about cultivating a grounded, steady self that can show up for others?” Kuburic points out.
Overwhelmingly, the rhetoric around peace in the digital atmosphere and beyond lacks nuance. There are moments when we need peace, and in turn, our needs must be met above everything else. When those we rely on most fail to meet those needs, we must turn inwards to show up for ourselves. There are moments where we must show up for others, even if it means we are required to stretch ourselves for the sake of our loved ones. There are also moments where we need to forge our own path. Make mistakes, learn from them, give in to impulse, make last-minute decisions, be a mess, clean the mess up, and give ourselves grace for falling, instead of hyperfixating on finding our feet.
