Chaos and Charm

Once upon a time, I used to respond to every text, every question, every “we need to talk.”
Now? I respond when my nervous system says it’s safe.

It’s not avoidance.
It’s selective peace.

Because not everything deserves access to your energy — especially the things that keep you stuck in the same emotional group chat you’ve been trying to leave since 2019.

I used to feel guilty for stepping back.
Like I owed everyone closure, context, or one last emotionally mature paragraph to prove I wasn’t the villain.
But sometimes silence is the paragraph.
And lately, I’ve realized guilt is just peace’s security alarm — it goes off every time I start protecting myself in ways I never used to.

You can love people and still need distance.
You can care deeply and still not want to explain yourself again.
You can choose peace without making a whole announcement about it.

These days, I’m retraining my brain to stop equating stillness with laziness, and quiet with failure.
To remember that rest isn’t retreat — it’s recovery.
That not every message requires a dissertation, and not every disagreement deserves attendance.

Because sometimes, protecting your peace looks different depending on the day.
Sometimes it’s meditation.
Sometimes it’s muting the chat.
Sometimes it’s pretending you didn’t see that “?” follow-up message because your soul simply can’t.

And the truth? Growth isn’t always loud or visible.
Sometimes it’s just… not replying.
Not engaging.
Not attending the argument you were invited to.

That kind of restraint used to feel uncomfortable — like I was being cold or dismissive.
Now it feels like freedom.
Because peace isn’t passive; it’s a full-time job with no benefits and the occasional unpaid overtime.

So if you notice me choosing quiet more often, don’t worry.
I’m not avoiding you.
I’m just investing my energy where it can actually grow back.

If that’s avoidance, fine.
But around here, we call it selective peace — and it’s working, mama.