Peace

I’ve come to realize that protecting my peace at all costs is pretty much going to be my life goal for the remaining twenty-odd years I have left on this planet.

And that includes being on the alert for self-inflicted injuries. Because damn if I’m not my own worst enemy. If there were an Olympics for getting in the way of yourself, I would be on the podium every two years, because I’m good at it both in summer and in winter.

It’s taken me a long time to get here. As an old GenX woman in the US, I’ve had other priorities – the most rewarding of which were my kids, but they’re grown and gone and succeeding and in no need of me. It has taken me a lifetime to learn to establish boundaries, to say no, to finesse the no so it doesn’t land unpleasantly on the ears of those who have to hear it.

I no longer go out of my way. At work, I know, the moment I am perceived of as a “nice lady”, the parade of people dumping out their problems to me will be endless – and I’m not flattering myself! This is just lived experience. Because I am a nice lady. I’ve met so many superb people by being a nice lady. I am also exhausted.

So in the office, I keep myself to myself. Three days a week, I do what I have to do because it’s required – travel on four major highways and perform insane merges, both to and from the office – I’m not UNfriendly. I’m just in my own business, in my own head, nice to see you, going back to my hotdesk now. I have a taxonomy to develop. I have third-party data to govern.

At home…, I’m not on the dating apps (God forbid) because again, I’m not looking for trouble. I want a mellow evening. I want to read, and write, and eat the food I want to eat, and watch the TV shows I want to watch. I want to call and text with the people I love – my cousins, my friends. I want to go to bed when I feel it’s time, toss and turn as much as my menopausal body needs to, and set as many sub-sub-sub alarms and timers for waking up as I want. (I hate waking up.)

You could say I’m conflict-avoidant. That might even be true. But why would any sane person in this universe actively seek out conflict? I do not understand that particular tilt at that particular windmill.

But God, I treasure my peace. My specific scented candle. My specific linen spray before bed. My specific music (thank you, WQXR), my books and my weird reading patterns. My knitting, my cooking. I list these things because when I used to live with someone who criticized all of that. Criticized me for not being able to read a book straight through without ducking out on side quests. Criticized me for “your misshapen projects” with my knitting. Criticized the books I was reading, and the money I spend on the important things – the candles, the spray, the toiletries. These were a source of annoyance or contention. Mostly, I think, my existing was a source of annoyance or contention.

Tomorrow I will embark on that series of crazy highway merges from Staten Island to the Central Ward of Newark. I will have a new car diffuser – yes, I paid entirely too much for it, but it works for almost a year. Again, this would drive some co-habitants insane – for reasons of cost, or disagreement about the smell, or just general “why are you doing something nice for yourself when you’re supposed to be working for ME.”

But I treasure my peace, and I have no co-habitants. And I’ll go to bed in a few hours, and sleep well.