Over the last few years, “protecting your peace” has become one of the most common pieces of advice on the internet. You hear it in reels, see it in captions, and read it in self-help posts that treat any kind of discomfort as a threat. The idea sounds perfect on the surface. Who wouldn’t want a calm, conflict-free life? But the problem is that the phrase has started to include anything that feels even slightly inconvenient, a tough conversation, a disagreement with a friend, a little friction in a relationship, or even basic emotional effort. Somewhere along the way, “protecting your peace” became less about healthy boundaries and more about avoiding anything that doesn’t feel easy.
The truth is that discomfort is not the same as danger. Yet online, the two often get presented as identical. If someone confronts you, it’s labelled “negativity.” If a friend asks for more clarity, it’s seen as “drama.” If a relationship needs work, it’s described as “toxic.” We’ve created a culture where stepping away is praised more than staying and working things out. And while walking away is sometimes absolutely necessary, the constant encouragement to avoid friction ends up robbing us of something essential, the chance to form deeper, more meaningful connections.
Why discomfort actually helps relationships grow
Think about any relationship you truly value. Chances are, it wasn’t built on perfect harmony. It grew through arguments, misunderstandings, awkward phases, mismatched expectations, and the slow process of learning to understand each other. You probably annoyed each other at some point. You might have disagreed strongly, even hurt each other unintentionally. But you stayed, talked, apologised, adjusted, and continued to show up. That process – the “scratch,” the discomfort- is what makes the bond solid. When you remove all possibility of discomfort, you also remove the possibility of depth.
We often forget that some of the strongest communities in life are built around shared inconvenience. College hostels, first jobs, big families, sports teams, none of these are peaceful all the time. They are loud, messy, and filled with people who don’t always think the same way. But that’s also why those bonds feel so real. You live through chaos together. You figure things out. You deal with different personalities and learn how to handle conflict without running from it. Community grows because people choose to stay even when it’s not comfortable.
In contrast, the internet version of peace is clean and solitary. It tells you to prioritise yourself so much that anyone who challenges you becomes a problem to be removed. But a challenge isn’t always harmful. Sometimes the people who push you a little are the ones who help you grow. Sometimes the slight irritation is what reminds you to be patient, empathetic, or honest. Real relationships require effort, and effort is rarely peaceful.
Maybe the goal isn’t peace, maybe it’s presence
Of course, protecting your peace isn’t a bad idea by itself. There are situations where stepping away is the healthiest, safest option. The issue is when the concept becomes an excuse to avoid all emotional responsibility. If we protect ourselves so much that nothing and no one can reach us, then we’re not building resilience – we’re building isolation. Peace matters, but a life spent constantly avoiding discomfort becomes surprisingly empty.
Maybe the problem isn’t peace. Maybe the problem is that we treat peace as the goal for every situation. What if the real goal is presence instead? Being present means staying in the conversation even when it gets uncomfortable. It means listening instead of blocking. It means showing up for people even when it requires effort. Presence creates connection. Peace, when overused, creates distance.
So, is protecting your peace overrated? Not entirely, but the way we use the phrase definitely is. Peace should protect you from harm, not from humanity. A little discomfort won’t ruin your life; it will often make it richer. The scratches, the disagreements, the difficult moments, these are the parts that make relationships real. And sometimes, what we truly need isn’t a life without friction, but a life full of people we can grow with, mess up with, and come back to.