“‘Inconvenience is the cost of community,’ I repeat to myself as I climb six flights of stairs for my friend’s birthday party for her cat,” reads a semi-viral X post that speaks to the hyper-specific (and sometimes ridiculous) ways in which we show up for the people we love. Cat parties aside, this can also look like helping a friend move flats while nursing a monumental hangover, dragging yourself to an experimental sound bath just because a housemate wants to go, or braving the Victoria line at rush hour to console a loved one in need – even though you envisaged a blissful evening of doing nothing but thumbing through TikTok in your dressing gown.

The phrase “inconvenience is the cost of community” and variations on it – including “loneliness is the price you pay for a life of convenience” and “everyone wants a village, no one wants to be a villager” – have recently gained traction on social media, underpinning debates about personal sacrifice, what we actually ‘owe’ each other, and how often we should be putting other people’s needs before our own. But as is often the case on the internet, there’s a lot of contradictory advice flying around. After all, for the past few years, we’ve been told to say “no” more often, set boundaries, cut off people who ‘trauma-dump’ on us, and religiously practice self-care. Now we’re being told to go the extra mile for one another, or risk dying alone – so which one is it? 

As mentioned, in recent years it has become impossible to dodge the phrase “protect your peace” online, a mantra-turned-social-movement encouraging people to live stress-free lives by limiting exposure to ‘negativity’. While the idea isn’t inherently harmful, it has unfortunately become synonymous with the act of fully disengaging from people as soon as you’re faced with any emotional discomfort. Tired? Cancel your plans. Boyfriend left the bathroom a mess? Break up. Family member made a joke at your expense last Christmas? Well, you hope the laughs were worth it, as that’s the last festive drinks you’ll be gracing with your presence.

Where did this attitude come from? According to psychotherapist and author Eloise Allexia, technology has continued to help us live isolated and sanitised lives, “moving us away from social spaces and in-person interactions, and towards our own private spaces”. We should take heed of the ramifications, she warns, referring to findings in an 80-year-long Harvard study that showed how the quality of our relationships was actually more important than good genetics in helping us live longer, happier lives. The study’s conclusion is clear: loneliness kills – it’s as damaging as smoking or alcoholism. “While it might feel good to step back from social situations in the short term, it can lead to longer-term challenges,” Allexia says. “Community delivers so many benefits, such as emotional guidance and support, reduced stress, boosted mental health, and an overall feeling of safety.”

While we should all practice healthy boundaries and learn to enjoy some time alone, these trends feel like an extreme overcorrection, becoming slogans for avoidance rather than tools for healthier connection. “Modern life is fast, fragmented, and highly individualised,” says Kamalyn Kaur, psychotherapist and high-functioning anxiety expert. “Community provides the grounding force of being seen, known, and supported through both joys and struggles. Social discomfort is part of that process – it’s in navigating awkwardness, disagreements, and repairs that we develop relational depth.” 

If we avoid conflict and only chase comfort, we risk limiting ourselves to shallow and superficial connections that serve as an echo chamber. Diversity of thought is what brings richness to our lives. How do we grow if we don’t learn from our mistakes, or broaden our opinions without the help of those around us? People are lonelier than ever, but see no connection to their refusal to bear each other’s quirks, endure minor struggles, or inconvenience themselves for the benefit of others. In other words: everyone wants a village, but no one wants to be a villager.

To clarify, this isn’t about burning yourself out or withstanding profound pain and abuse. It’s about recognising the nuances in interpersonal relationships. “Healthy boundaries are important but shouldn’t isolate us; they should create conditions for authentic connection,” says Kaur, adding that there is space in our lives for both self-care and community care, and they shouldn’t be viewed as opposites. It’s imperative to remove yourself from harmful situations and look after yourself, but tolerating some social friction or disturbances to your preferred routine is simply part and parcel of being a social creature.

Modern life is fast, fragmented, and highly individualised. Community provides the grounding force of being seen, known, and supported through both joys and struggles

I’m not proud to say that I used to be a bit of a last-minute bailer, cancelling plans when I’ve been hungover and justifying it as self-care. I’m grateful to have had friends call me out on it, and rightly so. Other than waking up the next day feeling slightly more rejuvenated, I can tell you I gained nothing from prioritising my immediate short-term comfort over tending to my long-term relationships. Of course, no one likes being tired, but I came to realise that, in the grand scheme of things, my friendships were more than worth hauling myself out of bed for.

“Community isn’t meant to be efficient or perfectly convenient,” says Kaur. “True belonging often asks us to rearrange our schedules, sit with differences, or extend patience when it would be easier to walk away. That inconvenience is the investment – because what we receive in return is deeper connection, a sense of shared humanity, the resilience and psychological safety that comes from not having to carry life alone.”

I’ve also spent hours meticulously workshopping friends’ Hinge profiles. I’ve consoled them through mental health crises, family fallouts and employment tribunals. I once offered to travel two hours to help a friend ‘vibe-check’ a man she had been on one Hinge date with at his amateur play (note to reader: I was thankfully never taken up on this offer). In return, I’ve slept in friends’ beds after breakups, spent marooned Christmases with them and their families, been held – literally and metaphorically – after the death of loved ones. It seems we actually owe each other a lot.

Maybe the most effective way of “protecting your peace” is not by shutting people out. Yes, isolation may be easier, but it’s certainly not better. You cannot avoid the natural chaos that comes with being in each other’s orbit – people will demand time and energy of us, rub us up the wrong way, and even hurt us. But we should realise that in trying to circumvent pain or awkwardness, you don’t get any of the good stuff either: support; kinship; a village.