There are just some hills I am unwilling to die on. As of late, the very thought of going blue in the face defending or refuting an opinion so disparate from mine seems so...fatiguing. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love a good debate, and this is not an endorsement of acquiescing at the sacrifice of individual opinion, but if it feels like we're fighting or though I am speaking to a brick wall, I will completely disengage. Not only because it is a complete waste of time to speak to someone who is unwilling to listen, but because it is a disrespect to myself to engage with someone who is more contented with hearing the sound of their voice overpower mine. It is a disservice to my sanity to voluntarily subject myself to that kind of treatment from anyone, so I don't.

Also because there are some things that are just not...that deep.

#Adulting.

As I said before, I love a good tête-à-tête, but if I find myself going hoarse refuting things that defy pure logic, or even simply contrasts with my own opinions and/or morals, I'm giving the girls a Trina, "that's her business", and a shoulder shrug.

Here is a perfect example: One day, while out to eat with some girlfriends, discussion ventured to the topic of gun violence. Out of NOWHERE, some man - who was on his way out of the restaurant, pho and mango smoothie balanced precariously in hand - stopped and proceeded to mansplain to me just why my not seeing the necessity in citizens owning military-grade machinery, was wrong.

Eyes glazed over like a myopic dog on its way to the cabin in the woods, I sat there and listened to him drone, nonstop, about the history of American foreign policy, international conflict and the sine qua non of the Second Amendment. Mind, during this time I'm only half listening because the whole reason I had gone out was to hang with my ladies, eat some eggrolls, slurp on some Pho Ga (chicken pho, we keeps it international over here, sisters) and sip on a mango smoothie.

Not discuss why citizens needed to be armed for some impending attack on the homefront.

So I let him pontificate, sans interruption, vacantly nodding my head, pausing my performance only to sip on my smoothie and make covert, "who is this guy?" facial expressions as I waited for my soup to come out. I knew he wasn't changing my mind, nor I his.

So he continued to speak, never pausing a breath to ask me anything or even provide me the benefit of believing my opinion mattered. So he and I continued our act of listening to him speak. While he got off on proving me wrong, I was wishing for Beyoncé to swoop in from her McMansion in the Holywood Hills, wrap me in her braided ponytail and take me to whatever cool down room Blue, Sir and Rumi go to after their hot yoga sessions, or whichever room rich people tend to after partaking in whatever lavish recreational hobby.

I let him talk because I'm scary I didn't care to argue, and I knew our individual views were uncompromising.

There are hills I do not care to die on, nor throw myself in the line of fire for. Sometimes because it is simply just not that deep, and most times because I see no benefit in arguing with people who are hearing, but not listening to me.

I do not believe it is a sign of weakness to pick your battles, rather a testament to my putting myself first. I pick my battles because I will not allow anyone to steamroll me or waste my breath on matters that are undeserving of it.

Also because it benefits my mental health, and that trumps all.

Learn to pick your battles.