I was invited to a club last weekend with friends whose company I have consistently enjoyed. I surprised myself by saying no. This wouldn’t have always been the case during some other points in my life. I used to not only say yes to most invites, but I was also prone to outstaying my welcome. Back then, it was easy for indulgence to turn into excess. I was also starving for human contact and deeply insecure. Once I had bathed in the warmth of conversation and shared space, I was reluctant to go back to my apartment alone. I hadn’t yet built a life that I enjoyed. Because of this, I never wanted to go back to what I had built. Looking at a half-constructed reality wasn’t any fun, especially when I had spent so much time and energy invested outside of myself. I never wanted the distractions, in whatever form they came in, to end.

But at some point, living for distractions made it so that I was neglecting the things that make someone upstanding, stable, and respectable. I have a distinct memory of my fellow slacker friend turning to me once as we were both mutually hiding away together from our separate lives and responsibilities. In this moment he said something like, “you know it isn’t normal or healthy to never experience discomfort. Discomfort is part of a healthy emotional life.”

It sounds funny, but at the time I heard it this was relatively mind-blowing to me. Indoctrinated by a childhood filled with the background noise of self-help and advertisements, I really thought anything was possible if you had enough willpower and money. I slowly learned, through some youthful errors in judgment that this is not the case. Real happiness, it turns out, is something you grow rather than something you purchase, or something you consume.

While the comment struck me as profound in the moment that I heard it, the meaning of it was something I didn’t yet want to internalize. I was still stuck on the triumphs and the heartbreaks of cheap thrills and indulgence. I found myself in a holding pattern. I knew that the life I was living was not one that would make me happy long term, but I also knew that I wasn’t yet ready to start the real, hard work I would have to put in to get the life I wanted or was proud of. So, I spent more time wasting time, but when I was finally ready to start taking life a little more seriously, my old friends’ words were something that would echo through my head at different points.

They were in my head when I said no to the invite this weekend, for example. I was at a group dinner when some new friends mentioned that they would be going to a club that night, and that I should come along with them. Every primal part of me wanted to say yes. I would be spending more time with people whose company I already enjoyed, listening to music I loved, in a place filled with strangers looking to have fun.

But practically? It would throw off my sleep schedule, would require me spending money I don’t have, would probably end in me drinking more and being hungover the next day, and was also probably not an experience that would challenge me. So, while I agonized over doing so, I did eventually send that text saying no to the invite. Because sometimes life isn’t fun in the short term, but it may pay dividends in the long run. For that one day, I chose wisdom and maturity.