You Tried. Now Go Home.
It’s the final day of The Barbecue Sermon, and here’s your holy permission slip:
If you can’t follow the other tenets, go away.
And—this is important—sometimes the one who needs to go… isn’t you. Sometimes keeping the peace means ending the potluck early for someone else.
Because grace isn’t always passive. Sometimes it looks like boundaries.
Sometimes it looks like “You need to leave now.”
Your absence is a boundary. Your peace is not up for discussion.
1. Leaving is Not Failure
You tried kindness. You smiled through microaggressions. You laughed, you listened, you endured three unsolicited political takes, two passive-aggressive jabs, and one overly competitive cornhole champion.
Now you’re out of steam. That doesn’t make you weak. It means you were paying attention.
2. Leave With Grace (or Ghost With Dignity)
“Thanks so much—heading out!” is a full sentence. You don’t owe a debrief. You don’t owe a lingering hug. If your nervous system says leave, listen to it.
Bonus points if you slip away unnoticed with the last cookie.
3. Sometimes They Need to Go
If someone is harming the vibe, breaking your peace, or being repeatedly cruel despite soft redirects?
You can ask them to leave. You can tell them, calmly or not, “This isn’t working.” You can protect your space. That is kindness—to yourself and everyone else stuck in that social blast radius.
You’re not the villain for holding the line. You’re the boundary made flesh.
4. Absence is a Kindness Too
Sometimes your absence protects others from your irritation.
Sometimes your absence protects you from someone else’s entitlement.
Silence and space are tools. Use them like sunblock.
5. Retreat to Regroup
Go home. Take off the pants with buttons. Put on that playlist that makes your soul unclench. Eat the emergency snack you hid in your car.
Peace isn’t just a concept—it’s a destination. Return to it.
Final Blessing:
You are not required to absorb other people’s discomfort just to make things easier. You are allowed to leave—quietly, quickly, furiously, or festively.
You are also allowed to remove others when the cost of their presence outweighs your peace.
The Cult of Brighter Days waves you off with love.
May your coleslaw be crunchy, your fireworks safe, and your personal boundaries ironclad with glitter trim.
Go in peace.
And yes—take the cake. Aunt Susan will get over it.
