The myth of the chill girl

They say I’m chill.

“You’re always so relaxed.”
“You don’t stress easily.”
“You’re just… easygoing.”

Cute. But also: categorically false.

What I am, is observant. A room-reader. A mood sponge with a professional poker face. It’s a skill I’ve honed for years. Especially at work, where knowing what’s needed and adapting accordingly is, frankly, part of the job description. And I’m good at it. Almost worryingly good. So good, in fact, that I sometimes forget what I actually want, underneath all the calibration.

That said, ask me to do a staff satisfaction survey and I suddenly talk a lot less confidently. Funny how that works.

In meetings, I’m the calm one. The fair one. The one who doesn’t overreact.
When I like someone, let’s say I used to be chill. Now I’m just aware of the emotional price tag that came with it. Spoiler: it wasn’t on sale.

Here’s the real deal: I’m chill when things are clear. When people are honest, transparent, and show up like they said they would. I’m chill when I don’t have to guess how someone feels, or when my own voice doesn’t have to shrink to keep someone else from running. I’m chill when I can express frustration without fearing the other person will vanish into a puff of conflict-avoidant smoke.

Otherwise? My inner council of personalities starts holding emergency meetings. The logical adult, the wounded child, the diplomatic headmistress, the feral poet. It’s loud in here.

During therapy (because of course I went), my psychologist asked me, “Do you know who you really are?”
And for a moment, my brain just… crashed.
“I mean… do you?” I asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
She proceeded to list it all out: her values, her traits, her core. Like it was just there, ready for her.

Which made me wonder: is identity supposed to be that clear? Does everyone walk around with a blinking neon sign over their head saying “THIS IS ME”?
Because mine flickers. Sometimes it’s there, loud and proud. Sometimes it’s more like a subtle undercurrent. Or a shrug.

And don’t get me started on opinions. I have them, absolutely. But I also see nuance. I’m good at arguing a case, then turning around and understanding the other side. It’s not flip-flopping; it’s empathy. I’m cautious not to become someone who shouts their beliefs without room for revision. I want to be grounded but not immovable. Firm, but not brittle.

So am I chill?

Sometimes, yes.
But only when the conditions are right. When my nervous system isn’t stuck in a loop of anticipating rejection or trying to earn a seat at a table I already built.
And when I remember that I don’t need to perform calm to be worthy of peace.

I may not have all the answers, but I know this: I’m a work in progress.
And I like who I’m becoming, even when I’m not chill about it.