I think I’ve got inner peace (IP). Truth be told, I’ve spent the last few months in denial about my IP, but the symptoms are hard to ignore, and they continue to progress at an alarming rate. Generally, I’m not one for self diagnoses and my on-line research has been inconclusive at best—WebMD has surprisingly scant intel on the condition, but I’m assured by Katy Perry’s website that rather than fighting IP, I should embrace it. And try transcendental meditation.

I’ve asked my friends who have IP about it and they just smile knowingly and respond, “Right on, sister.” It’s frustrating. Either they don’t want to talk about it or it’s become so much a part of them that they don’t even realize they have IP, which is probably why there are no support groups.

So, I’m left to sort through the facts on my own. There is some compelling evidence that points to an absence of IP. Just the other day some girl with peace and vegan bumper stickers all over the back of her car cut me off in her ancient, fossil-fuel-burning Honda, and I let her have it, with both horn and finger. But it wasn’t remotely satisfying. That’s the insidious aspect of IP—it takes the vindictive fun out of those situations.

And then there’s the blatant, hard-to-ignore stuff that supports an IP diagnosis. To wit:

• I didn’t hit skip when U2 came on and, instead, listened. It wasn’t half bad.
• I don’t suck in my stomach around cute men.
• I have been walking away from arguments without the slightest desire to prove I’ve got the right of it.
• I sometimes wear a t-shirt with “Love” on it, without irony.
• Someone in yoga class farted next to me. Twice. And I didn’t roll up my mat in horror. Instead, I secretly urged her to really work her pelvic floor muscles.

See? It’s pretty bad. I definitely have it. If you’ve never experienced IP, it’s hard to describe the alien feeling of just being all right with almost everything.

I’m not sure where to go from here and I feel largely unmotivated to try anything proactive or preventive (which, I understand, is one of the subtler side effects of IP). I feel slightly comforted by the fact that there are friends, family, and lovers who are working around the clock to stop the forward progress of my IP, if not cure me of it entirely. So far, however, my IP has been largely unresponsive to these efforts. Sure, they might buy me a remission or two, but I’m fairly certain this condition is chronic.

I have no idea what form my IP will ultimately take—I’m sure it can’t completely overpower my anger or my anxiety, but it sure has stripped them of their teeth. I guess time will tell.

In the meantime, if anyone out there has any advice on how to live with IP, hit me up. Or not. It’s OK either way.