I'm a Chaotic Neutral Paladin
This post is an accumulation of several strands of recent introspection. Let me set the stage. First, among recent epiphanies, I realized:
I have high standards. I've received feedback from several people (including close friends throughout my life and my current best friend) that these standards can be simultaneously admirable and frustrating. What I've deduced is that I can keep the standards I have for myself, but must learn to let go of applying them to the people around me. I've lost friendships in the past because I held unfair expectations for them. And so this balancing act of wanting better for myself, while letting others pursue their own definitions of better, is something I want to work on.
Next, in September 2025 I took on a volunteer commitment to support a society of scholars. Yesterday, I stepped down from my post. To maintain anonymity, all I'll say is this: it was an excellent opportunity to contribute to the association, to put my name out there, and to network with peers and possible mentors. It was the sort of activity that's good for a graduate student, in the sense that it confers academic capital. I met wonderful people and colleagues, and enjoyed solving problems that I'm well-suited to solve. Walking away was not an easy choice.
I stepped down for several reasons. It was becoming more work than I expected at the beginning, and it was taking away from my dissertation and ongoing job search. I was also involved with others who did not collaborate in good faith or who seemingly expected others to do the work for them (as volunteering is always at risk of being exploited labour). In the midst of it, it simply felt like spinning my wheels and wasting time in pointless meetings (in that there were no firm agendas or that decisions were already made behind the scenes and talking points were made to defend them, etc.). In short: I was exhausted and no longer enjoying what I was contributing to.
The majority of people in this case would continue—either because they fall for the sunk cost fallacy or because they have a sense of obligation to pleasing people or to avoid disappointing them. Not me. I'm not swayed by notions of continuing something because much has been put into it (this goes for relationships, work, hobbies, anything really). Nor do I live according to what others think of me. On the one hand, I like this aspect of myself, because on the outside it can be perceived as being stubborn, but internally I feel it's a form of respecting myself, and of maintaining integrity when my values are incongruent with the external world. On the other hand, it's a costly way to live. It means being comfortable with letting others down or putting them in a worse off position. It means letting go of my ego's attachment to my efforts and intended outcomes. And it means closing the door on paths. I'm now going to be known as the fellow who abandoned a commitment and caused more work for others. People don't need to know my personal reasons to have that perception of me. I simultaneously care and do not care, and I'm chalking it up as a case of "two things can be true at the same time."
In the parlance of Dungeons & Dragons, the alignment system is a neat way to clarify a character's identity, along the axes of good/evil and lawful/chaotic, with neutral modes interspersed. One's alignment is not meant to be binding, and as in real life, people can and do "act out of character" from time to time.
I'm not here to create a character. I'm here to reflect on my real-life tendencies. It's not my intention in life to hurt or oppress or kill others, so I can safely rule out an affinity towards evil.
Yet I'm reluctant to call myself good because I believe anyone who calls themselves X are, more often than not, not X. (Think X = funny, nice, etc.) There's a particular trap in calling oneself good because that way leads to a sense of moral superiority and can hinder true progress. Don't get me wrong: I aspire to be good, but I know I've done harm to others throughout my life and so mere intentions do not equate to outcomes. All this to say: I'm neutral when it comes to morality.
As for the axis of law vs. chaos, I suppose I lean chaotic. My personal convictions are stronger than social conventions. It's not that I intentionally seek to be disruptive, but that I can make choices that contest authority and traditions when they do not align with my values. As in the case of my walking away from the society of scholars—I deemed it better to leave an environment that was draining me, than to maintain the status quo.
In my lived experience, I've learned that making difficult choices requires constant practice. And that it helps to practice discomfort on an ongoing basis. Because come time when a difficult scenario presents itself, if a person isn't practiced in trivial discomforts, how will they fare in making the tough decision? At the highest levels, this has life-or-death implications, because (it seems to me) many of our societal ails these days stem from not having enough people push back against authority. They bend the knee, capitulate, consent to being used.
And so, there is a non-zero part of me that's happy I have it in me to make a difficult decision even at personal costs. Because the next time I'm faced with a tough choice, I can draw on my prior practice.
In role-playing games, I'm drawn to spellcasters like Wizards, but also to chivalric champions like Paladins. As real life has a sore lack of spells (the only magic I can cast is writing), the Paladin is the class I identify with. The high standards I have for myself are akin to a personal code. It's not the case that my regard for order is externally sourced—it's internally motivated.
This relates to the realization that I've lost friends over my personal code. In RPGs, Paladins have a reputation for being Goody Two-shoes, or otherwise prohibitive of what others can do because of their oath. The metaphor starts to get murky here, but in my quiet, insecure moments, I do feel that my standards work for and against me. I remember one ex-friend who told me that I inspire them to do better, but at the same time frustrate them because I can be judgmental. When others fall short, I'm prone to be harsh on them. I can admit that.
I don't really know where I wanted to go with this post. Part of it is to record, somewhere, the reasoning behind my choice to step back. The other part is to plant a seed for future introspection.