It’s 2020—do you know where your boundaries are? Or, maybe more importantly, do you have boundaries?
I used to view boundaries as a negative trait. I felt that if I set a boundary I was being rude, disrespectful or that I was being difficult. And, if someone else set a boundary with me, it meant that I was being rejected in some way. Admittedly, during the first 35 years of my life, I assumed that people were sucking on purpose, just to piss me off.
Boundaries seemed to me to be a fancy way of dressing up rejection and finishing it up with putting a big bow on selfishness. I would often view them as misguided attempts by another to interrupt our relationship with their own selfish acts of senseless self-care. And, to be honest, it’s tough for me to type that now that I know what I know, having done the excruciatingly hard (but necessary) work on myself.
During my years of people-pleasing, I would feel panic-stricken whenever I was forced to set a boundary as a last resort, in a moment of panic, anxiety or exhaustion of feeling as if I had to do something that didn’t align with what I really wanted to do. Many times I would be faced with being put in a situation that I didn’t want to be in, but felt forced and as if I didn’t have a choice otherwise. I felt I was going to disappoint a friend, family member or my own husband.
Setting a boundary felt scary, as if it was a prelude to some terrible loss.
I felt that people with boundaries sacrificed love and connection for their own selfish needs. Looking back now, it’s incredible to me I ever saw the world in that way. I am in awe that I ever found it easier to put my own desires and needs on the back burner, or to get them met in some less disruptive way: through feeling guilt, minimizing their importance or blaming others for my frustrations when all else failed.
For years, nothing was worth the risk of disappointing someone I loved; even if it meant disappointing myself.
After many years of growing myself up through the trenches of each relationship of my life (i.e. friendships, family relationships, my marriage), I saw the light at the end of the people-pleasing tunnel.
Yet maybe it could better be described as an emerging new sense of self. Most days, I peer out into seeing a bright, new world. I feel the safety that boundaries create and it is so refreshing.
Growing up in an Italian family and with a father from New York, I have always appreciated directness and blunt honesty, even if it wasn’t always what I wanted to hear. I always understood that sometimes there have been things that I have needed to hear, even if it wasn’t always easy. So why, for so long, did I not give the same to others? Why would I freely accept that from others but find such a hard time to give that to others for the betterment of myself as well?
I’ve realized that boundaries act as guardians to us.
They protect our energies, emotions and self-respect. They create direct communication over assumptions, avoidance, passive aggression, hidden agendas and unspoken expectations.
Although boundaries are not always comfortable, they are absolutely valuable. It’s not always comfortable to decline invitations (especially if you struggle with FOMO) or when asked certain questions to say “I’d rather not talk about that.”
I type this with tears in my eyes, being so proud of myself of how far I have come, but also realizing how much I put my own needs on the back-burner for so long.
I look back and feel so much empathy for that old version of myself and what I once allowed.
I wish I could just give her a giant hug and tell her that everything will soon make sense and that it will be okay; that the heartbreaks of lost relationships would absolutely be worth the reward of what is learned from them. I would remind her to be gentle with herself and that, no matter how hard she tried, not everyone will be to you who you are to them, and vice versa. Looking into my crystal ball of the past, I would emphasize that the dissipated relationships she valued so much, held so dearly and loved so hard were there for a reason and a season, but unfortunately not a lifetime; and that letting go doesn’t mean you don’t care. It also doesn’t mean that you are letting them, or yourself, down either. It merely means that you loved yourself enough to lovingly let go of what’s not okay.
I’ll never know whether people are doing the best they can, or not. But when I assume people are, it makes my life better. Generosities cannot exist and nothing is sustainable without boundaries.
As a former people-pleaser, I’m not as sweet as I used to be, but I’m far more loving.
