Part 1: How to have boundaries with yourself

Why do we keep our word to everyone but ourselves?

❤️‍🩹Next Sober From Bullshit Recovery Club: Storytelling Edition is Wednesday, December 1. Register here.

❄️ WINTER SOLSTICE writing workshop is Sunday, December 19th. This is the last writing workshop of the year! Please sign up in advance here here (Sunday, 12/19, 10am - 12pm PST).

Questions? Ask. I’m here and I’d love to hear from you.

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Photo by Thanos Pal on Unsplash

Despite barely being able to count past my fingers and toes, I consider myself a relatively smart person: I pick up concepts pretty quickly, I’m excellent at troubleshooting and problem-solving, I’m street-savvy and have a finely-tuned inner GPS I can rely on to navigate new places, my read on people and situations is usually accurate and trustworthy.

This is why I was so confused when the cultural conversation around “boundaries” first reached critical mass and everywhere I looked, people were extolling the virtues of having them. It seemed that boundaries were the answer to everything! Hate your job? You need to be more assertive with your boss! In a shitty relationship? You ignored too many red flags! Parents still gaslighting you? You’re a doormat! Nodded your head to getting pepperoni on a shared pizza when you hate pepperoni? You’re a people pleaser!

These days, there are many excellent books on boundaries out there (in particular, I’ve heard glowing review after glowing review about this one, though I have yet to read it myself). And, for many of us, myself most absolutely included, the concept remains abstract. We understand on an intellectual level that we need stronger boundaries. But how do we actually do that? What words do we say to assert ourselves? How do we recognize when a boundary has been crossed? How might we apply the broader definition of boundaries to our own unique experiences?

That last sentence is the key: for so many of us, the reason why “boundaries” remain nothing more than a concept is because the way we must enact them is unique to each of us. The way that I need to assert boundaries in my life is different from any other person on the planet. Sure, there will be similarities and trends and point-to-able themes, and, each of us must take these concepts and make them ours.

When I contemplate my personal boundaries, my mind immediately goes to what I need to keep out. This is obvious, and—though not always easy—there’s a simplicity, a straightforwardness to it. Asking myself what people, situations, substances, are no longer welcome? the answers are pretty clear. In my mind’s eye, I stand with arms outstretched, hands open, palms facing away from me: KEEP OUT. This is no longer allowed.

What I have found equally challenging and vital is learning the other side of boundaries: sure, of course, it’s characterized by everything I want to keep out. But what about what I want to keep in?

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Waking up to the ways that we have dishonored our personal boundaries can be enlivening. It can also be overwhelming. Enlivening, because with awareness comes agency: now that we can see what was once on autopilot, we can take action. We can *do* something about that invisible companion of persistent discomfort. Overwhelming, because identifying the leaks in our boundaries—all the places we’ve said “yes” when we meant “no,” all the shitty behaviors we’ve been resenting in others, all the ways we shape-shifted or minimized ourselves because we thought we were “keeping the peace,”—well, it’s confronting.

Recognizing where our limits have been crossed is an essential first step. But then what? How do we get started?

Sometimes, it’s conspicuous. It’s quitting drinking for real this time. It’s walking away from a relationship that you were only tolerating. It’s telling a friend you can no longer kick it with them because they are always 45 minutes late to hang out. It’s copping to your profound disdain for pepperoni. This is the KEEP OUT stuff. It’s external, concrete, real.

In early recovery, my external boundaries became razor sharp. I asserted myself with family members when they invalidated my feelings. I left an eight-year relationship, and a job with a borderline abusive boss. I said no to 95% of invitations, I left every social event I did attend hella early, I lost a whole lot of “friends.”

But my inner dialogue was still so damn mean. I will still setting big goals, and then blowing off all the steps I knew I’d have to take to get me there. I was haphazard and inconsistent with basic hygiene, rest, and nutrition, despite knowing all that was required to maintain a semblance of balance. My boundaries with others were strong, almost rigidly so. But my boundaries with myself were still porous as a sieve.

Many of those external boundaries have since softened, and the reason is because I’ve become stronger in myself. When I stand up for myself and my life, I am less likely to get knocked off my center by other people’s bummer behavior. The siren song of substances call to me less and less. I am more quickly able to recognize when something doesn’t sit right because I am more attuned to how a boundary violation feels in my body.

Boundaries are meant to shift and evolve as we do. They are not etched in stone. We can forgive, and repair. And, boundaries run the risk of staying rigid and hard if we do not do the work of establishing boundaries with ourselves.

For me, this meant incorporating practices where I began to fortify myself from the inside. Specifically, I went to work on my shitty thoughts, calling myself out on negative self talk again, and again, and again, and practicing new thoughts until this one day, I was on a run, hefting my gloriously-wonder-thighed-ass up a big hill, and instead of berating myself up it, I referred to myself with the words “mi amor” (yes, I stopped there and then for a little cry). Specifically, I practiced pausing before agreeing to anything, asking myself if said thing was right for me. Specifically, I learned that “no” is a complete sentence, reminding myself (thanks to the the help of a wise friend) that “clear is kind.” Specifically, I put structures in place so that even if things move at a snail’s pace, I am taking steps, however humble, in the direction of my big goals.

I imagine an inner wellspring. Taking into consideration the reality that life will continue to be life-y, no matter how well I take care of myself or how sober I am, boundaries with myself are a way of preserving that wellspring. They are the actions I take to prioritize my inner wellbeing, so that I can trust myself to stand tall and steady no matter the storm. This isn’t about perfection; indeed, I fail at these things all the time, before forgiving myself and getting back on track. This is about being in conversation with myself. This is about, as adrienne maree brown says, “moving at the speed of trust.” This is about being human, and coming home to myself a little more every day. This is about not putting myself above or below anybody else, but right there, eye-to-eye, heart to heart (but with whatever distance my boundaries dictate that I’ll feel safest, HA).

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My arms are still outstretched. The difference is that when I practice boundaries with myself, my palms face toward me. I make a circle with my arms, middle fingers touching, and the space between sternum and palms symbolizes all I must preserve to stay grounded in myself.

Boundaries are a path of discovery. Who am I, whole unto myself, not compromising my integrity because I think it will make someone more comfortable? What am I capable of when I preserve the wellspring, instead of siphoning my resources to every tributary that comes calling? How do I care for myself in a culture that insists that who I am is not enough? How do I move and bend and flow with life, rather than becoming rigid against it?

Here’s my advice: become a redwood tree.

Run your roots wide, let them interconnect, network. Fortify a trunk that can withstand fire, wind, famine. Stretch into branches that move and flow with the elements. Bear witness to the world around you, evolve with your surroundings, participate in the ecosystem, be nothing other than exactly who you are.

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From the archives ~ this time last year:

⭐️Chaos is a Friend of Mine

⭐️Report: 100-Day Social Media Hiatus

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SELF MADE is a newsletter for fellow 🌺late bloomers🌺 with a focus on recovery, creativity and community. It's written by me, Dani, a writer, coach, and recovery advocate in San Francisco, CA. 

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