On boundaries

August 3rd — At 4:31 AM. Couldn't sleep. These words demanded to be written.

Some posts write themselves. This one asked to be written in the middle of the night.

A few weeks ago, I shared a post about my shadow – The shadow that abandons me to be liked. Since then, I've noticed something: my boundaries have gotten stronger. Not perfect, but solid. 

Let's start from the beginning.

I grew up with a narcissistic grandparent. And if you've experienced narcissism up close, you'll know how violently it invades your space. Your thoughts. Your truth. I grew up to become a boundaryless child. That was my normal, for years. Long into adulthood, I didn't know where I ended and someone else began.

Until I got tired.

Tired of always being the flexible one.
Tired of being "nice" at my own expense.
Tired of abandoning myself.

(I don't know if I'll ever write about narcissism in depth. It's such a heavy subject. I've worked through so much of it in therapy and on my own that it feels almost... exhausting. But never say never. Maybe one day it will flow out of me like this piece did.)

Little by little, I started practicing boundaries. Saying "no." Saying "not this time." For a while, I even pulled away from relationships entirely. That phase wasn't easy, but it helped me separate the real friends from the performative ones. The ones who stayed, and the ones who quietly disappeared. The ones who stayed let me stumble. They gave me space to learn. And I truly love each and every one of them. 

Healing, I've found, sometimes requires swinging from one extreme to another before you find the balance.

Today, I feel more grounded. I can say out loud when something hurts. I can name it when someone crosses a line. And most importantly – I notice it now. That's huge. When you grow up without boundaries, it's normal to be crossed. You don't even realize it's happening. So just noticing is a powerful step.

With strangers, it's easy now. I protect my space without hesitation.
With those closest to me, it still takes effort. But I'm getting better every day.

Maybe that's why boundaries with strangers feel easy now, and why the closest relationships still ask the most of me. Healing starts on the outside. But it settles where it hurts the most.

I'm truly grateful I've been blessed with such a loving and safe partner. With him, learning to set boundaries has felt like something I get to practice – not something I have to survive. That, too, is healing.

The most important lesson I've learned in therapy so far is this: we heal in connection.
Because it's often the closest relationships that bring our deepest wounds to the surface, not to break us, but so we can finally see them, feel them, and begin to truly heal.

If you struggle with boundaries, I see you.
It takes a lot of practice.
And conscious choices.

When something inside you whispers this doesn't feel right, or that hurt me — listen to it. That voice is sacred. Trust it. You have every right to protect your peace.

And please remember: someone else's reaction to your boundary is not your responsibility. If you grew up in a boundaryless home like I did, you might feel responsible for how others react. You might even carry a deep fear of upsetting or disappointing someone, just by choosing yourself.

But you are not responsible for their feelings. You cannot control how someone receives your boundary, you can only stay soft and firm in it.

It takes work, I know. Sometimes it means uncomfortable conversations. Sometimes it means quietly leaving a room or even a relationship. It might feel extreme. But sometimes, it's the only way to preserve your inner calm. And what could be more sacred than that.

Because when you set a boundary, you're not just telling the other person how to treat you.
You're telling yourself that you are worthy of protection.
That you are on your own side.
And with you — you are safe.

Have you also learned to set boundaries as an adult? Or are you one of the lucky ones who learned this early, whose boundaries were respected and modeled at home, so it now comes naturally? Either way, I'd love to hear your story.

Feel free to share in the comments or send me a quiet message on Instagram @selflavie.
You are not alone. And you are allowed to take up space.

Soft hugs,
Selflavie