Healthy boundaries have been on my mind lately. How do we develop them? Maintain them? Shift them, when we need to?
I was recently speaking with someone I know well, who I will fictitiously name Toni for the purpose of keeping her identity private. Toni expressed to me some issues she was having with friends of hers who seemed to be seeping a lot of energy from her— calling her too frequently and demanding her attention on a particular matter that required endless attention, mostly because the friends were spiraling around it and it was causing them great discomfort.
But Toni felt put upon. She wanted to be there for them (after all, they had been very good friends to her in the past, especially during periods of transition in her life), but she felt herself being relied on too much, and noticed that her advice wasn’t being heeded, so what was the point?
“Besides,” she told me wearily. “I have my own things going on.”
When Toni brought this issue to me, it sounded very familiar, echoing so many moments in my own life when I was either the needed or needy one. I’ve been on the other end of so many phone calls from people—sometimes, admittedly, people for whom I have a short fuse—talking at me because they need a place to vent, sometimes about the same hardship they’ve spiraled around in a thousand different ways. It can be exhausting.
I can also be exhausting. I’ve for sure been that person time and time again, especially when I was younger or when my life was in upheaval. When I think back to those times, sometimes I hide my face in my hands, remembering how generous some of my friends were and how pathetic I was.
“That wasn’t the real me,” I want to say to them now, as these friends—my chosen family—chuckle at the memories of when I was one giant heap of tears and confusion. They are unflappable, the folx I choose to spend my time around.
But more importantly, they always saw the whole of me—even when they could have reduced my entire self to just that complicated moment of my life.
They never stopped loving me, and they never stopped being compassionate to me.
Compassion and boundaries are not mutually exclusive. This sometimes complicated reality occurs to me now, as Toni confesses to me that she doesn’t know how to handle her friends’ problems, or if she even can. Toni is battling with her own issues—mostly health concerns that are not by medical definition terribly serious, but they greatly impact her day-to-day quality of life. Her issues are sometimes all-consuming, and if I’m going to be totally honest, I’ve had my own fair share of “oh no, not this again!” thoughts when she has called me up, yet again, to talk to me (yet again) about that same exact issue.
So I can’t help but notice the irony when she is relating to me now how her friends are eliciting that same kneejerk feeling of some blend of exhaustion and impatience.
I pride myself on being very good at giving advice to others, but I am also aware that this can be seen as a core tenant of Alanonic behavior. And—as my close friends who have saved the day, or saved me, back when I needed saving—would tell you, I’m not always stellar at taking my own advice. That’s very human, and I’d venture to guess it’s probably something you can relate to. Many of us can dole it out. But can we take it?
So I offer the advice in today’s newsletter, and in all of my newsletters, with a giant heap of humility and self-awareness. I find this particular subject—compassion with boundaries intact—to be a lifelong challenge. But it is something I have worked hard on. As a result, I have, in my toolbelt, many ways of managing this issue. And so, when Toni brought it to me, I did my best to share my experience, strength, and hope (as they say) to try to help her connect with this inner balance, especially when she was feeling pulled in all directions.
It was actually Toni’s idea for me to cover this subject in my newsletter, and so I owe this one to her.
When it comes to finding and asserting your boundaries while maintaining compassion, here are my go-to tips:
Be explicit about what you have to offer, whether that be time-wise or in terms of advice style. Say, “Just so you know, I have just 20 minutes before I have to prepare for my afternoon work meeting, but I’m fully here for that time.” A few minutes before the 20 minutes is up, try to sneak in something like, “Since I have to wrap up in a few minutes, let’s assess where you are now, and what I can do to help you in the remaining few minutes.” When the time is done, be reassuring but don’t linger on the phone. Pay heed to your own boundaries here.
Respect your needs, but don’t become self-involved. One of the best ways to get out of your own head, ironically, is to show up for someone else. So if you’re struggling with your own issues (and who isn’t?), putting them aside long enough to be there for someone else is a true act of kindness—but it can also give you a sense of purpose and perspective.
Be honest with yourself and your friend about what you are capable of. I toyed with whether or not this was the same thing as the item above, but I feel there are enough differences to put it in its own line. If you are a regular reader of my Substack (thank you!), then you know I have struggled with saying “no”—not exactly to other people, but to myself. I don’t always understand the limits of my own energy, so I need to regularly intervene with myself (my friend Myq also intervenes by shooting me random texts and emails reminding me that it’s OK to say “no” … and I love him for it). You can’t exactly respect your own needs if you’re not honest about them first, so the boundaries here really do come back to your own formation of them within you.
Try not to judge the person coming to you with needs or questions. You were there, too, and you will be again. I honestly believe that generosity could single-handedly save our wilting society. I know it can be frustrating to be on the other end of someone who seems to be incapable of shifting their perspective about their problem. We might wind up asking ourselves if they are actually getting more out of staying in the problem rather than clawing their way out. Or we will roll our eyes, or become exasperated. Even if we do find ourselves at our wit’s end with our needy friend, coming back to kindness and generosity can be key—not only so that they can be treated gently (which can be a cue for them to treat themselves with gentleness, too), but it will, in turn, help you maintain your own sanity and boundaries.
Ask them what they need. My not-always-healthy inclination is to just offer advice or to be the “fix-it” person (again with my tried-and-true Alanonic ways). But simply asking them whether they want your take, or simply your ear, can reduce a lot of your own frustration. Sometimes, frequently, all someone wants is to be heard and acknowledged. You can probably be that person for your friend. And my guess is they’ve been that person for you, too.
Bookend your phone calls (or visits, or emails, or what-have-you) with something ritualistic that can help jostle you both into the space where you need to be in order to be fully present with them, as well as jostle you out of it when the conversation is over. Part of understanding boundaries is understanding which problems are your business and which aren’t. Just like a therapist is supposed to do, resist the urge to gossip about someone else’s issue, and instead, hold it sacred. But don’t obsess about it, because you have your own life to live. I find rituals to be useful in letting things in and letting things go. This could mean lighting a candle to signify you are going into your friend’s space now, and then blowing it out when the conversation is over. Or it could be walking around the block, stretching, or physically moving to a different part of your house as a cue to change up the energy.
Limit forms of communication or connection that seep too much energy from you. It’s OK to be self-protective and to self-preserve. For example, I can be very protective over my text time, mostly because I don’t have time to reply in the middle of the day (or sometimes at all). There have admittedly been times when I’ve had to tell people that text is not a great form of communication for me for certain categories of communication (like work, unless there’s an urgent matter). This all boils down to understanding and respecting our own boundaries. (Somewhat relatedly: I actually struggle with this when I get texts in the middle of the day. I try to leave off my notifications, but sometimes I need to check my phone because I work from home and so much is wrapped into my phone—everything from my doorbell alerts to dog-related texts with my wife. I simply can’t reply, oftentimes, to casual texts, since I work all day … and sometimes I worry that I appear rude, so I struggle with kindly asserting my boundaries here, but I have to.)
Let go of your expectations of the outcome. This is the Great Work of My Entire Life, and requires a near-Herculean strength sometimes. During those times I have been the needy one, I had sound friends give me sound advice, sometimes a thousand times, which I almost never took. We are each in our own process and on our own timeline, and ultimately, it is not our business whether someone heeds our words or not. The growth comes in our letting go of the outcome, since ultimately, we don’t know what is best for anyone else but ourselves. That means that you hang up the phone and you radically let go of what happens next—that is, what happens next with your friend’s problem. As for what happens next for you, in your afternoon? That’s all you, my friend.
Some of these are harder than others to practice. And some of these are way easier for me to tell you to do than for me to actually execute with grace. We are, after all, simple human beans with an extraordinary amount of things going on.
And (somehow this feels important) it can be triggering when we are private about our struggles and the next person is loud about theirs. I run into that sometimes; feeling somewhat resentful of a select small group of people who are happy to foist their troubles on me, when on the inside, I might be full of anxiety or turmoil.
But my anxiety isn’t their business; it’s mine. They can’t fix it; only I can. And if they come to me for a friendly ear or seeking compassion, my work is to pull myself the hell out of my head and be fully present for them, perhaps for an allotted period of time.
When that time is over, it is frequently with gratitude and surprising serenity that I return back to me.
xo,
jazz
P.S. My birthday is Saturday. I will be turning 42 somehow. If my newsletter resonates with you and you are receiving it for free, and you are able, I hope you will consider becoming a paid member. Thank you heaps and tons, either way. It means so much to me that you read these words.