Writing Prompt #4: We are Boundaried
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I have been a lifelong caretaker, personally and professionally. I have had a hard time being mindful and flexible about boundaries. There were many, many times where things got too tight or too loose, and I boomeranged between the two. When my 3 kids left home, I couldn’t say no to people who needed a place to stay (feeling guilty about living in a house with 3 empty bedrooms), only to feel resentful of them, mad at myself. I solved it by impulsively selling the family home, kicking everyone out and moving into a condo. Kind of extreme, but it was easier than saying no to someone in need.
Things got really out of hand with boundaries in the 9 year period between when my dad and my mom died. It was a long process of learning that there wasn’t a right or wrong response to the many requests/expectations/demands from my mom. It was, I learned, as Susan described today, a daily inquiry, based on the many changing causes and conditions, internal and external. I wanted to relieve my mom’s suffering and loneliness, which to some extent, I could, but only at the expense of feeling like I was losing my own life. When it became clear what to do, I laid down some very specific ground rules. At the end of my mom’s life, our relationship was mended beyond any imagined expectations, and I was lucky to be with her as she took a final peaceful breath.
One last thing (about screens and pets, in response to Diane’s sharing today). On Monday I went to the 9am OHP meditation and then right into the 10am class session. Usually my (indoor) cat sits on my lap during meditation, but he wasn’t there. Turns out he had busted thru a screen window! He had never done that before, in fact, he’s never been outside. Which is why we were shocked to find him meowing at the front door soon after 11. I was so relieved! Before we figured out what happened, my husband I had hurled a number of accusations back and forth about who had let him dash out an open door. Luckily, it ended well. We live on a busy street. It could’ve been otherwise.
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For years, addiction has ruled my family. When I left my hometown 32 years ago, I’d set a boundary, albeit unbeknownst to myself at the time. I was battling my own addictions, and in hindsight, I acknowledge, and thank the many spirits and forces beyond my awareness that plucked me from the likelihood of being swallowed into the vortex of that fate.
Years later, a loved one spiraled into drugs and alcohol and so my sister and I flew down and attempted an intervention. It was a disaster. He confronted us, rather than us confronting him. His message: I love you for doing this, but this is my spiral, my downfall. Tend to your own. Mirror.My last conversation with him before heading back to New York was easily one of the most difficult things I have ever trembled through. I told him I loved him but, and I could not be in contact while he was slowly killing himself. Felt less a boundary, and more a brick wall. Still, he stood there, nearly emaciated, black gunk under his fingernails and toes, life sucked out of his body, he’d aged 20 years in two months. He accepted my terms, repeated that he loved me, and closed the door. Perhaps setting his own boundary.
I suppose I succeeded in setting a boundary that day. What I failed marvelously at was setting a boundary on obsessively thinking about him, replaying the scene of that one call from my parents, or sister, or friend confirming the worst of my fears. Internal boundaries seem impossible, almost laughable in the face of powerlessness. I saw how I was turning boundaries against myself, using them as a litmus for proving how strong or weak I am, how much I love or fail to love someone. Or myself.
Epilogue sans resolution: Today I have a close, intimate, confiding relationship with this loved one. I suspect he still drinks here and there, but the windows of lucidity and deep exchange outweigh the former. And he regained 15 of the 20 years he lost on the frontline. There are far worse casualties than 5 years of one’s life.
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Sometimes allowing my dog Lucy to jump up on neighbors. I assume that they would enjoy that, or I’m just thoughtless. I don’t realize initially that they may have a different relationship with dogs and don’t appreciate that. I’m embarrassed. I need to set boundaries with my dog that ultimately is me setting boundaries and respecting others boundaries.
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During a period of crisis in a long-term relationship, I went to therapy in hopes of working through some of the problems I thought would help resolve this crisis.
The issue of boundaries came in when, after every session with the therapist my partner would grill me about what we talked about. I would try to be vague, but they persisted.
Soon, I started making up topics and conversations on the way home to talk about to appease my partner and maintain my privacy.
Why not just stand my ground? Draw the proverbial line? The emotion of the situation certainly makes it less clear, less easy to explain.That was me then and not the me now. I cringe even writing the words because of how it must sound.
I am better today about boundaries and “sticking up” for myself.
On occasion I can feel something that wants to shift in my body and mind and react in an old way, but I have learned too much about me to falter that much! And it has been this practice that has made the difference..
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