Where The Line Is
There’s a lot of talk these days about personal boundaries, and not just the physical kind.
The new boundaries are ones people can’t see. Instead, they’re felt, often communicated indirectly, the lines often drawn without warning.
Boundaries are good things. They are meant for protection. They keep the issuer of said boundaries in a safe space.
At work, I’ve drawn boundaries for those people who steal my ideas and doubt my abilities.
In my family, I’ve drawn boundaries for those members who only take, but never give. I’ve drawn a boundary around video games and Nerf guns, even though my children play with them.
“Not for me,” I say.
With my wife, I steer clear when she’s asking (but not asking) for space. That’s her boundary.
That’s the odd thing about boundaries. They’re drawn, then they’re erased. New ones are created, or the old ones come back.
For example, my middle sister won’t reply to the text threads that we siblings are on. My older sister and I figured out that our middle sister doesn’t want to be part of it. And that’s fine. That’s her boundary.
Boundaries come in all forms. They can be forbidden words or rules of the road. They can be unspoken codes or implied wishes. They can be about verbal communication or physical touch.
As I learn more about interpersonal relationships and the ways to navigate them, I go back to a maxim that always seems to help: read the room.
In the case of boundaries, I suppose it’s: find out where the line is, and don’t cross it. Or if you have to, ask permission.
Also, be patient. Those boundaries that I have created may one day wither away. And those boundaries that someone else has drawn might also be erased, or they may get thicker.
Either way, they’re meant for personal protection, and these days, that’s about all we have left in the world.
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This Post is republished on Medium.
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Photo credit: Unsplash