How do I hold boundaries with people who loved the version of me that always said yes?

"How do I hold boundaries with people who loved the version of me that always said yes?"

Let me tell you about the baseboards.

I was in real estate for years, and for a long stretch some of my family lived in houses I owned, moving from one to the next. It was a fun adventure for us, and I always said yes: I love them, and I wanted to provide that. Then came the house I needed to sell. This time the yes wasn't there. It was time to help them find a great place, just not one I owned. They were not happy. And I had to do something I'd never really done with them: hold the boundary and, of course, hold my heart open at the same time.

They didn't make it easy. One day a realtor who showed the house told me the baseboards were dirty. My family didn't want cleaners coming in, and they didn't want to clean it themselves. So I told them I was coming over. I showed up with a rag and a bucket of water, got down on my hands and knees, and gently cleaned all the baseboards in the house while they watched, confused and frustrated. They weren't used to me not saying yes. So I cleaned, and I breathed very slowly in that uncomfortable setting, as I took the actions I knew would move things forward.

That afternoon, a buyer walked through with her realtor. My family told me they spoke Spanish to each other, thinking nobody there would understand it (my family did). I asked, "So what did they say in Spanish?" They said: "These are the cleanest baseboards I have ever seen." We all paused, looked around the room at each other, and started laughing out loud. The next day, another buyer came through and bought the house. My family landed in a better place, and I bought another place that could serve a larger community, which was my vision the whole time, whether they could see it in that moment or not. I knew it. So I could hold it.

That's the real power of a boundary: not holding it with grasping and tightness and frustration, but holding it with structure and integrity, the way your bones hold up your body. A great boundary is held like bone, not like a fist.

Maybe you know the slow ache of realizing that what people are used to expecting from you doesn't exist in your new operating system. And the people who love and expect that from you happen to be your closest people. Inner circle. Family, friends, partners, kids.

Here's the thing: you're a great person. A kind one, a generous one. And a smart one, one who has decided to grow, to learn, to change, and to stop being determined by the past. And then you realize that these people you love, the ones you move mountains for, may not really want you to change. Because the change is someone they don't know. And they may not be interested in changing.

So now you're saying "no" more often (we talked about this last week), so you can actually say "yes" to a bigger, better, more beautiful life. But some of these wonderful people have no idea what's going on, and they don't seem too interested in learning about it. You want boundaries. But you don't want uncrossable borders keeping people out. You want connection that is deeper than surface level.

So how do you hold boundaries without building borders?

By having a dream for your life that is bigger, better, and braver than all the small yesses that were never really congruent anyway. A dream that includes your people; they're part of the vision. That's exactly why the old carousel of automatic yesses has to stop: it hasn't brought relief or rejuvenation to any of you. And when there is one real and true yes in your life, an honest yes with real substance, the un-honest yesses are seen for what they are and for the pain they cause. When you can see this, they become like a dandelion puffball in summer: one breath, and every little seed (every unreal yes) scatters into the wind.

I'm sure if you look back, you'll find a time you held a boundary you knew you needed, even when someone else didn't understand it. Look at it now: it was for the greater good. That's the key. You can hold a boundary when you truly understand that everyone wins by you having that kind of courage.

And your body already knows which yesses are real. Think of one that's expected of you (maybe even by you). Notice: does it constrict, tighten, uninspire? That's not a yes. That's a script from the old movie. Don't typecast yourself into a role just because you got good at playing it.

In the yoga I teach, we work with framing and squaring the body, giving ourselves boundaries that provide greater freedom, because that's what great boundaries do. A real boundary is not a wall to keep people out, but a form that frees what's inside. A house needs walls and doors.

Try this boundary practice:

Box breathing is used to calm the nervous system, reduce stress, and improve mental focus. All three are needed to stay centered and hold your boundaries.

Sit up straight in a chair, feet on the floor, hip distance apart. Bring your attention to your breath, and feel your belly rise and fall as you breathe. Now add your imagination: inhale a real yes. Exhale a false one. Two minutes, four rounds:

Inhale for four. Hold the breath in for four. Exhale for four. Hold the breath out for four.

What do you notice, after four rounds?

The next time one of your people reaches for an old yes, take one box breath before you answer.

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Sending love,
Wendy