Safe Healthy Boundaries

Main Entry: bound·ary
Pronunciation: \ˈbau̇n-d(ə-)rē\
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural bound·aries
Etymology: 2bound + 1-ary
Date: 1598: something that indicates or fixes a limit or extent (source: Merriam Webster’s online dictionary)

Boundaries are important. Not that I am huge Phil McGraw fan, but I do believe that we teach people how to treat us. I believe that ONE of the reasons I ended up in such a horrible depression was my inability to set healthy boundaries. During this time in my life, I still had a relationship with my father. I was determined to have a father in my life. The fact that my father was like a rabid dog didn’t seem to deter me from my goal. My father has no concept of honoring boundaries. The world and all its people were put here solely for his entertainment – or so he thinks.
Dad struggled to get along with his sister because she is the Queen of healthy boundaries. I hope I can continue to be more like her. Anyway, he would get into it with her, call me and ask me to fix it. I would call her and help make peace between them. He told me my role in our family was the peacemaker and I accepted what he said. He is a genius so he must know what he is talking about. Right?

Unfortunately, I fit into the classic behavior pattern of an adult survivor of childhood abuse. I had low self image. I was the daughter of an alcoholic, drug addict father and clearly had co-dependant behavior. I was determined to be the best at everything – even at my own expense. I needed to be a people pleaser in order to feel worth anything. As an adult survivor/victim, I had mastered the ability of repeating (in my own head) all the abusive words my abusers had inflicted on me in my childhood. If I felt I didn’t measure up, their words rewound and repeated as many times as I felt I deserved to hear them. My own mind continued the abuse they had started. I was like a tape recorder with all their meanness replaying through my brain. I was programmed to believe that I was less than I needed to be. I wasn’t good enough. I was a dirty drug dealer’s daughter – a slut and a whore. I was a dirty polygamist. I didn’t deserve anything better than bad. I often expected the worst and life delivered it to me like a self fulfilling prophecy.

To make up for my feelings of unworthiness, I did all I could to please others, even when pleasing them was detrimental to me. If someone called and asked, “Can you watch my kids, clean the church, make 40 pounds of potatoes, take a meal to a sick family, referee a fight between siblings, make a cake for a funeral, do some mending, make skirts for a dance recital, help a neighbor move, help with a class party, make floral arrangements for a wedding, etc, etc, etc.,” I cheerfully answered, “Yes.” But then afterwards, I often did the task begrudgingly. I knew I took on too much, but I couldn’t say no.

At the end of my first marriage, I had to begin creating healthy boundaries. It didn’t happen over night, but my time at the edge of the cliff and subsequent therapy taught me that I had to teach people how to treat me. I began with my in-laws. I refused to spend any time in their home. I was done being treated like I was evil if I spoke my mind. I am an opinionated person. Being around these people was poison to my soul. After my divorce, one of my church advisors told me that he could see that I liked to help others and be involved, but he said, “As a single working mom who is going to school, you have to say no to people. The most important thing you can do is give your time to yourself and children. Don’t feel badly if you need to say no to everyone else.” The very next night I was invited to help plan the Halloween party. It would be during midterms. I remembered the kind counsel of my leader and politely said, “No.” It felt good.

Setting healthy boundaries with my dad was harder. I was so conditioned to his vulgarity and crudeness toward me that I just chalked up his behavior to him being him. During this time, my oldest daughter seemingly developed breasts over night. When we went to visit Dad and Grandma, he took one look at her and said, “OOOwww Weee; look at the horns on her.” I was completely horrified. Dad had always been sexually inappropriate with me and I accepted it, but when he directed his filthy mind towards my daughter, I learned an important lesson: It is never okay for a father or grandfather to be sexual towards his daughter or grand daughter – not ever! That was the last time I saw my father outside of a courtroom. I could no longer stand to be around him. The magnitude of what he really was hit me hard that day.

From that day forward, I became better about boundaries. If someone crosses them, they pretty much know it right now. If someone is inappropriate with me, I say, “That is completely inappropriate,” in a very firm manner. I know that some may say that I am not as easy going as I used to be, but I am happier, and I feel safer. When I set and keep boundaries, I am less likely to have switching of alters where I lose time. We are more than willing to set safe, healthy boundaries for our children, but often we neglect to set them for ourselves and the other “adults” in our lives. Clearly defined boundaries are good; they keep us safe, and they eliminate the resentment we feel toward others when we don’t have safe boundaries.