I met a survivor last week. He was trying to free himself from the wreckage, not from an accident or illness, but from the people in his life. Important people.
Listening to him, I saw his anger weaving a thick shroud to protect a deep wound.
Throughout the years, this man has gone through boxes of emotional Band-Aids, from music to muses, vehicles to vacations, overworking to overthinking. The barometer of his happiness was regulated by the contentment of those he loved. So, he worked harder than most, even to the detriment of his physical and mental health.
In his efforts to satisfy others, he lost his barometer. He lost himself.
He became a man who lived in a gorgeous home but never felt at home.
His generosity came with no strings, yet he felt tethered to no one in this pattern of providing. His family loved him, no doubt. Yet, he often felt dismissed until someone needed something.
I call him a survivor because he survives in this subconscious pattern of existence, like a machine plugged into an outlet. He goes through the motions until, once every year or so, he feels like he did last week as he sat before me: disconnected.
While discussing how he feels detached and undervalued, he confessed that he does so much because he loves and cares deeply for his family. He does not want to fail them, nor does he want to see them struggle. And yet, admittedly, he struggles and feels like a failure.
“What did I do wrong?” he asked. “Why don’t I get anything in return? Not that getting something in return is a requirement, but a little attention would be nice. A little contact — a real conversation.”
He stopped talking, and I could tell he wished he had not said so much. He clenched his jaw before rising from his seat. “I hate complaining. It’s useless. This is my life. I created it. I just need to shut up. Tomorrow is a new day. It’ll be better.”
I remained seated, unsure if he would wait for me or leave me alone at the table. As he pulled his car keys from his front jeans pocket, I took it as a sign that this conversation was over in his mind.
“You’re right,” I said too quickly and a little too loud. “You’re absolutely right.”
He looked at me, baffled by my response. I could tell he was irritated. I continued.
“You’re right in what you said: you created this. You have created your reality. Your actions are rooted in love but are without healthy boundaries.”
He put his keys back in his pocket and looked at me sternly. “I don’t have time to be a lab rat. I’m already in that maze, and I’m not finding a way out.”
I did my best to ignore his anger and speak to his hurt more than his tone and choice of words.
“I’m not trying to do anything but respond to what you’ve shared — no more than that. I don’t want anything from you or need anything from you. You’re free to walk away just as much as you’re free to sit back down. Your choice.”
He sat back down.
His silence had heat, and I felt the fever of his wound.
Until this man decided to create boundaries, I knew he would remain unhealthy, exhausted, and discouraged.
“Healthy relationships have similar aspects,” I began. “Most would agree this includes loyalty, security, providing comfort, effective and respectful communication, being emotionally present, joyful interactions, and verbal and physical support. Do you agree?”
“Yes.”
“Do you feel you have these in your most significant relationships?”
“Some of those things you mentioned, yes. Most of them, no.”
“What would making a boundary look like to you to have healthier connections?” I asked. “You entered into these relationships and offered yourself freely from a position of love, yet I fear you now give more from a position of obligation.”
“There is still love,” he said.
“But as the years stack up, I feel more obligated and less appreciated. There are very few people I can say I enjoy being around anymore, even those I love,” he continued.
“Boundaries are about changing your behavior when they are crossed. They are not created to punish or serve as a wake-up call to another. If you do not set, communicate, and put action behind your boundaries, you risk losing yourself to the point of pushing away the very people you love the most.”
His sad, tired eyes gave me a long stare before he spoke. “I’m close to being at that point.”
“You have allowed your kindness to be taken advantage of. Not saying that gives someone carte blanche to run all over you, but it does allow you to make some changes.”
“What kind of changes?”
“That is up to you. I would suggest starting with identifying your most important wants and needs and then not being afraid to share these with your loved ones.”
“That will go in one ear and out the other,” he said.
“Only if you do not put action behind your boundaries. It is okay to say, ‘This is not working for me,’ or ‘I don’t like the direction things have been going.’ It is okay to prioritize what you need to feel seen and heard, and it is certainly okay to express these needs. By not doing so, you cheat your loved ones of the opportunity to honor you and your boundaries. And if they choose not to, you can decide how to respond. You can take ownership of your headspace and protect yourself.”
I have been thinking about this man since we spoke. I do not know if I will see him again, and that is not important. However, in our short meeting, he became important to me.
I saw a little of me in him and was thankful for the reminder that boundaries offer more growth opportunities; without them, we diminish and dilute our purpose, spreading ourselves too thin.
I want to be more than a survivor in this life. I want to be who God intended me to be. This requires putting into practice being tethered to God above all, self-awareness, reflection and assessment, boundaries, and mindfulness of how I will change my behavior when others disregard my boundaries.
May we set aside time this week to look at our personal health and the health of our relationships, asking God to direct us from simply surviving to thriving.
This column was initially published by CherryRoad Media. ©Tiffany Kaye Chartier.
