When Tara works out what boundary she needed with a difficult housemate, she discovers the specific rule — “it’s Saturday, please don’t come by” — isn’t actually the boundary. Underneath any particular boundary is a deeper one: the felt knowing that you are allowed to have boundaries at all.
“The actual boundary isn’t about Saturday or Sunday. It’s I get my boundaries.”
This reframe changes everything about why we cling to resentment. We hold the charge — “they’re bad,” “that wasn’t okay” — to protect ourselves from being hurt again. But once you trust that you get your boundaries, that protection becomes unnecessary. You no longer need to make the other person wrong in order to keep yourself safe, because you know you can simply say “this doesn’t work for me” whenever the familiar pattern shows up.
She also frames finding the boundary as iterative identity work: you try one, see if it fits, and keep adjusting — maybe through ten wrong tries — until your gut says “that’s the boundary.” The skill being built isn’t the specific rule; it’s the standing capacity to have boundaries.
“I get to be iterative here. This is changing my identity. So, I’m going to try a boundary… and I don’t have to get it right on the first try.”
Related Concepts
- Blame and resentment stand in for a boundary you haven’t set
- What’s scariest about boundaries is the freedom on the other side
- Saying no restores agency and reconnects you to your want
- Boundary firmness eliminates fear of attack
- Resentment points to unexpressed wants, not always boundaries
- Boundaries are primarily for you, not the other person
- Boundaries say what you will do, not what they must do