Boundaries Part IV: Why Teach Children Boundaries?

In studying my own blurred boundaries, there has been one major issue nagging at me, begging to be written. This is the issue of teaching boundaries to my children. I want to first address the reason we, as parents, should feel compelled to help our kids become competent at constructing and maintaining boundaries. (My next boundary-related blog post will focus on how to do so.) Cloud & Townsend (1992) said it best: “Of all the areas in which boundaries are crucially important, none is more relevant than that of raising children. How we approach boundaries and child rearing will have enormous impact on the characters of our kids. On how they develop values. On how well they do in school. On friends they pick. On whom they marry. And on how well they do in a career” (p.168).

As a compliant person, who fears telling others “no,” I also fear I am creating kids who will imitate my behavior and thereby struggle with their school or career performance and relationships. Admittedly, I have been a pretty controlling parent, expecting exact and prompt obedience from my children. There are some benefits to this training—such as during times of emergency and during, well, other times of, say, an emergency. Yeah, pretty much, I realize that in teaching my children to obey regardless of their desires or preferences, I am teaching them to be just like me. “When parents teach children that setting boundaries or saying no is bad, they are teaching them that others can do with them as they wish. They are sending their children defenseless into a world that contains much evil. … To feel safe in an evil world, children need to have the power to say things like: ‘No,’ ‘I disagree,’ ‘I will not,’ ‘I choose not to,’ ‘Stop that,’ ‘It hurts,’ ‘It’s wrong,’ ‘That’s bad,’ ‘I don’t like it when you touch me there.’ Blocking a child’s ability to say no handicaps that child for life. Adults with handicaps … [don’t] say no to bad things” (Cloud & Townsend, 1992, p.50).

I remember a time in my parenting when I understood this better. My oldest was young, maybe one or two years old. A relative tried to coerce my son into giving them a hug and a kiss as we left their home, and he didn’t want to. The whole situation made me uncomfortable for several reasons: 1) I wanted this relative to feel close to and have a loving relationship with my son, 2) I wanted my son to love and feel close to this relative, and 3) I believed instinctively if a child were compelled to show affection to any adult they could become an easy target for a sexual predator in the future.

The scenario of the family member demanding the affection, my son throwing a fit and trying to get away, gave me such anxiety. Some moms are overprotective about germs, demanding that friends and family members sanitize their entire bodies before coming into contact with their child. Some moms are overprotective about physical danger, not allowing their child to even leave the house without a helmet and every square inch of their limbs Velcroed with padded gear. And then, some moms are overprotective about emotional danger caused by pedophiles and perverts, not allowing their child to have sleep-overs and giving the “good touch/bad touch” lesson on a weekly basis. That mom would be me. Sadly, I have virtually stolen the strongest protection I could have given my sons in this regard: the ability to say “no.”

In Proverbs 22:6 it reads: “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.”  However, according to Cloud & Townsend (1992), “Many parents misunderstand this passage. They think ‘the way he should go’ means ‘the way we, the parents think he (or she) should go.’ … The verse actually means ‘the way God has planned for him (or her) to go.’ In other words, good parenting isn’t emotionally bludgeoning the child into some clone or ideal of the perfect child. It’s being a partner in helping young ones discover what God intended for them to be and helping them reach that goal” (p.62-63).

The task of helping my boys discover God’s plan for them seems nearly impossible when I realize that I have no clue what God wants me to be. It reminds me of the time I helped coach a little league basketball team. A friend, and highly-skilled basketball player, had signed up to coach a little league boys’ basketball team. He realized, because of his work responsibilities, he wouldn’t be able to attend every practice or game, and asked if I would help coach. For anyone who knows me, this scenario is fairly comical, since I am one of the most uncoordinated, un-athletic people in the world (I trip over invisible lines). In fact, the likelihood that any of the ten-year-old boys I was coaching could beat me was virtually guaranteed. However, I was eager to help out my friend and hoped the saying, “Those who can’t do, teach,” would apply in a positive way.

In the end, my friend only made it to a few of the practices and games. My sister, who is only slightly less uncoordinated than I, helped me make sure we were following the rules and giving the kids equal playing time. Sadly, our team lost every game. It was rough. Some might say we were stacked with a group of unskilled and uncoordinated players. However, I prefer to blame the coach: me. While I had a basic knowledge of the rules of basketball (I had even played little league ball as a kid), knowledge of rules isn’t equivalent to having an understanding of skill development, comprehending offensive/defensive strategy, or realizing what natural talents each player possessed and helping to hone them. And, that’s exactly how I feel about helping my children through this journey of life.

Often, it seems I am coaching them alone, helping them to do the drills of praying, reading scriptures, going to church – the same drills I ran as a child – and they still might lose the game, either because I am too uncoordinated and inconsistent or because I lack crucial knowledge to help them be successful … Eventually, I realize I am not coaching them alone, because I have a myriad of family, friends, and church members helping me out. Moreover, I remember how blessed I am to have someone more knowledgeable than I who is really the one running the drills, sharing the rule book, and calling the plays.

One of my biggest boundary issues with my children is that I lack consistency, especially with my youngest. Cloud & Townsend (1992) would point out that when “parents combine strict and lax limits, [they are] sending conflicting messages to children. The children don’t know what the rules of family and life are” (p.80). I know I was much more consistent with my oldest children, but when number three came along and I didn’t grow a third arm, it seems I lost my ability to follow through. Consequences became either vague threats or inappropriately harsh. The poor boy doesn’t know when it’s safe to do anything, because, for example, sitting on the counter top is okay on one day and the next day it’s not. The “counter top” could be a metaphor for just about everything with this kid! “Good child rearing involves both preventive training and practice, and correctional consequences” (p.171). In other words, discipline. “The positive facets of discipline are proactivity, prevention, and instruction” (p.170).

“Discipline is an external boundary, designed to develop internal boundaries in our children. It provides a structure of safety until the child has enough structure in his character to not need it. Good discipline always moves the child toward more internal structure and more responsibility” (p.171).

Unfortunately for my boys, I have done little to teach them discipline; instead I have taught them to fear punishment. “Punishment is paying for wrongdoing. Legally, it’s paying a penalty for breaking the law. Punishment doesn’t leave a lot of room for practice, however. It’s not a great teacher. … Punishment does not leave much room for mistakes. … Discipline is not payment for a wrong. It’s the natural law of God: our actions reap consequences” (p.171, 172). It is time for me to determine the natural consequences involved with my sons' behavior and allow them to learn from their experiences where appropriate. It’s not like my kids are out killing people or burning down buildings and need punishment. However, we have our share of lying and hitting—both, which could easily be seen as punishable, but that will not teach them anything. I need to allow the consequences to teach.

Today in church, the women's lesson was about the joy of working hard. One mother talked about how they used the concept of service not only to reframe work or chores, but also in the process of forgiveness. For example, if one of her kids had hurt (emotionally, physically, or otherwise) a sibling, the sibling who had been hurt was encouraged to do a secret act of service for the offending child (such as make his/her bed, fold clothes, etc.). This softened the hearts of both children—but more so the child who had been offended. This approach reminded me of a former student talking about conflict in his home. His parents’ solution was to sit the two fighting children together on one step of the stairway, where they were made to either hug or hold hands. They were not allowed to leave the step until they had resolved the issue, and once it was resolved, they were to leave it at the stairs. He said at first they sat there for long periods of time, each refusing to work through the anger or frustration. Eventually, however, they learned to work through conflict quickly, communicating openly, and he said they always felt increased love for the other.

Now, I’m not so sure I would have performed well in either household—being the stubborn soul I am, I imagine if I were compelled to do service for my sister with whom I’d just gotten in a fight, I might plant a few forks under her bed covers. And, if I had to sit and "hug it out" with my brother, it’s likely we would have either sat there until we fell asleep or one of us ended up needing medical attention. Maybe I underestimate the power of these methods. I also imagine, if I were hugging it out with someone, it could quickly turn comedic, and laughter is good medicine no matter what the conflict.

But, back to boundaries (maybe I never left). Cloud & Townsend (1992) also point out that, “Boundaries are our way of protecting and safeguarding our souls. … And skills such as saying no, telling the truth, and maintaining physical distance need to be developed in the family structure to allow the child to take on the responsibility of self-protection” (p.173). When it comes to a child and his physical space (even his body), he needs to have to power to say “no” or “enough is enough.” How many times were we tickle-tortured as children, and truly it was torture, to the point of crying or, worse even, wetting our pants? I was tickled so much by “loving” uncles, aunts, cousins, and others that I am hardly ticklish anymore. When I was first married, my husband tried to tickle me and instead of eliciting a fun and playful response, he was met with anger, bordering on violence. When we had our own children, I was diligent about respecting my sons’ “no” when it came to tickling, often playing the referee and calling “time-out” on the tickler, making sure they realized my boys were no longer enjoying the game. However, just because I allowed my sons to say no in this instance, doesn’t mean I had taught them to really be responsible for themselves.

In Boundaries, the story of two boys, Jimmy and Paul, gave me as close to a crystal ball look into my sons’ future as I think I can get:

Jimmy’s family allowed disagreements between parent and child and gave him practice in the skill of boundary setting, even with them. … he could say no. This little word gave him a sense of power in his life. It took him out of a helpless or compliant position. … [he had] permission to disagree. … they never withdrew or punished him for disagreeing. Instead, they would listen to his reasoning, and, if it seemed appropriate, they would change their minds. If not, they would maintain their boundaries. Jimmy was also given a vote in some family matters. … He didn’t fear abandonment in standing up against his friends. He’d done it many times successfully with his family with no loss of love. (p.174-175)

 [Paul’s] mom would be hurt and withdraw and pout. She would send guilt messages. … to have his way, he had to be externally compliant. He developed a strong yes on the outside … Whatever he thought about a subject … he stuffed inside. … Day by day, Paul was being trained to not set limits. As a result of his learned boundarylessness, Paul seemed to be a content, respectful son. … Resentment and the years of not having boundaries were beginning to erode the compliant, easy-to-live-with false self he’d developed to survive. (p.175)

The word that stands out in Paul’s story is “seemed.” I don’t want my sons to “seem” to be content or respectful, I want them to truly be happy, to respect other’s opinions, but also to respect themselves enough to stand up for what they believe.

I have to get a handle on my own boundaries, so I can help my sons to be successful in setting their own, because “the second fruit of boundary development in our children [is]: the ability to take ownership of, or responsibility for, our own needs. God intends for us to know when we’re hungry, lonely, in trouble, overwhelmed, or in need of a break – and then to take initiative to get what we need” (p.176). I think I have trained my boys, especially my oldest, to be better at recognizing and accommodating the needs of others than recognizing their own needs. For example, my two youngest had expressed a desire to go hang out one afternoon with their dad. My oldest hadn’t said much, so I decided to figure out what he was thinking.

“Did you want to go with your dad, too?”

He nodded sheepishly, and cautiously said, “Yes.”

Concerned, I continued, “Then why didn’t you say you wanted to?”

“Because,” he explained, “I didn’t want you to be left all alone … really, it’s okay, Mom. I don’t need to go. I will just stay and hang out with you.”

I was filled with mixed emotions. First, I felt a great love because of the tenderness of my son, who was more concerned with his mom’s feelings than with himself. He wasn’t playing the martyr, he was sincere in his love and worry. Second, I felt intense guilt that I had betrayed him in some way, leading him to think he couldn’t do what he wanted because he had an obligation to me. Of course, I reassured him I would be fine and that he could go or stay; whatever he wanted. Ultimately, the outing with Dad didn’t happen, so the choice never had to be made.

“Our limits create spiritual and emotional space, a separateness, between ourselves and others. This allows our needs to be heard and understood. Without a solid sense of boundaries, it becomes difficult to filter out our needs from those of others. There is too much static in the relationship. When children can be taught to experience their own needs, as opposed to those of others, they have been given a genuine advantage in life. They are able to better avoid the burnout that comes from not taking care of one’s self. … The best thing a parent can do is to encourage verbal expression of those needs, even when they don’t ‘go with the family flow.’ When children have permission to ask for something that goes against the grain – even though they might not receive it – they develop a sense of what they need” (p.177).

I believe this “going against the grain” also includes emotions. Often, we tell our children they are not allowed to feel a certain way about something—maybe not directly, but we tell them to “stop crying, quit being a baby, not to get so upset, change the attitude, stop whining, calm down, mellow out, watch the tone, smile, laugh” … the list could probably fill an entire page. Just because we tell them to feel a certain way (positive or negative) doesn’t mean they do, and them pretending they do is only aiding their acting (and lying) skills. This is something I need to be better about; I need to allow my sons to feel however they feel about life, and then seek to understand why they feel that way.

So, why teach children boundaries? I think this question can be summed up with one quote: “Developing boundaries in young children is that proverbial ounce of prevention. If we teach responsibility, limit setting, and delay of gratification early on, the smoother our children’s later years of life will be. The later we start, the harder we and they have to work” (p.170).

And, ain’t that the truth? This is hard work.

Boundaries Part III: Setting Boundaries

I recently read that a successful woman does not "continually [dwell] on her past difficulties. You cannot allow your negative experiences to color the way you live your life today." I agree and disagree. All our past experiences are for our "profit and learning." I believe we are given or allowed to go through certain life experiences to teach us, and if we don't learn it the first time, I believe the lesson gets repeated and often more intensely until we do learn. Some of those lessons can be from positive experiences, but I think if we are sufficiently humbled and teachable profound learning can come from negative life events.

While it does little service to dwell on past experiences, it seems impossible to figure out where I need to go, without looking at where I've been. I hope those of you who are reading my blog do not believe I am mired in the muck of my former follies. Rather, this blog is an attempt to make conscious changes to my previous (and often destructive) way of thinking. I do not want to the problems in my past to perpetuate, therefore I must change my behaviors; but in order to change my behaviors, I must change my attitude; and in order to change my attitude, I must change my beliefs; and in order to change my beliefs, I must change the way I think; and to change the way I think, I need new information and a new internal dialogue. (Enter Mind Over Mood by Greenberger and Padesky [1995] … but more to come on that in future posts.)

One of the problem areas in my life I am on a quest to change is my blurry boundaries. According to Cloud and Townsend (1992), "The first step in establishing boundaries is becoming aware of old family patterns that you are still continuing in the present. Look at the struggles you are having with boundaries in your family of origin, identify which laws are being broken, and then pinpoint the resulting negative fruit in your life. ... Look at your own life situation and see where boundary problems exist with your parents and siblings. The basic question is this: Where have you lost control of your property? Identify those areas and see their connection with the family you grew up in, and you are on your way” (p.130, 133).

It is important I stop believing I am a victim of other's boundary issues and realize I am the problem. Cloud and Townsend (1992) remind us, “[we] do not act in inappropriate ways for no reason. [We] are often trying to meet some underlying need that [our] family of origin did not meet. Maybe we are still entangled because of a need to be loved, or approved of, or accepted. ... It is not enough to understand your need. You must get it met” (p.133). Sadly, in the past when the people I wanted to show this love, approval, and acceptance did not, I slipped into despair and I searched out self destructive sources to meet my needs.

This brings me back to the situation with my friend (See Boundaries Part I.): Should I have told her “yes” even when I believed I was not in a position to help her? Guaranteed, had I said “yes” I would have taken a sacrificial (not compassionate) position, and resented having to postpone my own plans in order to take care of her needs. In Bonds that Make Us Free, Warner (2001) proposes that “[taking] up a hard, resentful attitude toward others is to have to live in a resented world, a world full of people who oppose and threaten us. How they are in our eyes is reflective of how we are. The punishment for self-betrayal is having to live, in this resented world, a life that’s far more difficult than it needs to be” (p.53). Therefore, my resentment in giving an obligatory “yes,” causes me to suffer a more difficult life.

Warner (2001) also suggests “Self-betrayal occurs when we … do to another what we sense we should not do, or don’t do what we sense we should. … The personal obligations we feel to one another, soul to soul, call us to give of ourselves without reserve. Anything less … is self betrayal” (p.20, 22). Furthermore, “People who own their lives do not feel guilty when they make choices about where they are going. They take other people into consideration, but when they make choices for the wishes of others, they are choosing out of love, not guilt; to advance a good, not to avoid being bad” (Cloud and Townsend, 1992, p.124). Obviously, I had not taken the steps to own my life as I acted more out of guilt and out of not wanting to seem bad. So, how do I say “yes” out of willing compassion? How do I learn to say “no” in appropriate situations? How do I set boundaries that will keep me from betraying myself?

Cloud and Townsend (1992) propose that “establishing boundaries in thinking involves three things.

1. We must own our own thoughts. Many people have not taken ownership of their own thinking processes. They are mechanically thinking the thoughts of others without ever examining them. They swallow others’ opinions and reasonings, never questioning and ‘thinking about their thinking.’ …

2. We must grow in knowledge and expand our minds. …

3. We must clarify distorted thinking. We all have a tendency to not see things clearly, to think and perceive in distorted ways. Probably the easiest distortions to notice are in personal relationships. We rarely see people as they really are; our perceptions are distorted by past relationships and our own preconceptions of who we think they are, even the people we know best. (Matt. 7:3-5).

... Taking ownership of our thinking in relationships requires being active in checking out where we may be wrong. As we assimilate new information, our thinking adapts and grows closer to reality. Also we need to make sure that we are communicating our thoughts to others. … We have our own thoughts, and if we want others to know them, we must tell them” (p.45-46).

Throughout my life, I have passively avoided communicating my boundaries, choosing instead to ignore or retreat into obscurity. When I have tried to verbalize my boundaries, the other party usually pretended to understand, but continued to violate them. Perhaps I was not believable, or maybe as the strength of my fences were tested, they were found to be flimsy and full of holes. Regardless, I have not yet found a way to firmly convey the seriousness of these boundaries.

For example, I had a friend who grew to need my attention, affirmations, support, and communication more than was appropriate or possible to give. When I wasn't available, I was made to feel guilty, as if I were a terrible friend for abandoning them. Finally, when the situation had grown too destructive, I verbalized my boundaries, asking this friend to not contact me for awhile, with no guarantee of ever being able to communicate again as we had. Still, I received texts, phone calls, and emails of apology, filled with baited stories and attempts to draw me out of my retreat. My boundaries had been clearly verbalized, but they had not been respected. Cloud and Townsend (1992) admonish: “We need to respect the boundaries of others. We need to love the boundaries of others in order to command respect for our own. We need to treat their boundaries the way we want them to treat ours” (p.90). Perhaps, I was suffering from a little Boundary Karma.

At first, I found it difficult to reject the calls, ignore the texts, and refuse to respond to my friend’s emails. I realized I missed the interaction, the dependency, the feeling of being needed, loved, and important. Giving up a person who helped meet many of my emotional needs, regardless of how destructive the situation had been, was intensely painful. Often, the perceived loneliness was suffocating. However, with each email I ignored and each call I rejected, I became stronger and more determined to follow through with the boundaries I had set.

Cloud and Townsend (1992) remind me that “[I] own [my] boundaries. They don’t own [me]. If [I] set limits with someone, and she responds maturely and lovingly, [I] can renegotiate the boundary. In addition, [I] can change the boundary if [I am] in a safer place” (p.120). In this instance, my friend did not respond “maturely and lovingly,” and I do not believe I am in a safer place emotionally … yet; therefore, at this point, the boundary cannot be renegotiated. More importantly, in the process I realized the biggest boundary I needed to set was on myself, more than on my friend.

Learning to delay gratification, control appetites, or simply put aside our own desires (even those that may be good) which would not be wise to follow, will help us to strengthen our boundaries with others. “We need to have spaces inside ourselves where we can have a feeling, an impulse, or a desire, without acting it out. We need self-control, without repression. … We need to be able to say no to ourselves” (p.44). I believe if we can tell ourselves no, it will be much easier to tell others no.

However, Cloud and Townsend (1992) point out it is impossible to “start setting limits until you have entered into deep, abiding attachments with people who will love you no matter what. Our deepest need is to belong, to be in a relationship, to have a spiritual and emotional ‘home’” (p.64).

“When we are not secure that we are loved, we are forced to choose between two bad options: 1. We set limits and risk losing a relationship. … 2. We don’t set limits and remain a prisoner to the wishes of another” (p.64). And in my experience, both bad options bring emptiness, loneliness, and bitterness that drive away the Spirit and foster further insecurity.

In evaluating my own relationships, there are very few which I believe are “deep,” “abiding,” where I will be loved “no matter what.” Love is conditional. The only unconditional love comes from or through God and Christ. Love from any other source is conditional; for a person to say it is not conditional usually means they have not yet suffered from inappropriate, abusive, or extreme conditions; they lack experience and maturity. Love within those circumstances isn’t really love; instead it is fear of loss, built upon obsession, desperation, and insecurity.

Even a mother and her child share conditional love, though the threshold of aversive conditions may be much steeper in this close familial bond. But everyone has a breaking point; everyone has a line that when it is crossed, the supposed unconditional love takes off its blindfold and sees what is really going on. There are many more people whose intolerant threshold includes basic human idiosyncrasies—not only that, but their love is so conditional, that by not meeting all expectations you are denied all their love.

Again, the only unconditional love comes through God and Christ—in their perfection they love perfectly, without judgment, without jealousy, without expectation. This concept is eloquently described in The Continuous Atonement:

God is bound to love me. It is his nature to love perfectly and infinitely. He is bound to love me – not because I am good, but because He is good. Love is so central to his character that the scriptures actually say, ‘God is love” (1 John 4:8, 16; emphasis added). … Not only did He require me to have faith and confidence in Him, but He is required to have faith and confidence in me. … God and Jesus are bound to believe in me – in my potential and possibilities – even when I don’t. God is bound to be as close to me as He is to any of His children because He is a perfect parent. (Wilcox, 2009, p.132-133)

Therefore, when my needs of being loved, approved of, and accepted by certain people are not being met, “[I] must face this deficit and accept that it can only be met in [my] new family of God, those who are now [my] true ‘mother, father, brothers, and sisters,’ those who do God’s will and can love [me] the way he designed. God is willing to meet [my] needs through his people, but [I] must humble [myself], reach out to a good support system, and take in the good” (Cloud & Townsend, 1992, p.133).

Gratefully, I have eliminated or minimized most of the destructive and negative influences in my life (still working on my own negativity), and procured a few positive people to help meet my emotional needs. But, this process is far from over …

Boundaries Part II: Boundary Origination

Realizing I have dysfunctional boundaries in my relationships is only the first of many steps to building better boundaries. I must also reflect on why my boundaries have become so blurry. Cloud and Townsend (1992) propose “[your] family of origin has the power to affect [your] new family in a trickle-down effect” (p.124). Trickle-down doesn’t create pleasant imagery for me … I envision tears trickling down a devastated cheek, snot trickling down my son’s upper lip, or human waste trickling down the sewer line. I know, I’ve got a disturbed imagination. However, I think that for families with negative and problematic boundaries, those images are perfect – since this kind of crap runs in the genes (or jeans).

There are many different dysfunctional family boundaries or types of boundary problems that may permeate our relationships. In fact, the troubled attitudes we learn while growing up often continue into our adult associations, such as:

§  lack of consequences for irresponsible behavior

§  lack of confrontation

§  lack of limits

§  taking responsibility for others instead of yourself

§  giving out of compulsion and resentment, envy, passivity, and secrecy (Cloud & Townsend, 1992, p.131)

There are multiple boundary problems I can see continuing from my family of origin. I have nearly been married and living away from my family of origin as long as I lived within it. Regardless of time and distance, “These patterns are not new; they have just never been confronted and repented of. These patterns run deep. Your family members are the ones you learned to organize your life around, so they are able to send you back to old patterns by their very presence. You begin to act automatically out of memory instead of growth” (p.131).

It’s hard to say what a dysfunctional family is. Outsiders (and some insiders) might say my family was dysfunctional. Not knowing any better, I thought we functioned just fine. In retrospect, it seems there were some deep seated boundary issues that my parents both brought to the family function table and when those issues co-mingled they created new boundary issues.

There are many different types of dysfunctional family boundaries, but one boundary problem my family of origin and family of marriage both suffer from is triangulation. “It goes something like this: Person A is angry at Person B. Person A does not tell Person B. Person A calls Person C and gripes about Person B. Person C enjoys Person A’s confidence and listens whenever A wants to play the triangle game. By this time, Person B, feeling lonely, calls C, and, in passing, mentions the conflict with A. Person C becomes the confidant of B as well as A. Persons A and B have not resolved their conflict, and C has two ‘friends.’ Triangulation is the failure to resolve a conflict between two persons and pulling in of a third to take sides. This is a boundary problem because the third person has no business in the conflict, but is used for comfort and validation by the ones who are afraid to confront each other. This is how conflicts persist, people don’t change, and enemies are made unnecessarily” (p.127-128). So many hurt feelings and unresolved issues have continued year after year due to this boundary issue.

I have contributed to triangulation with various family members as both person A and C, something I now realize with much regret. I have also been an unwitting person B over the years, something I also realize with much disappointment. A couple of months ago, I discovered that two very close family members have spent countless hours venting to other family members, instead of speaking directly to me about their anger or hurt feelings. In one instance, over the last fifteen years, this became a situation of secrecy and, therefore, feigned affection. “What happens in the triangle is that people speak falsely, covering up their hatred with nice words and flattery” (p.128). To know that person C, whom I loved and trusted, was listening to gossip about me without ever asking my side of the story, has been intensely disheartening. To know that person A, whom I loved and trusted, was gossiping about me to other family members (and friends), passively refusing to discuss things directly with me, has compounded some of the most incredible personal pain I have had to bear.

In the second instance, family member C felt compelled to tell me the negative gossip family member A was saying about me, perhaps hoping that I would be driven to repair the damaged relationship I was not supposed to know about or simply to lift the burden being born by knowing unwanted information. “Gossip gets between people. It affects our opinions of the people being gossiped about … Many times what we hear from a third person is inaccurate” (p.128).

Finding out about both of these situations has made me take a hard look at these relationships. How I wish that person C in both cases would have told person A to stop talking about me to them. How I wish that person C in both cases would have told person A to talk to me instead. “A simple way to avoid triangulation is to always talk to the person with whom you have a conflict first. Work it out with her, and only if she denies the problem, talk to someone else to get insight about how to resolve it, not to gossip and to bleed off anger [or to receive validation]. Then you both go to talk to her together to try to solve the problem. Never say to a third party something about someone that you do not plan to say to the person himself” (p.129). I wish I had been given a chance to join the original conversation; perhaps a resolution could have been reached. Now, I will never know, and it seems these relationships are probably beyond repair.

However, identifying what my boundary issues are is still not enough; I must examine why I have failed to recognize and set appropriate personal boundaries for so long. For most, false motives keep us from setting boundaries. These false motives can come in the following attitudes:

1. Fear of loss of love, or abandonment. People who say yes and then resent saying yes fear losing someone’s love. This is the dominant motive of martyrs. …

2. Fear of others’ anger. Because of old hurts and poor boundaries, some people can’t stand for anyone to be mad at them.

3. Fear of loneliness. Some people give in to others because they feel that that will “win” love and end their loneliness.

4. Fear of losing the “good me” inside. … Many people cannot say, “I love you and I do not want to do that.” Such a statement does not make sense to them. They think that to love means to always say yes.

5. Guilt. Many people’s giving is motivated by guilt. They are trying to do enough good things to overcome the guilt inside and feel good about themselves. When they say no, they feel bad. So they keep trying to earn a sense of goodness.

6. Payback. Many people have received things with guilt messages attached. …

7. Approval. Many feel as if they are still children seeking parental approval. Therefore, when someone wants something from them, they need to give so that this symbolic parent will be “well pleased.”

8. Overidentification with the other’s loss. Many times people have not dealt with all their own disappointments and losses, so whenever they deprive someone else with a no, they “feel” the other person’s sadness to the nth degree. They can’t stand to hurt someone that badly, so they comply. (p.91-92)

At one time or another I have employed these false motives in justifying my blurred boundaries. Even now, I seek the approval of others. I have described myself as a puppy, who you can kick around, but as soon as you offer me a “good girl” or give me a metaphorical pat on the head I am right back at your heel, licking the foot that kicked me. That goes along with first three false motives, as well: Fear of loss of love, or abandonment, Fear of others’ anger, and Fear of loneliness. These are not reasons to compromise my self-worth or modify my integrity, yet I manage to make choices that look more like desperation than deliberation.

For some people, boundary issues can stem from tragic life experiences. These “specific traumas can injure boundary development. A trauma is an intensely painful emotional experience, rather than a character pattern. Emotional, physical, and sexual abuse are traumatic. Accidents and debilitating illnesses are traumatic. Severe losses such as the death of a parent, divorce, or extreme financial hardship are also traumatic. … A trauma can affect boundary development because it shakes up two necessary foundations to children’s growth: 1. The world is reasonably safe. 2. They have control over their lives. Children who undergo trauma feel these foundations shaken up. They become unsure that they are safe and protected in the world, and they become frightened that they have no say-so in any danger that approaches them” (p.80-81). While I have suffered minimally in regards to these traumas, I have seen the boundary devastation for friends and family members who have had such extremely tragic experiences. For them, my heart breaks, because to begin to mend these broken boundaries they have a steep road to travel.

Insomuch that their suffering has affected the relationship we share, I have found it difficult for me to find peace. I have become bitter toward those who were their abusers, seeking to blame and hoping for severe punishment. In fact, I recently posted a personal rant in this regard on my Facebook status. Sadly, in my attempt to vilify another, I became the villain. In seeing someone else as a monster, I became both ugly and monstrous. Didn't Christ teach us to love and forgive everyone? If those who suffered the abuse can forgive, why shouldn't I? For most people the concept of forgiveness is to pardon another their trespasses, to wave a debt which they are owed, or to even forget how they have been wronged. However, Warner (2001) would suggest "forgiveness consists not of forgetting what happened, but of repenting of unforgiving feelings about what happened, and if possible seek forgiveness" (p.296).

In the book Bonds that Make Us Free, Warner (2001) discusses his work with two women whose boundaries had been destroyed because of the sexual abuse they suffered as children, Ellie by her father and Margaret by her mother. Each woman struggled with the desire to forgive her parent, but had found little success in the attempt to pardon the abuser. Ultimately, Warner suggested that instead of trying to forgive the abuser, she should ask her parent for forgiveness. When I first read this, my brain did a double-take. What?! Why would the victim need to ask the perpetrator for forgiveness? He continued, explaining that each woman needed to be forgiven for the destructive and negative feelings each had felt toward her respective parent. So often we justify our negative emotions, we nurture them in ourselves and others, we tell people they have every right to be angry and disgusted. However, it was only through asking to be forgiven that both Ellie and Margaret found the peace for which they had been searching, it was only at this point that they were able to release the awful pain they had been clinging to for all those years (p.296-300).

"Some people think that forgiving abusers means minimizing the offense committed and letting them get away with it ... This isn't true. Abusers suffer quite independently of being resented. They harbor wretched, hateful feelings, and if they one day admit to what they've done, they will also suffer exquisite guilt and sorrow. Our resentment cannot increase their torment; it harms only ourselves" (Warner, 2001, p.301). I can see how the saying that not forgiving is like drinking a poison and hoping for someone else to die. The negative emotions we wrap around our injuries (perceived or real) only insulate us from the healing peace of letting go.

And, letting go -- of hurts, disappointments, mistakes, and negative boundaries of origin -- will help free us to form healthier, more functional boundaries in the future.

Can I help?

Last night, on my way to teach a night class at a local university, I stopped by a drinking fountain to refill my water bottle. I had my reminiscent-of-a-diaper-bag purse hanging from one shoulder, my binder of teaching materials bundled in my other arm, my cell phone clenched between my ear and shoulder, and my hip pushing against the dispenser button, as I leaned and stooped to avoid dropping both my purse and my phone. Strategically, I held the water bottle at the precise angle, hoping to catch at least half of the water spraying in its direction. The call had ended; still I was stuck in the position.

From my left, I heard, “Can I help?”

I couldn’t even turn to see who had said it, for fear of dropping my phone, though the voice was decidedly female. For a nanosecond I looked at everything I was simultaneously holding and doing. I thought of handing her my binder or setting down my purse. Then, I glanced at my water bottle, which was nearly as full as I could get it, at least at the awkward angle. “What was the point?” I figured.

“Oh, gosh, no, I’ve got it.” I straightened my body, but my head was still pressed against the cell phone on my shoulder.

“Are you sure?” she queried, walking slowly toward me.

I tightened the lid on the bottle, let the phone drop from my shoulder to my hand, and slipped it into my coat pocket.

“No, I’m good. Thanks for offering though.” I smiled, realizing I must have looked like I was in a circus balancing act, about to lose my grip on everything.

And, then it struck me. Over the past few days, I had received texts and phone calls from at least eight different people, co-workers, friends, neighbors, church members, and family who had asked almost the same thing: “What can I do to help?” Undoubtedly, to them I must look like I am in a circus balancing act, about to lose my grip on everything. And, I probably am.

It’s not that I don’t need help, it’s not that I don’t want help, it’s just that when I’m in the middle of my juggling act, I’m not sure what to hand over to someone else or I think I can just deal with it. I am definitely not good at accepting help and I’m even less good at asking for it. Intellectually, I know that having help does not mean I am incapable or weak, but I don’t want to be a burden to anyone or to have people feel sorry for me.

In Boundaries, Cloud and Townsend (1992) state: “Many times others have ‘burdens’ that are too big to bear. They do not have enough strength, resources, or knowledge to carry the load, and they need help. Denying ourselves to do for others what they cannot do for themselves is showing the sacrificial love of Christ. … On the other hand … everyone has responsibilities that only he or she can carry. These things are our own particular ‘load’ that we need to take daily responsibility for and work out. No one can do certain things for us” (p.30).

Cloud and Townsend (1992) clarify this concept further, by differentiating between the terms burden and load:

The Greek word for burden means “excess burdens,” or burdens that are so heavy that they weigh us down. These burdens are like boulders. … We need help with the boulders—those times of crisis and tragedy in our lives. In contrast, the Greek word for load means “cargo,” or “the burden of daily toil.” This word describes the everyday things we all need to do. These loads are like knapsacks. Knapsacks are possible to carry. We are expected to carry our own. We are expected to deal with our own feelings, attitudes, and behaviors, as well as the responsibilities God has given to each one of us, even thought it takes effort. Problems arise when people act as if their “boulders” are daily loads, and refuse help, or as if their “daily loads” are boulders they shouldn’t have to carry. The results of these two instances are either perpetual pain or irresponsibility. (p.30-31)

I know I am the only one who can make my decisions, feel my pain, learn from my life experiences, and ultimately find joy. Does that mean I cannot allow a friend to lift my spirits, provide me food for thought and food for my family, or offer me comfort? No. However, when I am in the process of trying to carry a crushing boulder, it is difficult for me to know what I need to do, let alone tell others how they can help.

My patent answer lately is, “Just pray.” Who couldn’t use a few extra pleas to God on their behalf? And I certainly have felt the sustaining power of those who have prayed, asked others to pray, and meditated for my family and for me.

A couple of days ago, the boulder I carry was nearly unbearable, and as I sat at my desk during my preparation period the disillusionment and depression became more than I could stand. I began to sob. Another teacher happened to walk in to check on me and, seeing my distress, took action to gather a team of “boulder bearers.” Within minutes, she had arranged for several colleagues to teach my remaining classes and ordered me, as sweetly as she could, to “go home.” That evening, with the contributions from another friend, she provided dinner for my family and sat with me for an hour, laughing and chatting about politics and Facebook foibles.

This was one of several recent supportive arms, reaching to help me carry my burdens. How blessed I am to be surrounded by loving and supportive people. Perhaps, the miracle I have been praying for has instead come in the form of an angelic army of loyal loved ones.

Galatians 6:2 Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.

Boundaries Part I: My Broken Boundaries

Admittedly, telling people, “no” is a skill I have not yet mastered. I have no problem telling my children “no,” but even my youngest has learned that no usually means maybe and maybe generally means yes. Even when I do tell people “no” I struggle with unbearable feelings of guilt.

I recently told a friend I could not help her out with a situation. She said she understood, but proceeded to post on Facebook that she was frustrated that no one ever returned favors, and then she conveniently couldn’t attend an event in my home that evening. I felt horrible and knew I needed to reciprocate the favors she had done for my family in the past, but, despite the guilt and obligatory attitude, I couldn’t compel myself to give up my one day off, cancel the plans I had made, especially when I was going through a particularly devastating personal crisis (which she knew about). Her reaction and public passive-aggressive retaliation hurt, and I had to fight the feelings of frustration, anger, and how-dare-she-ness.

Had I betrayed myself in reacting defensively to her hurt feelings? Probably. Had I betrayed myself when I hadn’t agreed to help her out, justifying myself with a myriad of excuses? Perhaps. Am I acting no better than she did by posting about this on my blog? Possibly.

Considering this situation (and several other recent relationship issues), the following questions come to my mind: Why should I have to make excuses for saying “no,” why should I do things only out of obligation, why should I feel guilty when I have valid reasons to say “no,” and from where did this fear of saying “no” originate?

In the book, Boundaries: When to Say YES, When to Say NO, To Take Control of Your Life, Cloud and Townsend (1992) posit, “The most basic boundary-setting word is no. It lets others know that you exist apart from them and that you are in control of you. … No is a confrontational word. … we are to confront people we love, saying, ‘No, that behavior is not okay. I will not participate in that.’ The word no is also important in setting limits on abuse” (p.34). So, it stands to reason that if I have difficultly saying “the most basic boundary-setting word,” then I do not have boundaries or, at best, I have very weak boundaries.

“Words [such as ‘no’] let people know where you stand and thus give them a sense of the ‘edges’ that help identify you. … [It sends] a clear message about how you conduct relationships and lets them know the ‘rules’ of your yard” (Cloud & Townsend, 1992, p.35). However, if I do not know how I want to conduct relationships, if I simply imitate the models of my childhood, or if I have not set the rules of my yard, I cannot send a clear message, and the “edges” of my identity are blurred.

Cloud and Townsend (1992) call this type of boundary conflict compliance. “Compliant people have fuzzy and indistinct boundaries; they ‘melt’ into the demands and needs of other people. They can’t stand alone, distinct from people who want something from them. … Compliants are chameleons. ... The inability to say no to the bad is pervasive. Not only does it keep us from refusing evil in our lives, it often keeps us from recognizing evil. Many compliant people realize too late that they’re in a dangerous or abusive relationship” (p.50-51).

But why do I (and so many others) struggle with telling people “no”?

Fear.

Fear of hurting the other person’s feelings,

Fear of abandonment and separateness,

A wish to be totally dependent on another,

Fear of someone else’s anger,

Fear of punishment,

Fear of being shamed,

Fear of being seen as bad or selfish,

Fear of being seen as unspiritual,

Fear of one’s overstrict, critical conscience.

“… This last fear is actually experienced as guilt. … When we give in to guilty feelings, we are complying with a harsh conscience. This fear of disobeying the harsh conscience translates into the inability to confront others … God wants us to be compliant from the inside out (compassionate), not compliant on the outside and resentful on the inside (sacrificial). Compliants take on too many responsibilities and set too few boundaries, not by choice, but because they are afraid” (Cloud & Townsend, 1992, p.51).

“Because of these fears, we try to have secret boundaries. We withdraw passively and quietly, instead of communicating an honest no to someone we love. We secretly resent instead of telling someone that we are angry ... Often, we will privately endure the pain of someone’s irresponsibility instead of telling them how their behavior affects us and other loved ones, information that would be helpful to their soul. … If our boundaries are not communicated and exposed directly, they will be communicated indirectly or through manipulation” (p.101).

So, motivated by fear and guilt, I spend much of my life saying “yes” externally, but feeling “no” internally, and the act, then, becomes either a sacrifice (rather than willing compassion) or, worse, an allowance of negative and evil to invade my life. Unfortunately, “an internal no nullifies an external yes. God is more concerned with our hearts than he is with our outward compliance … In other words, if we say yes to God or anyone else when we really mean no, we move into a position of compliance. And that is the same as lying. Our lips say yes, but our hearts (and often our half-hearted actions) say no” (p.106).

Herein lies the paradox: I chronically fail to say “no” to those who bring negativity and destruction into my life, I regularly say "no" to those who desire to bring positivity and support into my life, I often say “yes” to people out of fear and then resent, and when I try to take control of my life and tell people “no” in appropriate circumstances I suffer from guilt and have to rationalize and justify my choice to actually set boundaries.

However, as Cloud and Townsend (1992) point out, “if we can’t say no, we can’t say yes. Why is this? It has to do with our motivation to obey, to love, or to be responsible. We must always say yes out of a heart of love. When our motive is fear, we love not” (p.106). Again, this goes back to the idea of self-betrayal and living a lie. If I am unable to give an honest “no,” then my “yes” can never be believed or trusted.

Part of me needs to fully realize the truthfulness in the statement, “The only person you have control over is yourself.” Part of my fear in telling people “no” is the fear of how they may react. My friend’s reaction to my “no” only solidified this fear for me. However, “God never gave us the power or the right to control how others respond to our no. Some will welcome it; some will hate it” (Cloud & Townsend, 1992, p.107). It seems those who hate my “no” the most are those who either lack boundaries themselves or who have little respect for others’ boundaries.

Therefore, “boundaries are a ‘litmus test’ for the quality of our relationships. Those people in our lives who can respect our boundaries will love our wills, our opinions, our separateness. Those who can’t respect our boundaries are telling us that they don’t love our no. They only love our yes, our compliance” (p.108). Cloud and Townsend (1992) suggest we try their “litmus test experiment” with our significant relationships, by actually building a boundary and telling them “no” in some appropriate area, saying we will “either come out with increased intimacy – or learn that there was very little to begin with” (p.108).

I found this “litmus test” to be true recently in a newly forming friendship. In the past, especially during the developing phase of a relationship, I would systematically say “yes” out of fear of rejection or not being liked. One morning, my new friend texted me and asked if I could do her a favor. She put no pressure on me, saying that if I couldn’t help, it was perfectly fine. The problem is she didn’t need to put any pressure on me, because I already put enough on myself for the both of us. I thought for a few minutes about what to do. Everything in me wanted to say “yes,” but I was in no position emotionally or spiritually to help her. Listening to my heart and not my fear, I told her I would love to help her, but I could not. I gave no excuse; she did not demand one. She only showed forth more compassion and empathy. Suddenly, I realized what it meant to have an honest friend, void of fear and feigned affection.

In so doing, I discovered what Cloud and Townsend describe as “the path to real love: [to] communicate your boundaries openly” (p.102).

My Boundary Goals:

• Stop saying "yes" out of obligation and fear.
• Stop saying "yes" to those who bring negativity and destructive behaviors into my life.
• Be direct and firm about my boundaries (as opposed to avoidant and mute).
• Start saying "no" without excuse or explanation or guilt.
• Start saying "yes" to those who offer me unconditional love, honesty, loyalty, and support.

Facebook and the Façade

Every week day, on my way to take my youngest son to his babysitter, I drive past the First Baptist Church of Roy. In front of the church is a large marquee, where presumably the pastor posts a special message for the congregation and passers-by. A couple of months ago, the marquee read, “Get off Facebook and get into My book.” I smiled, amused by the creative pun, but my amusement soon turned to chagrin.

While I rarely log into Facebook from my home computer, I do spend an unnecessary amount of time, usually during random moments of boredom, snooping around status updates and posted photos via my cell phone. I am past playing games or taking quizzes, though I did my fair share of both when novelty negated reason. In the past, I have joked that I needed help cutting back and should probably spearhead a FA group. Despite the fact that Facebook is both a time- and brain-drain, it has been a positive way to reconnect with former childhood friends, lost contacts from college, special students who have graduated, and even keep up with kin, as we all move about our lives across the country. It’s been a teaching tool for my high school students, as well as a way to deliver important family messages about events, both tragic and tender.

According to the Facebook Pressroom, the average user has 130 friends. However, the average user may not be a high school teacher, having taught approximately 200 students annually for nearly thirteen years. The average user may not have a prolific and well-connected extended family. The average user may not be active in a religious organization or several statewide service organizations. The average user may not have grown up in a small town and know, by name, his/her entire graduating class. Therefore, I am not the average user, and I currently have 689 friends, all of whom I know personally (to varying degrees). This is not to say I am popular, but that I have had many opportunities in my life to meet many new people, most of whom I connect with and like. However, this number is down by two since Wednesday – I am not even sure yet who unfriended me, and it’s possible whoever it was simply deactivated his/her account altogether. And, it’s even more possible, they simply unfriended me.

Over the years I have had multiple Facebook friends, some former students, but mostly people from my hometown, unfriend me. They never say why they leave, at least not to me (though I do hear rumblings and rumors). No doubt, there have been “friends” I have unwittingly offended over Facebook, with my random, annoying, and off-color updates. Perhaps there are others who realized we weren’t that close to begin with, so why pretend to be friends in Cyberspace. I wish they would send me a message or post on my wall, “Hey, your excessive status updates were irritating. Peace out,” or “I’m cutting back on my so-called friends and since you never comment on what I post I guess it won’t be a big loss to you,” or “I just friend requested you to spy into your life and see if you were miserable, and now that I have looked through all your photos and info, I’m done.” Since there is no notification, and because I have nearly seven hundred friends, it usually takes me awhile to notice the person is gone from my list. I do notice, eventually.  Once, I went so far as to ask a “friend” why she had unfriended me, but never got a response. I suppose the answer didn’t matter.

Unfriending could be the simplest and quickest form of setting personal cyber boundaries. “Two aspects of limits stand out when it comes to creating better boundaries. The first is setting limits on others. … In reality, setting limits on others is a misnomer. We can’t do that. What we can do is set limits on our own exposure to people who are behaving poorly; we can’t change them or make them behave right. … God sets standards, but he lets people be who they are and then separates himself from them when they misbehave, saying in effect, ‘You can be that way if you choose, but you cannot come into my house’” (Cloud and Townsend, 1995, p.44).

There have been a few times I have unfriended people. I’m usually too afraid of hurting someone else’s feelings to actually remove them from my friend list, so I simply “hide” them instead. However, “making decisions based on others’ approval or on guilt breeds resentment, a product of our sinful nature. We have been so trained by others on what we ‘should’ do that we think we are being loving when we do things out of compulsion” (p.42).

When I did decide to delete a friend or two, my personal reasoning was to put some space between the person and myself because I felt betrayed in some way, and believed I needed to protect myself from their criticism and negativity.  Because I was uncomfortable confronting them, and “hiding” them only kept them invisible to me, I believed the best way to protect myself from them was removal from my cyber life. Once I felt I was able to trust their intentions (or once I let go of my own negative emotions), I was ready to again accept them as “virtual friends.” But really, it wasn’t about them, it was about me. “Feelings should neither be ignored nor placed in charge. … Feelings come from your heart and can tell you the state of your relationships. They can tell you if things are going well, or if there is a problem. If you feel close and loving, things are probably going well. If you feel angry, you have a problem that needs to be addressed. But the point is, your feelings are your responsibility and you must own them and see them as your problem so you can begin to find an answer to whatever issue they are pointing to” (p.40).

There have been times in my life when I fretted over the belief that someone didn’t like me, even that they had unfriended me. In my first years of teaching, I felt terrible if a student thought I was a bad teacher or said they didn’t like me or my class. The same applied to co-workers. I recall, my first year teaching I was nominated by a colleague for a teacher of the year award at my school. The winner was selected by popular vote from among our fellow teachers. While it was an enormous compliment to even be nominated, not to mention during my first year teaching, the likelihood of receiving the majority of votes was improbable. However, I internalized my “failure” to win as a measure of how much or how little people liked me. I saw myself as a failure, instead of focusing on the success and recognition of being nominated. Suddenly, I had something to prove. If they did not believe I was good enough to vote for me, I must make myself good enough. This was not something I consciously stated, but in analyzing my subsequent behavior it’s likely my subconscious had pushed my work ethic into hyperdrive. In my mind, hard work + being liked = success. This pattern was first rooted while I was in high school, when I had been nominated by my peers (being liked) for Prom Queen, but regardless of my contributions and countless hours planning and decorating (hard work), I failed to impress the final selection committee (not being liked). The next year, my campaign for student body president (hard work) was not realized (not being liked). In college, despite my efforts (hard work), I was looked over for an excellence in student teaching award (not being liked). And, nearly every year since I began my career, I have been nominated for various teaching distinction awards and failed to ever be selected as the winner. Last year, a colleague asked if he could nominate me for yet another teaching award. Politely, I declined, asking him to nominate someone else, perhaps a teacher who would be retiring that year. I couldn’t take another instance of being subjected to the selection process, only to receive notification that once again I didn’t meet the mark. It was beginning to feel like a cruel joke … and even as I sit here typing this, I’d just like to slap myself upside the head and say, “Are you kidding me!? You are the most ungrateful person! Look at all of the people who are never nominated, never even in the running! Will you stop throwing yourself a pity party and be pleased with the love and recognition you did get?!” It’s a continual, internal tug-of-war of insecurities versus infinite individual worth.

There is no denying that I absolutely love what I do; I love my students, I love the subjects I teach, I love that I am making a difference for even one person, but that love has become twisted by believing that I am not worthy of reciprocated love unless I am the best at what I do, and I’m not the best unless others say I am. “What we value is what we love and assign importance to. Often we do not take responsibility for what we value. We are caught up in valuing the approval of men rather than the approval of God (John 12:43); because of this misplaced value, we miss out on life. We think that power, riches, and pleasure [or recognition] will satisfy our deepest longing, which is really for love. When we take responsibility for out-of-control behavior caused by loving the wrong things, or valuing things that have no lasting value, when we confess that we have a heart that values things that will not satisfy, we can receive help from God and his people to ‘create a new heart’ within us” (p.43). It’s as if I’m on an unattainable mission to please everyone, and essentially I’m pleasing no one, especially myself. This is because, as C. Terry Warner explains in his book Bonds that Make Us Free: Healing Our Relationships, Coming to Ourselves (2001), I have betrayed myself: “as self-betrayers we project an image of a deserving, worthwhile person, and then we struggle constantly to produce evidence that we’re measuring up to that image.  … We must conceal what we suspect we really are so as to keep from being ‘found out.’ But what we cover up when we hide behind this ‘false front’ – when we publicly project an idealized and fictitious version of ourselves – is not real. We are no more the worthless person we are trying to hide than the impressively worthwhile person we are trying to hide behind. … We have little conception of how worthwhile we are because we are working so hard to prove how worthwhile we are!” (p.74-75). I have spent hours meditating and re-reading much of what Warner writes, as it is difficult to wrap my brain around it all. So, let me see if I get this: I am hiding what I think I really am (a loser and a failure) behind a façade of dedication, hard work, and over competence, but really I am neither the failure, nor am I the amazing teacher, friend, homemaker, church member, etc. So, what am I if I am neither? I suppose that is what I must figure out. That is my quest, to seek the Holy Grail of what or who I am or want to be, and then to be that! I want to feel successful, not because I have a plaque that says so, but because at the end of the day I feel it; I want to know I did my best and no one can tell me otherwise; there is no trophy, title, or tribute that can be taken away.

Sadly, this is not the only form of self-betrayal. There are multiple ways in which a person can betray him/herself. Let me go back to the idea of me unfriending people on Facebook. I believed I had been wronged or at the very least I was offended by the behavior of these other people. However, “one person can give offense only if the other will take offense. One person can insult, humiliate, intimidate, anger, bore, or provoke only if the other actively construes what he or she does as insulting, humiliating, intimidating, angering, boring, or provoking” (p.98). I chose to be offended by their behavior, and by judging them I made them my enemy, and I betrayed myself. Warner explains that this form of self-betrayal occurs:

When we … shift responsibility onto others by means of our accusing thoughts and feelings, we … believe it is their mistreatment of us that leads us to accuse them. This is the self-betrayer’s lie. The truth – the profound, almost world-shaking truth – is that we accuse them because of our mistreatment of them. … Life becomes hard to bear only when we, as self-betrayers, cast ourselves in a victim’s role by regarding others as our victimizers and nurse our misfortunes as if they were badges of honor. I think of self-betrayal as a form of subtle self-destruction because it obliterates the open and generous individuals we can and ought to be – and all for this paltry mess of pottage, the unsteady and impermanent feeling of justification in wrongdoing. … We can’t feel justified in withholding kindness from others unless we find, or invent, some reasons why they deserve it – some deficiency or despicable characteristic that requires us to ignore or correct or chasten or punish them … By our self-victimizations, we exaggerate others’ destructiveness and our own helplessness. … We display ourselves as suffering at their hands. And we evade acknowledging our mistreatment of them by accusing them of mistreating us. … Once we betray ourselves, accuse others, and box ourselves into the victim’s role, we no longer see things the way they really are. In our minds, there can be only two options: one is that we are right in accusing them, which means that they are guilty of all the trouble between us and that we are their victims; the other is that we’re wrong and they aren’t guilty after all, and this means we’re guilty of the trouble and they are our victims. … if we were to acknowledge not being a victim, in that very instant we would in our own eyes become a victimizing, hypocritical monster. (p.30, 54, 64, 67, 71-72)

First, I allowed myself to be offended by their actions. By so doing, I placed myself in the role of victim, thereby giving them power over me, my feelings, and my choices. Warner explains throughout the text that when we fail to act either as we know we should or act as we know we should not, we are betraying ourselves and living a lie.

Unfortunately, I live this lie every morning I drop my son at the sitter. As I race down the street, putting on my make-up in the car, I commence the drill sergeant commands: “Seat belt off, get ready, hurry, hurry, jump out, I’m late, don’t make Mommy more late, come on, Buddy … (tone change) have a great day, love you, be good … (no movement) okay, come on, get out, I have got to go!” His sleepy eyes droop, his shivering body still not adjusted to the cold of the car, his little legs moving slowly from his car seat to open his door. It is 100% my fault we are running late, because I stayed up the night before reading or thinking or writing, and so I snoozed my alarm to the last possible second. The rush to get ready and out the door lasts about thirty minutes, and most mornings I am worried I will arrive at school after the tardy bell has rung. My quietly dreaming son, warm in his bed, is woken abruptly by me putting on his socks and coat, packing his backpack with clothes for the day, and whispering directives to, “Get in the car.” It’s this terrible roller coaster I place him on every morning, and then I get frustrated and upset when he is moving too slowly, crying because he doesn’t “want to wear the shirt with buttons!” or stands at the babysitter’s door and won’t walk in. Because of my choices I am frustrated, not because of him, yet I treat him like he is the cause, like he is the enemy, making me late for work. Here I fail to do what I know I should (to get up early, to create a calm, safe, warm, and patient atmosphere for my child, to arrive to work on time, etc.) and then I vilify my own son in the process. And, how often do we do this with not only our children, but our co-workers, our friends, our siblings, our parents, and most often our spouse?

So, what must I do now?

§  I must realize I am of infinite worth because I am a daughter of God, and stop trying to prove my worth.

§  I must determine what makes me a success in my own eyes and live that truthfully.

§  I must own my emotions and not blame others for making me feel anything.

§  I must be true to myself by doing what I know I should and by not doing what I know I should not.

And when I fall short of doing all of that, I must remember the words of Gerald N. Lund: “Remember that one of Satan’s strategies, especially with good people, is to whisper in their ears: ‘If you are not perfect, you are failing.’ This is one of his most effective deceptions. … We should recognize that God is pleased with every effort we make – no matter how faltering – to better ourselves” (qtd. in Wilcox, 2009, p.108). At the very least, I should be pleased with my effort to move in the right direction and grateful for the distance I have traveled so far.

§  Workbook Questions: What do you tend to do with your feelings – ignore them or let them be in charge? Why? If you are nursing any negative feelings right now, what problem that needs to be addressed are they pointing you toward? You are the only one who feels the effects of your attitudes and beliefs, and you are the only one who can change those attitudes and beliefs. Which attitudes and beliefs that you hold are causing you to make poor choices or experience pain? What will you do to get those attitudes and beliefs in line with God’s truth? (Post your response as a comment.)

Watering My Lawn

When asked to give advice at a bridal shower, many women write, “Never go to bed angry.” My note card of wedded wisdom was always one of two: 1. “There’s no point staying up fighting it out—it’s amazing what a good night’s sleep will do for your perspective,” and 2. “If you think the grass is greener on the other side, water your lawn!” The first was because I like to be contradictory. The second, I truly believe, but was horrible at following. I swear, I’m the poster child for what not to do in a marriage, so take what I have to say with a grain of salt, but my lawn metaphor is accurate in describing a committed relationship, and it also applies to the concept of boundaries.

My own lawn, my own personal spiritual and emotional health have suffered for years … I have sculpted a completely dry-scaped, rock-filled desert of a yard … while I have, instead, watered and pruned the yards of dozens of students, many friends, and multiple family members. I had removed the water from my own yard, and turned it onto the lawns of those for whom I had made myself responsible. I had sacrificed my own time for reading, writing, playing the piano, singing, meditating, and nurturing my important family relationships, to nurture the needs (and sometimes neediness) of others.

In the book Boundaries, the author tells a story of a mother and father who came to him, devastated about their son, who, they believed, was suffering from a myriad of problems. He was unemployed, failing out of college, using drugs, to name a few of the issues with which his parents had been “helping.” The doctor told the distraught parents, “He doesn’t have a problem. You do. … Would you like for me to help you help him have some problems? … As it stands now, he is irresponsible and happy, and you are responsible and miserable. … You need some fences to keep his problems out of your yard and in his, where they belong” (Cloud & Townsend, 1992, p.28). The parents were dumb-founded. How could their son have no problems? How could they be the ones with the problem? The problem was, they had been watering their son’s lawn, not allowing him to experience the natural consequences of his choices: a dead and dying yard. If they wanted to empower him to become responsible for himself, they needed to make those consequences apparent; they would have to stop being responsible for him; they would have to stop watering his lawn.

Cloud and Townsend clarify that, “Boundaries define us. They define what is me and what is not me. A boundary shows me where I end and someone else begins, leading me to a sense of ownership. …We are not, for example, responsible for other people. Nowhere are we commanded to have ‘other-control,’ although we spend a lot of time and energy trying to get it!” (p.29-30). Oh, how I can relate! I must be honest and acknowledge there is a part of me that finds solace in focusing on helping others—always starting some new service project, planning or helping with some community activity or event, offering a listening ear or advice to someone in need. I remember several years in particular, when I served as the webmaster, membership chair and/or treasurer, the fall conference registrar, and the student competition registrar for the a statewide teaching organization, while I was also serving as the secretary for another statewide foreign language association, and volunteering as the teacher representative for the school’s PTSA … this all in addition to teaching full-time (including advising both yearbook and a drug/alcohol/violence prevention team of students), plus teaching a night class at WSU … while serving in the young women’s organization at my church … and being a wife and a mother to three little boys. Ever heard the phrase, “Jack of all trades; master of none?” That was me—Jill of all trades and doing a piss-poor job at everything! I just had the hardest time telling people no.

“People with poor boundaries struggle with saying no to the control, pressure, demands, and sometimes the real needs of others. They feel that if they say no to someone, they will endanger their relationship with that person, so they passively comply, but inwardly resent. Sometimes a person is pressuring you to do something; other times the pressure comes from your own sense of what you ‘should’ do. If you cannot say no to this external or internal pressure, you have lost control of your property and are not enjoying the fruit of ‘self-control’” (p.34). And, there you have it, folks! I couldn’t say no and so I was not in control of myself; rather, all of the things I was doing and people or organizations I was responsible to were in control of me.

The question is, have I learned my lesson yet? I’m trying, but old habits die hard. I am still the webmaster for UCTE (though the baton is in mid-pass), I am still advising yearbook and the student team (but, they bring in extra income and a unique opportunity to really connect with students), I still serve on the PTSA, but as for the rest of the extra-curriculars, barring motherhood, I am on sabbatical until I can get a grip on my own yard work, until I can fertilize and water my own lawn for awhile. This includes taking a break from not only volunteer work, but also some relationships. “Sometimes physically removing yourself from a situation will help maintain boundaries. … Or, you can remove yourself to get away from danger and put limits on evil. The Bible urges us to separate from those who continue to hurt us and to create a safe place for ourselves. Removing yourself from the situation will also cause the one who is left behind to experience a loss of fellowship that may lead to changes behavior. … Taking time off from a person, or a project, can be a way of regaining ownership over some out-of-control aspect of your life where boundaries need to be set” (p.36). I am finding that in moving away from these situations and taking a break from certain people, I have room to breathe, greater peace, and a broader perspective of life. That is not to say the withdrawals of losing these connections hasn’t been difficult, painful, and sometimes lonely.

An old (and by old I mean long-standing, since he is my age, and I’m by no means aged, though there are days I feel like an elderly women with early-onset Alzheimer’s) high school friend has asked me on several occasions, “Do you know how to relax? Do you even know how to just sit still and do nothing?”

My initial response to his question was, “Of course I do, but doing nothing just depresses me. I find if I slow down and don’t keep myself moving, I slip into lethargic apathy. I won’t even get dressed or move from my bed. It’s horrible. So, I prefer to just keep going.” I’ve pondered his question several times since, wondering why it is I have to be doing something, many somethings, nearly all of the time. I think my response, though it was somewhat superficial, actually speaks truth as to why I water other people’s lawns more than my own. Frankly, it’s easier and less depressing to focus on other people’s problems, it’s easier to solve the big issues facing someone else, than to solve my own problems. I’m a great reflective listener, I am a pretty good problem-solver, I have read a lot of books and can offer sound advice … for someone else. If the mirror was flipped around and I stood, staring into my own eyes, I would have to face the ugly reality that I wasn’t ready to see (and I’m not just talking about the random gray hairs and emerging wrinkles). If I kept enough “whatever’s” blocking my own vision, I wouldn’t be able to see the proverbial elephant in the room. And, it took that elephant practically sitting on my head for me to move my fingers from over my eyes.

You know, I’m an intelligent lady; I have a Master’s degree, for heaven’s sake! It’s not like I didn’t know things were out of balance, it’s just that I thought I could handle it. Instead, I was filling up my backpack with boulders, unable to carry anything. Cloud and Townsend point out the flaw in my way of thinking:

First, trying harder isn’t working. … Second, being nice out of fear isn’t working. … Third, taking responsibility for others isn’t working. … Part of taking responsibility, or ownership, is knowing what is our job, and what isn’t. … Any confusion of responsibility and ownership in our lives is a problem of boundaries. Just as homeowners set physical property lines around their land, we need to set mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual boundaries for our lives to help us distinguish what is our responsibility and what isn’t. … the inability to set appropriate boundaries at appropriate times with the appropriate people can be very destructive. … many clinical psychological symptoms, such as depressions, anxiety disorders, eating disorders, addictions, impulsive disorders, guilt problems, shame issues, panic disorders, and marital and relational struggles, find their root in conflicts with boundaries. (p.24-26)

And, don’t I know it! Depression, anxiety, guilt, marital and relational issues … check, check, check, and check! Did I mention I’m reading about a dozen books right now to deal with these issues? Check!

Friday evening, on our way to take our boys to dinner, my husband and I were talking about a mutual acquaintance, who, years ago, had suffered from a drug addiction, but has since been clean for at least a decade. He scoffed at how anyone could use drugs; he just couldn’t understand it. “What is the point,” he said, “destroying your life like that?”

I smiled and said, “Well, I suppose we all use something or another to dull our pain, to hide from our issues. It may be drugs, alcohol, pornography, sex … even over-eating …” I trailed off.

The radio played Christmas music in the background and the chatter from the boys in the backseats made it difficult for him to hear clearly my last example. Confused, he queried, “Over-reading?”

We both laughed out loud as we realized the error, but I suppose I may as well have added “over-reading” to the list. An outside observer, seeing the pile of books on my nightstand (and stuffed in my purse, and stacked next to the toilet, and sitting on my desk at work) could understandably say I am struggling with “over-reading,” that maybe my burying my nose in a book is my attempt to simply shield my eyes from everything I don’t want to see. Maybe they’d be right. And, honestly, if it were even a few months ago, I’d have to agree. However, I believe I have looked up; I have seen what’s in front of me, and instead of hiding my head in a text, I’m earnestly digging for solutions to put into practice. I’m not diving into the cover of some smutty romance story or escaping into the invisibility cloak of some fantasy novel (don’t get me wrong, I am still suffering from “Post-Potter Syndrome,” as my friend Lisa calls it, after listening to all seven books successively on CD). Rather, I am delving into books that grind at the sharp edges of my ego and offer salve for my scorched self esteem.

“Sometimes, we have bad on the inside and good on the outside. In these instances, we need to be able to open up our boundaries to let the good in and the bad out. In other words, our fences need gates in them. For example, if I find that I have some pain or sin within, I need to open up and communicate it to God and others, so that I can be healed. Confessing pain and sin helps to ‘get it out’ so that it does not continue to poison me on the inside (1 John 1:9). And when the good is on the outside, we need to open out gates and ‘let it in.’ … Other people have good things to give us, and we need to ‘open up to them’ (2 Cor. 6:11-13)” (p.31-32).

Just as Cloud and Townsend suggest, I am communicating with God and others (via this blog), confessing my pain, so it doesn’t continue to poison me and so I can be healed. There is so much good out there by way of books and people, I feel blessed and comforted. I wonder if I should have named this blog, “The Gate” – because I’ve unlocked it now; so, out with the bad, and bring in the good!

·      WORKBOOK QUESTIONS: Where are you watering someone else’s lawn while your own lawn dies? Are you allowing someone else to water your yard, instead of you? Is it cruel to stop watering someone else’s lawn, why/why not? (Post your responses below.)