When Boundaries Burn: Learning to Let Go of People-Pleasing
Lately, I've been sitting in a space that’s hard to explain — not quite anger, not quite peace, but something in between. A shedding.
Maybe it’s perimenopause.
Maybe it’s exhaustion.
Maybe it’s growth.
Maybe it’s all three.
Whatever it is, I just… don’t care the same way anymore.
I don’t have it in me to smile and nod while someone drains my energy. I can’t listen to the same complaints on repeat without action. I’ve reached a point where if someone says “you have to” or “you can’t,” my internal response is just, “Get fucked. Do it yourself.”
It’s not elegant. It’s not polished.
But it is honest.
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For years — decades even — I bent. I helped. I overfunctioned. I anticipated needs before people even knew they had them. I gave everything. And in return?
Seven years of helping someone ended with, “Well, I never asked you to.”
And you know what?
They’re right.
They didn’t.
That one line hit like a knife and carved something clean out of me.
I helped because I saw they were drowning. But they weren’t reaching for my hand. And I’ve finally realised — I can’t keep swimming into people’s storms if they’re just going to blame me for the splash.
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Now, I’m different.
And I know people can feel it.
I can see how sharp the change must look from the outside. How quick I am now to say no. How harsh it must sound when I react — not with softness, but with steel. I get it. For people who love me, it probably feels like walking on eggshells.
But here’s the part they don’t see:
I’ve been walking on glass for years.
I was kind while bleeding. Quiet while breaking. Helpful while exhausted.
I held so much in to keep everyone else comfortable.
Now I don’t. And the silence that used to cushion their comfort?
It’s gone.
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I’m not proud of every reaction.
I know I can be abrupt, dismissive, even cold.
But I’m also not ashamed of protecting myself anymore.
Because the old me wasn’t sustainable.
I’m a problem-solver by nature.
But I’ve learned I can’t solve problems for people who don’t want solutions.
And I can’t carry emotional weight for those who refuse to put anything down.
So now, I walk away. I cut ties faster. I don’t offer help unless I’m asked. Not out of cruelty — but self-preservation.
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Will I soften again?
Maybe. Probably.
This isn’t the final version of me — it’s just the necessary one for right now.
But if I do soften, it won’t be because someone guilts me into it.
It’ll be because I’ve healed enough to hold softness and strength in the same breath.
Until then, I’m protecting my energy like it’s sacred.
Because it is.