My Needs and Boundaries

I have been trying very hard lately to set boundaries.

It’s tough.

Some times are better than others.

Especially in regards to follow through.

I can set as many as I want.

But the follow through is incredibly difficult.

I tend to sort-of let people know what I need.

Basically, I say okay a lot.

Even when I for sure don’t feel like doing anything.

Even when I’m sore and tired.

So I’m trying to listen to myself more.

And I am trying to not do things just because someone asked.

I used to think I had to say yes.

I have to go do what this other person wants me to do.

I’m not doing anything else.

I’m free.

So I say okay.

Because it’s nice to.

But who’s that being nice to?

Whoever else, or me?

If making the other person happy, happens by saying yes.

Then making me happy happens by saying no.

So what do I say?

Maybe?

It won’t be that terrible.

It’ll make whomever happy.

So, I’ll do it.

i’ll go.

End up having a fucking terrible time because I had a feeling I might but went along for a hopeful certain amount of pleasure for someone else.

It made so-n-so happy.

It’s okay that I’m miserable.

I’m always miserable.

So whatever.

If I wouldn’t have gone I would have felt guilty.

Not because I didn’t go.

It’s not fear of missing out.

It’s because I let someone down.

At least that’s how I perceive it.

This is what happens.

Time and time and time again.

I’m just comfortable being uncomfortable.

And not in a productive way.

My therapist brought up boundaries about a month ago.

The week after that, my caseworker gave me a handout on boundaries.

I hung it on the back of my door.

It looks like the exact same thing my therapist drew for me in session.

But without the stick figure.

There are different times for each of the three kinds of boundaries.

Rigid, flexible and loose.

I think.

That’s what I’ll call them.

But it makes sense.

Different people call for different boundaries.

Along with different situations.

Different times.

Different sense of self.

Boundaries for parents differ from siblings.

Boundaries for friends differ from work colleagues.

And so on.

I’m learning that I need to be able to listen to myself.

What my needs are.

What I would like.

What I don’t like.

What is good for me today.

I’ve never really been able to listen to myself.

Not properly.

Not in a way that I have ever taken seriously.

I never really was able to.

Mainly because there was always so much fucking chatter going on.

So much random noise.

But today, and this weekend, it’s been what I call my “radio”.

Which is much, much more tolerable.

It sounds like overlapping layers of something I can’t quite put my finger on.

It’s more like cadences of paragraphs being whispered.

Random tunes in and out of the background.

Sometimes the music takes over.

Sometimes it sounds like several people are having a conversation.

But I can’t really make out the words.

I don’t think I’m suppose to.

I just hear them.

It’s just another day.

I’m used to hearing these sounds in my head constantly.

But I’m not used to being able to hear myself.

I’m not used to wanting to care for myself through the noise.

To take the time to do what I want to do usually makes me feel guilty.

I shouldn’t need so much alone time.

I should be more social.

I feel like I have to hang out because I’m not doing anything else.

Blah, blah, blah.

But really, I don’t feel like having to converse.

It’s a lot of effort.

And can be very draining, regardless of the person on the other end.

There’s something else here.

Because I really talk exclusively lately about mental health.

Probably because it consumes every moment of my life.

But it doesn’t for everyone else.

So it’s not as important to everyone.

And that’s it.

I have to learn how to balance my needs against my needs.

Not against other people.

Because no one has lived in anyone’s life but their own.

No one will ever fully understand anything anyone else does because it’s not the way they would do it.

It’s not their trigger.

Their cup of tea.

Whatever you wanna call it.

Having boundaries for me is learning that I can listen to myself.

Not other people.

Not all the time.

Just like when someone redirects a conversation.

I can decline an invitation.

I might seem stand-off-ish.

I might seem as if I’m ignoring, or whathaveyou.

But I can’t handle how others take in a situation.

All I can do is what’s right for me.

And I can remain calm and cool and collected.

Even though, I can’t help but read into text.

I do.

But I quickly remind myself that I don’t know what others are thinking and feeling.

That is not possible.

I’m assuming things.

That other voice just said that.

Whatever the case is.

It’s not my responsibility to manage someone else’s opinion.

Now that I know this, I can relax a little bit actually.

It’s relaxing in reality, really.

Honestly it is.

I was fighting through delusions and hallucinations every moment of every waking day for years.

And now I’m here.

I’m not as paranoid and angry.

I’m learning how to respect what I need and would like.

I’m learning how to properly advocate for myself.

Even through this still blinding fucking physical pain.

It’s wretched.

But I’ve been doing the self care thing the past couple days.

Kinda nice.

But also kinda mandatory.

– Keren