“Emphasize a constant connection with just one person: yourself, who understands where to set the boundaries each day, with each individual.” — Martha Beck, Oprah.com
“Enough already, Martha.” — Me
Last year, I found myself in a whirlwind of chaos. I entrusted my kids to a houseguest while I dashed across town in a cab to deliver homemade meals to a new friend whose husband was gravely ill and who was juggling three little ones. The cab ride was necessary because I had lent my car to a friend who needed it for airport pickups. Oh, and I had taken a break from work to entertain our guest—who happened to be a family member. Meanwhile, my husband was busy at his job.
I’m sharing this not to seek praise (though feel free to think I’m a hero). I genuinely wanted to help. But looking back, I see the beads of stress on my forehead, my lackluster time management, an irritated guest, my work slipping down the list of priorities, and a messy chili disaster leaking onto my leg and the cab floor.
Was I glad to help my friends? Absolutely. Was I pleased to host family? You bet. But trying to juggle all those responsibilities drained my own energy while supposedly filling others’ buckets. The irony? A day like that is not only stressful but often unproductive. In that state, I was likely doing a poor job at every task. (Let’s be real: what’s worse than an overcommitted person? An overcommitted flake.)
So, I decided to pause my relentless quest to “do the right thing.” I began saying no to every bake sale, resume request, ride to Ikea, and casserole-making initiative. This was tough. Weren’t we all taught to say yes?
We all know those people who never lend a hand with moving, skip out on accompanying you after a medical procedure, or won’t pick you up from the airport. I might even be related to a couple of them. I always thought they were just rude. But I realized I couldn’t keep saying yes to everything. I needed to curb my stress and prevent self-loathing—and others’ frustration with me—by not taking on too much.
But how could I start saying no without feeling like a selfish jerk?
First, I had to confront a hard truth: a lot of what I did for others was actually to gain approval or appear “good.” My generosity was often a way to soothe my guilt for having more than I needed. Didn’t that make me another type of selfish jerk? I also began to consider that people with “clear boundaries” often lead happier lives. They recognize their limits, which typically align with their interests and priorities. Perhaps they weren’t indifferent to others’ struggles; maybe they just possessed that elusive quality known as “self-awareness.”
Maybe my binary thinking was unfair. The ability to say no doesn’t necessarily indicate a lack of kindness or empathy. Sometimes, empathy alone is sufficient.
I dove headfirst into this new way of thinking, which is usually not the best approach. Soon after I began setting healthier boundaries, a woman I barely knew received devastating news about the sudden death of a family member right in front of me. She was visibly shaken, her eyes pleading for connection. I felt for her, but I was also stressed about my looming deadlines.
My instincts clashed with my resolve. I held her hand for a moment, asked a couple of obligatory questions, and then, as she steadied herself, I reluctantly returned to my work. While she struggled to compose herself just a few feet away.
That interaction haunts me. I was callous and unkind. It’s a moment I’d love to have a do-over for, once we invent such a thing.
So perhaps the solution exists somewhere in the middle. The idea of a community coming together to achieve what an individual cannot is heartwarming. In some cultures, like the Amish and Mennonite communities, this concept is still alive and well. Yet, we have outsourced many traditional forms of support. Grocery delivery and services like Uber have replaced the homemade meals that once graced the doorsteps of those in need.
But convenience isn’t a substitute for community. I grew up surrounded by a network of supportive family friends and neighbors who helped my single mom. After my grandma’s funeral, a feast was prepared by extended family members in our church basement. My wedding was beautifully decorated by my loving family and friends. When my uncle passed a few years ago, I was overwhelmed by neighbors bringing delicious meals, labeled with reheating instructions.
All my family had to do was be present; we didn’t have to arrange complex meal orders or send someone out into a world that didn’t understand our grief.
Regardless of my own sacrifices, I hope to extend a helping hand when others truly need it. I’ll figure out where to draw the line (hint: it’s probably just before your sister’s kid’s best friend’s origami fundraiser). I like to believe that when I face my own challenges in life, someone will ring my doorbell with a delightful kale salad and toasted pepitas, reminding me of the connection we all crave.
Summary:
Navigating boundaries can be tricky, especially when the urge to help others conflicts with personal limits. The author reflects on experiences that led to stress and overcommitment, realizing that it’s okay to say no. Healthy boundaries can lead to greater happiness, and while it’s important to support others, it’s equally vital to take care of oneself.