Boundaries

Last Tuesday, I chose not to keep listening to George Couros’ Innovating Inside the Box audiobook as I rode to work; instead, I played Glennon’s second podcast episode. I didn’t expect the topic to hit a cord so intensely, so much that I needed to play it a second time. This episode pushed me to sit down and reflect on the boundaries I’ve been setting in secret. Boundaries that are helping me but that affect people I love.

I think of it as having a window into my life and my feelings and leaving it open so that whenever people around become curious about what’s in here, they can just come and see it. These boundaries help me control when that window opens and when it closes. 

So right now, I’ll let my writing do the work and then see what this struggle really means. Recently, I get anxious when life keeps me from writing, working out, or just spending some minutes totally alone. This feels so difficult to translate to others, and most times, I don’t even know if I should announce it. And when I say life, I mean my phone.

I know it’s in part my fault; no shame there. I am good at scrolling without purpose, and there’s Whatsapp. I have been very good at communicating instantly. I respond to text messages as fast as possible because I feel like I owe people that, and changing the pattern now feels very hard. That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t change it. It just means that I have to navigate how life happens with this new boundary. 

The idea of not caring about how quickly I respond to texts came to me while being in Cairo. I was going through a very tough time in my life, separated from my husband, fearful of my migratory uncertainty, and dealing with a pandemic in a dirty country. I was not okay, and I was afraid for my mental health. I quickly realized that to stay safe, I needed to isolate myself from the world for a little while and find the things that could bring me joy.  I actually wrote a list, and this is what I came up with:

• Clean the entire apartment, balcony included.
• Wash and blowdry my hair.
• Drink wine, put together a playlist, and write.
• Watch some repeated shows non-stop.
• Listen to educational podcasts or audiobooks.
• Getting groceries for a specific recipe and making delicious meals

When I finished writing the list, I noticed that I didn’t need anyone else to do those things. The opposite was true; I needed to be alone to do those things. And so, that’s what I did. People made it hard, though, because they loved me. They would try to make plans with me, invite me over to their houses, or even show up at mine for a chat. Whenever this happened, I felt the “friendship responsibility” weight on my shoulders and agreed to drop my list to see them for my own good.

Soon enough, I realized that it wasn’t for my own good. It wasn’t helping me or making me feel better. I kept looking at the list, sad that I was choosing other people over it. And the list was me. 

“Maybe if I pretend I’m asleep and ignore their messages/calls, maybe that way I can stay home and choose my list,” I thought. I went on Whatsapp and changed some settings to deal with the guilt monster I knew would come knocking if someone wrote to me and saw that blue double check mark shouting, “I read this, but I don’t want to answer right now.” I also turned off the “Last seen” option because I wanted to decide when to be on Whatsapp and when not to be without the possibility of someone messaging, “I saw you were just online, so….”

One of the positives of my crappy situation in Cairo was that people didn’t find it too odd if I went days without responding or sending life signals. Me needing some quiet made sense to most of them. So it worked. But then, I finally left that place and came back to “my real life,” and what I discovered was that I still wanted to hold on to that list; in fact, I wanted to add more things to it. So the Whatsapp settings became permanent, and a boundary was set. 

The consequences of that boundary were easy to predict; one is the assumptions of friends and family when they notice I don’t check messages or, when I do, take so long to write back. The other one is my blame growing exponentially. I find myself giving all these excuses so that people don’t think the worst of me; “I’ve been busy unpacking and organizing the apartment,” “Tim and I have been enjoying our time together,” “I started working and I don’t have time.” It goes on and on. 

I go to bed thinking about maybe squeezing a few WhatsApp minutes during my day, but my list items win the argument every time. I thought of this funny table to show what my mind looks like:

The promise I make	What ends up happening
“I’ll write to her when I get up tomorrow.”	I wake up, write, eat breakfast, and watch a show. Then it’s too late; time to go to work.
“I’ll message them on the Lyft to KLA.”	I start playing that audiobook or podcast I was listening to during the ride home the day before.
“I’ll check that message as soon as I get home.”	I get into my workout clothes and do my session for that day. Then, when Tim comes home, we talk about our day or have dinner together. When we don’t have dinner together, I still use that time for writing or reading something.
“I’ll get back to her during my lunch break.”	I’m nose deep in that book about teacher language.

It’s not like I never really respond to any messages, but it will often take me days to do so. And as I think about when I respond instantly, I remember instances when I didn’t have to say “No” to my list and communicate with that person. Those times I’ve felt joy texting with someone else because I love these people, and I do want to talk to them; I’ve just started living more for myself than for others.

I’m learning to accept that and not feel shame for choosing to spend my time this way. I hope that people who love me will love me with this new way of caring for myself.