Good fences make good neighbours

Over the last couple of months, ever since someone tromped all over one of my personal boundaries, I've been doing a lot of thinking about boundaries or personal limits, what they are, why they're important, how to recognize them if and when they exist, and how to respect them. I've even thought a little about when it is okay to cross those boundaries, and when it is NEVER okay to do so. 

Until I was in my forties, I didn't even know that personal boundaries existed, because when I was growing up, they didn't. When I started realizing that I had a right to take up space, that others had boundaries that I was not allowed to cross and that the same applied to me, I started realizing how many times throughout my life that people had barged onto my private property, even in the name of "caring," and proceeded to wrestle my rights to the ground. 

For example, I kept a diary when I was a teen. In it, I poured out my hopes, wishes and dreams, ideas I had, no matter how outlandish. I explored the depth of the feelings I was feeling, confided my deepest thoughts, and I found that in doing so, there was an outlet, a way for me to work through a very confusing and intense period in my life. 

One day, my mother found it. 
She read it.
She was horrified by the subject matter and the intensity.

She made me burn it. Not just it, but all of them that had gone before.

I sat in front of the furnace and wept in grief and intense anger and hatred as I burned - page after page - was forced to destroy what to me represented my soul: literally months and years of a journey I could have looked back on in my twenties and thirties ... and laughed about. 

That was a boundary that should never have been crossed. 
My mom thought she was being a good mom, protecting me, raising me "right." But she violated my privacy, judged me, and her punishment was way over the top.

It took me decades to forgive her. And yes, that was something that needed to be forgiven because IT WAS WRONG, and it hurt me terribly, even though she never apologized. 

Photo "White Fence" courtesy of scottchan at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

When I had children of my own, I made mistakes with them too. I remember freaking out when I saw some things that one or the other of the kids was doing ... and then I remembered my old diary. And it made me stop and rethink. And yes, when I'd jumped over a fence onto their territory, I apologized ... eventually.

I remember that while they were still small and there were going to be people coming over to the house for a visit, people with children their age or thereabouts ... I would tell them to go through their things in advance and set aside those "special" toys that they didn't want to share, and we'd put them in a separate room that was off-limits until the guests went home. That way, they didn't have to feel forced to share ALL of their toys. It modeled for them that there are boundaries, that boundaries are a good thing to have, and that they had a right to their own privacy. That was HUGE. 

And it was one thing (among many) which helped me to build their trust over the years so that later, when I discovered something that I thought was horrible, I was able to listen and find out the "why" instead of freaking out and shutting forever conduits of communication that I wanted to stay open. I don't need to share exactly what those things were, because that's their stuff, not mine. But that communication stayed open, and at the end of the day, I'd rather that than secrets and lies.

So here's what I've learned about fences and about being a good neighbour.

• People have the right to have their own opinions. It is not my job to put them down for their beliefs and lifestyles.
• "Talking down" to someone is never okay. That includes both tone and body position. If someone is seated, sit. If they are shorter than you are, position yourself to be on the same level as they are, at the same eye level. 
• Nobody is any better than anyone else, regardless of age, gender, economical status, social standing, race, or belief. We are all in this together.
• Nobody has the right to tell anyone else what to do. Not even if asked. Giving advice is never a good idea. And downright giving orders (for whatever reason, even "caring,") makes people want to do the exact opposite of what you tell them. And they will never trust anyone who manipulates and controls them.
• People have the right to feel what they feel. Feelings are not wrong and need never be treated as such, regardless of age or gender. Babies to seniors, male to female and everything in between, feelings are feelings and they are valid and real to whoever feels them. 
• Kindness and acceptance go a lot further than condemnation and self-righteousness.

Good boundaries really do make good neighbours, good parents, good friends, and good spouses. The virtue of respect is one that - if cultivated in one's own heart and mind - can make this world a much better place. And, like all virtues, it is developed and nourished from the inside out.

More than meets the eye

For the past couple of months, we've not been able to use the left side of our double kitchen sink due to a leak in the drain. Hubby put a container under the sink to catch the drips from when someone "forgot" and used that side of the sink, but he finally got fed up ... and called a plumber. He happened to mention that the remaining drain seemed sluggish, so the guy agreed to take a look at that too, while he was here.

He arrived early this morning. A few minutes later, the offending pipe crumbled in his hands from being rusted through. A replacement pipe, wow. Things could be worse.

The problem with the other side of the sink, though - the side of the sink we were still able to use - was more involved than just using an auger to clean out the sink trap, or replacing a piece of pipe. No - it went way deeper. All of the drain pipes were up to 50% coated on the inside with the sludge of decades of use, people washing dishes, draining off the fat from meat, etc. Down the drain all that stuff would go, and .. out of sight, out of mind. 

Until now. 

Photo "Rusty Water Tap" by
franky242 at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Since I was home today, I got to see (and hear) them at work. It was a rather long and involved process ... and I couldn't help but think of the parallels between our plumbing problem and the situation many of us face when we've been trying to look after everyone else's crud for so many years. We pride ourselves on our ability to deal, even tell ourselves that we're doing what's right ... and then we wonder why we're sluggish, why we're sometimes barely able to function. 

So we ask for help and we think, yeah, this is an easy fix. Until it isn't. 

We end up having to replace some stuff in our lives with other, more functional stuff. That part is fine. But it's when we start digging a little deeper that we find that there's ever so much sludge we've allowed to accumulate. Things like making allowances for other people's mistakes, covering for them, not letting them experience the consequences of their own actions, and so forth. Learning to accept that these tendencies are there is hard - but it's a necessary step in being able to be willing to open ourselves to change. And, the malady goes so deep - it's so much a part of how we define ourselves - that the only way to handle it is to ream all that goo out of our psyches where it's had a chance to congeal and harden ... which takes time. 

It's inconvenient. It's painful, even. We have to put considerable investment into it. But getting help from someone who knows how to navigate those things means that it will take less time with fewer mistakes than if we tried doing it by ourselves. That's worth the inconvenience. 

And having that stuff removed from our lives makes the pain worth while as well. It's just the process that is the hard part. So we knuckle down, pay the price, and let it happen. 

The frustrating thing about inner healing, or growth, or recovery - whatever you want to call it - is that those looking on from the sidelines can't see any of the things we go through to get from A to B. All they see (if they are perceptive enough) are the results - the new attitudes we develop, the relationships that we begin (and end), and the things we say yes (and no) to, for example. This is a journey that is more than what it appears. There is more to it than what meets the eye. There are deeper issues. There is much that is unseen and that may never be seen. 

However, when we enter the process (and truth be told, many times we might not have undertaken the process if we'd known how much was involved), and when we are open and honest with ourselves, it's almost as though the changes happen without us even being aware of most of them. We just suddenly find ourselves doing something that we never would have dreamed of doing before ... and ask ourselves where that came from!  

Yes, there's more to it than meets the eye, but on the whole, it's worth the trouble. And someday, maybe even today, we'll even be grateful that the old pipe sprang a leak in the first place.

Direction ... Not Destination

“It becomes easier for me to accept myself as a decidedly imperfect person, who by no means functions at all times in the way in which I would like to function. This must seem to some like a very strange direction in which to move. It seems to me to have value because the curious paradox is that when I accept myself as I am, then I change.”
- - Carl Rogers, On Becoming a Person: A Therapist's View of Psychotherapy

About a month ago, I sat across from someone who really listened to me and heard my concerns. He wasn't a therapist, and quite frankly, to listen to his career accomplishments, I would have considered him to be unapproachable under normal circumstances (at least, what normal was for most of my life). However, I had heard him open his heart and share his passion with people... and I knew instinctively that he could be trusted.  So I poured out my heart to him. And he listened. And he cared. 

In doing what I did, I admitted to myself that I was not happy with the current state of affairs and that I wanted something to change. I also admitted to myself that I didn't have the power to change anything about my circumstances, but I could talk to someone who did. 

And you know, it happened. When I heard what had been done to fix things, it was like someone removed a 70-pound pack from my back, one that I'd been carrying around for a year. The relief was so great and so tangible that I welled up and spilled over in tears for a few minutes. And then I contacted the man who had listened - and I thanked him. It was all I could think to do. And it was as natural to do that as to take my next breath. 

I write all that because ... because seven years ago, I never would have been able to reach out like that and ask for help. I would have suffered - perhaps not in silence, but in helplessness and misery - and today I realize that the person I was then was me, and the person I am now is still me ... only better, healthier. And the catalyst for change was nothing other than accepting the me that I was then the WAY I was then - and learning to like that person. (By the way,  I had help.)

Photo "Woman Relaxing With Her Eyes Closed"
courtesy of photostock at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Without realizing it, my behavior and my attitudes about things (not necessarily in that order) began to change. The change was automatic. I didn't have to work at it, except to realize and be aware of my behavior patterns. There were a lot of uncompleted sentences and one-eighties in the beginning as I learned a new way to be. I was becoming a better me. And I still am.

As you can tell from the above quote, I love to read things that Carl Rogers (father of modern psychotherapy) said or wrote. (I even listened to part of one of his taped sessions once. It was amazing.) He also said something else about personal growth. He said that it wasn't a destination ... that it was a direction. A process, not a product. That is my experience. Some of that experience was pretty intense - it involved doing things that were hard - but I tackled them when and as I was ready for them, and not before ... and I still do. 

But the weird thing about it all is that without that core of acceptance of who and what I am at the moment, none of the changes I've experienced (and am experiencing) would have been possible or would be possible. It is, as Rogers said, a "curious paradox." 

I can't explain how it works. It just does. Slow but sure, millimeter by millimeter.
And I'm okay with that.