Ah, boundaries. Society has lots of them – we have geographical boundaries, professional boundaries, and the bounds of the law. But when it comes to setting our boundaries in our own relationships, we often hesitate.
We live in a world where interconnectedness is highly valued. This isn’t always a bad thing. Collaboration, communication, and supporting each other’s goals and aspirations can quite literally change the world. That being said, I am part of a generation that grew up with technology all throughout our teenage years. For those younger than I am, even more so. For kids now who have grown up with iPads, ebooks, and alphabet software on their parents’ smartphones (RIP the original Leap Pad… ‘90s babies know what I’m talking about here), I can only imagine that being disconnected is somewhat strange, even scary. I, myself, am often caught off-guard and slightly nervous when I forget my phone at home. It takes me longer than I would care to admit to remind myself that my parents were just fine without phones in their university days – nothing terrible happened to them because they couldn’t send that text or make that phone call. I’ve started to realize that I don’t have to be “on” 24/7, even in a world that’s increasingly encouraging us to do so.
Learning the importance of disconnecting for a while is inseparably tied with learning to set boundaries. While we may know that between 9am and 5pm we don’t hear from many people since they are at work or school, it’s often hard not to feel like the one day you decide to take a break will be THE day – the day where everything goes wrong, your friends need you, and you’re not around to help. In reality, though, what is the likelihood of this happening?
Being involved in ResLife, and with organizations like Wear Your Label, Jack.org, and The Mighty has been incredible, and the experiences I have had have changed my world, and my perspective on life in general. That being said, because of the nature of my roles, I end up having tough conversations a lot more than the average person. That’s okay. I love helping people, I love that people feel like they can open up to me, and talking about things that are *real*. I love working with people to help get to the bottom of what is going on, and connecting them to the resources that will help them learn to manage their stresses and symptoms.
Nighttime and mental health struggles aren’t exactly friends. When the sun goes down, people often feel lonely, isolated, and more frightened. What’s worse is that, when you are feeling bad about yourself, when you are scared, anxious, or lonely… your friends are asleep. The supports that are so wonderful during the day aren’t necessarily available to you at night. And that can be tough. I know this first-hand.
For as long as I can remember, I have had trouble sleeping (which I can now attribute to my anxiety). Thankfully, my sleep patterns have improved over the past five years or so, but I still sleep quite a bit less than I “should”. From the time I was small until I was 15, I just couldn’t sleep. And trust me, when I was 6, it was cute that I had to be tucked in just right, and checked in on before my parents went to bed. At 20, that would be pretty unreasonable. Up until my mid-teen years, I couldn’t be alone in my room, and distinctly remember begging my dad to let my dog sleep on my bed with me. I remember my parents saying that I couldn’t go to my course in Peru (March of Grade 10) if I didn’t learn how to sleep through the night without waking up. At the time, I was very familiar with 4am commercials and the show How It’s Made (I guess people who don’t have sleep problems don’t want to know how things are made, but it was on all the time). I knew more about melatonin, camomile tea, and nighttime rituals than most kids my age. Maybe it was mind over matter here, but I eventually learned a bit better what works for me in terms of sleep. Nevertheless, nighttime and I aren’t really the best of friends to this day. I no longer get a twisty feeling in my stomach when it’s 9 or 10pm, but I do sometimes lie awake, ruminating over the events of the day, trying to calm my unruly thoughts.
Because I “get it”, I don’t want anyone to feel like a burden. I don’t want them to think that they were wrong to speak up about their struggles – I truly believe that it’s never a bad thing to share what you are feeling. When most of my interactions with people late at night, and during the day, ended up helping people find support while navigating mental health crises, it became even harder. I didn’t want to tell someone in the middle of a panic attack that I couldn’t be there for them. I didn’t want to think about the “what if”s of if I didn’t answer the phone. I wanted everyone to be safe. I still do. But, after months of feeling like I had to be “on” all the time to be a good friend, advocate, RA, and person, it ended up being too much.
I still find myself hesitating to say or write anything about boundaries, because I’m worried that people who I’ve supported won’t reach out to me anymore. I’m worried that they’re read “boundaries” and think “burden”. Because, at times, I have too when my friends set boundaries with me. But I also know that the friends I have who are honest about their needs and their limitations have taught me more than anyone else these past few years. At the end of the day, I want to be there to help people. I want to be healthy enough to genuinely care and give emotional energy and attention to people who need it. And I can’t do that if I’m not in tune with my own needs or if I’m slacking on the self-care.
Being a support for people is great (I want to dedicate my life to it!) but while managing my own mental illness, I have to be mindful about my own limitations. Especially with all the sleep issues I had as a kid, which sometimes reappear in adulthood, I need to make sure I’m not losing too much sleep – I don’t know when a little bout of insomnia will hit, and I need all the rest I can get. I also know that giving my body the rest it needs is super important in lowering my anxiety levels and keeping myself well, happy, and thriving. This is something that I just can’t compromise on anymore.
I know myself. I know that some days, especially when my own anxiety is high, I just can’t talk someone through a panic attack. I know that on days I’m not feeling great about my body, I’ll have a harder time talking to someone about their eating habits, patterns, and restrictions, and their own body image concerns. I know I’ll need to take some extra time for self-care after these conversations, or even have to take a step back altogether.
So, what do you do when you’ve worked on understanding what you need, and you don’t know how to set boundaries that will help you get there? What do boundaries even look like? For me, setting boundaries has been one of the hardest things to learn. It was hard when I was an RA, it’s hard as a student, and it’s hard as an advocate. But it’s so worth it. The most helpful piece of advice I’ve learned when it comes to setting boundaries came from my boss: “it’s not your job to figure out if you are a burden – it’s the other person’s job to tell you when they need some space, or what their limitations are”. Sarah’s words really struck me, because in the moment, I was worried about being a burden myself. But it also goes both ways, and this conversation made me realize that people usually respect when you set boundaries. It might be uncomfortable at first, but in my experience they usually end up trusting you more, because they know you will only talk through something with them when you are in the right space to do so.
My boundaries look like this:
I need sleep. When I am exhausted, and I’m just really in need of some rest, I will tell someone. I will direct them to other resources, tell them I need some rest, and can check in with them the next morning.
I am not a mental healthcare provider (yet!). When someone is in crisis, I can help connect them with people who can address the root of the problem, and I can listen, but I can’t “fix” the situation.
I cannot promise I won’t tell anyone before you tell me what’s on your mind. If it’s something you’re working through, and I know that you’re safe, of course I will respect your wishes and keep what you’re going through to myself. And I would never spread it around to friends, your family, or anyone else. But, if I am concerned that your life is at risk, I can’t in good conscience not intervene and get you medical or psychiatric attention. You are too important to me.
My needs are different on any given day. Some days, I can talk to someone for hours and help them think of what their options are, and next steps they can take to help with their problems. Some days, I need my own mental health day, and I just can’t give someone the support that they need. It’s best for both of us if I say that I can’t have that conversation right now, but that the next day or on the weekend would work.
Your boundaries may be different than mine, and mine even change and grow as I do. But I encourage you to think about the kinds of boundaries that might be helpful to lower stress and anxiety in your life; setting boundaries can be a great form of self-care, but it can also be a form of healthcare when you have a lot on your plate. As always, I’m rooting for you.
Ally
