Chapter 1: The Journey of Self-Discovery

In the aftermath of my ACL reconstruction surgery, shortly before turning 43, I reflected on a deeply personal topic: lying by omission. This subject resonated with me, as I had been misled repeatedly by someone close. My anger was palpable; reading my earlier work reveals a torrent of frustration. I was essentially crying out, "This is unacceptable! Your treatment of me is intolerable!"

The individual in question never engaged with my writing, which is entirely their choice. Eventually, I had to confront not just the emotional turmoil but also the person responsible for crossing my boundaries.

Everyone has their unique coping mechanisms when facing adversity, and mine is writing. It serves as a tool for clarity and processing my experiences.

Sometimes, my writing manifests as frantic scribbles in a journal — a chaotic jumble of emotions that I struggle to decipher later. Other times, I approach it more methodically, conducting research and synthesizing my thoughts, leading to conclusions that helped me work through my burnout and inspired two of my books.

Now, one year later, I've found myself a victim of omission once more, and it hurts. I joke about whether I should share my harshest writings on personal betrayal with new acquaintances. While it may seem extreme, surely there are healthier ways to establish boundaries. And indeed, there are.

For me, the challenge isn’t a lack of knowledge about boundaries or their significance. I understand both well (many valuable resources exist for those interested). Instead, my struggle lies in the fear of what might happen if I enforce them. This fear manifests in two ways:

1. A small part of me doubts my right to have boundaries. Growing up, my role was to ensure others' happiness — to suppress my emotions and needs. Thankfully, therapy has helped me embrace the belief that I deserve boundaries.
2. I also fear rejection when asserting my needs. Even when done kindly, there’s a lingering anxiety that expressing my boundaries may lead to withdrawal or rejection from others. As someone who has long battled people-pleasing tendencies, the thought of rejection is daunting.

Gradually, I am discovering the advantages of establishing and maintaining my boundaries. I’m learning to accept that while the sting of rejection may be painful, it’s far less harmful than the ongoing hurt of having my boundaries disregarded repeatedly.

An unexpected benefit of this journey is the profound strength and self-care I gain from establishing and protecting my boundaries; it feels almost magical.