I always took things personally.
If someone looked at me the wrong way,
it was about me.
If someone rejected me, it was about me.
If someone cut me off on the highway, it was about me.
This is not unusual for people who grow up in violent, invasive homes.
With no boundary to protect us,
with so much relational trauma,
we cannot distinguish between what is ours, and what is theirs.
I remember the first time a therapist said the word ‘boundaries’ to me.
I looked at her puzzled and baffled,
while the word began to sink into my consciousness.
It was a startling depth charge to my habitual ways of being.
And now, after 25 years of healing and solidifying,
I can finally say that I don’t take things personally very often.
I know where I end, and the other begins.
Boundaries, boundaries, boundaries…
don’t leave home without them.
~ Jeff Brown
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