Becoming

 Michelle Obama titled her book Becoming, and perhaps one of the reasons that it was so popular is that most of us can relate: we're all becoming.

I am no different. I've been on a journey, but that journey is a process that I can't entirely predict, except to say that I'm determined to get a happy ending, whatever that may mean.

Lately, I'm working on my process more. It's the end of the school year - two weeks left! - and I'm barely holding on, fighting what Urgent Care says is likely walking pneumonia, and definitely under the weather physically. But the end of this school year is so close, and it is such a relief to think that I've made it this far, and that I will likely make it across the finish line (even if I am stumbling, I'll make it). Summer opens up a world of possibilities, and a chance to set the reset button, as well as to have adventures, and I'm SO ready for that. It's a time of year when I process what's working in my life, and what I want to do more or less of. 

I have things I'm looking forward to - a long list. I can't wait to sit on a beach and read in the sunshine (and every day of my life I'm so grateful that a lovely park with a beach is a mere mile - walking distance - from my home). I can't wait to have the neighbors over for BBQ or Aperol Spritzes. I can't wait for summer concerts (I have a number of tickets, including the much coveted Taylor Swift concert), for long hikes, for camping. And I've got a long list of projects: painting my bedroom, fixing a leaning fence, gardening.

But the biggest project of all is myself.

I'm back in therapy, and we've only had one session so far, but she's my favorite therapist from long ago, and I was able to return to her because now she takes my insurance. Even though our one session so far (the next one is next week) could only cover a tiny amount of ground, it set the wheels in motion for me to think about who am I, who I am not, who I long to be, and all of the patterns - good, bad, and neutral - in my life. This is a wonderful time for me to start therapy, because I'm not dealing with anything 'big' - my life is, for the most part, really good. I just want to make it better, move on to the next plane of my existence, fulfilling some of my potential that is yet untapped.

I do think it's working.

Recently (and the details really aren't important) someone at work crossed a boundary in their behavior to me. I calmly asked them to stop; they continued. I asked again, slightly more firmly. They were clearly offended that I asked for this (entirely reasonable) boundary, and stomped off, stuck in their own feelings. Usually, in this type of situation, I would have gone to that person to try to fix, solve, explain, and engage. Usually I would have carried the weight of it inside me, processing how I could have made it go better, whether or not I was in the wrong, how I could help them see my side.

But not this time, and not because of my relationship with this person, but because of my relationship with myself. This time, somehow I knew with certainty that I was "allowed" to have boundaries, that my boundaries are reasonable, and that "hurt people hurt people" and that this person's behavior was about them, not me. I shook my head and thought "what the actual ***!" but then I moved on. Not unsurprisingly, after a few weeks, this person contacted me, still not understanding that their behavior was inappropriate (because hurt people hurt people, I keep reminding myself), and wanted to engage further. Again, I set my boundaries - clearly stating that I did not appreciate being yelled at or talked over, and that I could not sign up on a project with them knowing that such behavior was likely to be repeated (this was not the first time I've had difficult interactions with this individual).

There's some discomfort - now they won't like me! Maybe they can't see it my way! Maybe they will say things about me to other coworkers! - but there is also... peace.

I know who I am, and I know that people don't always do or say what I wish they would - and that's okay. I also know that when someone crosses my boundaries, I am allowed to state my needs and hold the boundary.

Honestly, reading this, it seems like a giant, "duh!" and like the most obvious statement ever... but if it was so obvious, it wouldn't be so hard. I grew up in a family where boundaries were not encouraged or respected, and sometimes they were even mocked. I was taught to place my parents' (and brother's) needs before my own, and that if I didn't do so it was because I was selfish, or lazy, or stupid, or unloving. 

Case in point: sometime around the time I was ten, my mom was crossing boundaries (yelling at me, not respecting my clothing choices if they were different than hers, keeping me close to her and saying that if I loved her I wouldn't go with my friends, I'd want to be with her...) and I got mad and told her to stop, and that she was being unfair. Her response was to cry, and to say, "Well, since I'm such a terrible mother, I guess I'll just put you up for adoption so that you can get the family you deserve..." and her ploy worked. I was SO frightened that she would follow through, that I begged for her forgiveness and told her she was the best mom ever and that I'd do better.

I learned my lesson: setting boundaries leads to withdrawal of love and support. Is it any wonder I had difficulty setting boundaries after learning such lessons so young? The lesson was repeated over and over. I've been out of contact with my parents for several years (my father shouting "I'm ashamed to be your father! I'm ashamed you are my daughter!" in response to something political I put on Facebook was my final straw...!) but a couple summers ago my mom was sick with Covid and I feared she would die, so I called her. The call was horrible. She said she missed me, and I said "I would love to have a relationship with you. If you can agree to no name calling, yelling, or belittling, I can be in relationship with you..." and she said, huffily, "Oh? So you've got boundaries now?!" and basically ended the call.

So no, I haven't done the best with boundaries in all parts of my life. But - and this is the key part - what has happened in my past doesn't define me, and I CAN learn. I've set boundaries in a number of places in my life, and the more I do it, the easier it gets somehow.

So, telling this coworker that I had a boundary and that I was holding it, well, it was a big deal to me. And knowing that I can't control their reaction, and that they might be mad at me (oh how I have struggled to "let" people be mad at me!) is ground breaking. They might not like me, respect me, or understand me. They might be mad.

But I like me. I respect me. And I understand that I AM allowed to put reasonable boundaries in my life. And it's okay if someone's mad at me. People get mad. *I* get mad. And we all muddle through.

It feels pretty liberating to know that I can manage this, that I don't need to replay conversations in my head.

Although my experience is much less dramatic, it makes me think of how Kanye stole Taylor Swift's moment at the MTV awards - a very upsetting and public display - and how years later she wrote "and then it happened one beautiful night: I forgot that you existed!" Kanye is allowed to be mad, to be protective of Beyonce'. And Taylor was right to say, "But you don't get space in my life."

*I* get space in my life. And I get to say what works for me, and take the consequences of my decisions. This feels like brand new territory, because while I've set boundaries before (isn't divorce the biggest boundary, really?) I've also tossed and turned over the minutia of my decisions, longing to explain myself, trying to make everyone happy. And now:

I know what my boundaries are. I hold them. If they need adjusting I will adjust, but if they're working and I feel that they're reasonable, I won't adjust.

It's that simple, and that complicated.

53 years old and this old dog is definitely learning new tricks. I hope that I can help my beloved daughter to learn this if she hasn't already, because my life would have been significantly better if I'd figured this out approximately 50 years ago, and I want her life to exceed mine even as I reach for my own stars.

Celebrating this small/huge success! (By going to bed early. Walking pneumonia sucks. G'night!)