Boundaries

A previous supervisor accused me of not thinking before I write. So, I would like to go on record as having thought, at least to a degree, before I wrote this particular post.

This post will be a tiny bit different than what I normally do. Reader, if you'd be so kind as to indulge me, I need to just type this up to unravel it out of my head. I'm hurting, and it seems that I need to type it out to flush it out of my system. Hopefully my putting this in cyberspace will help somebody else, but if not, thank you anyway for reading. Because I'm worth helping myself, right? So, this particular post will probably be a messy heap of meditative philosophical whining. Of course you are welcome to skip this post if you'd rather not read it. But I thought ahead enough to take a picture of my cats. See?

I am not a teacher or a minister, and I definitely don't have all the answers. But I would like to talk a little bit about the concept of boundaries for the sake of any readers who have never heard of this concept before. (It blesses me when people explain concepts to me instead of assuming that I already know about them.) Cloud & Townsend explain the concept of boundaries pretty well in their books, so they would be the experts to consult. My quirky right-brained definition of a boundary is a limit that shouldn't be crossed. A fence is an example of a boundary. If I put a fence around my property, and you cross it, you'll be trespassing. Only I can authorize you to cross the boundary into my property. At least, that's how I see it. And I definitely don't see it perfectly.

Cats are extremely difficult to set boundaries with because they're so stubborn and insistent, but at least once you get the hang of their ways, they can be so much easier to deal with than human beings. At least I can tell where one cat ends and the other begins. See Macho in the foreground and Choochie in the background?

Sometimes when I tell my cats "no," they obey and respect my boundary, and other times they ignore me and proceed with the boundary violation. When that happens, I have to shoo them away from my kitchen counter or hunt them down inside a cabinet or chase after them in the living room or something like that. But they're cats. They can't be mad at me, because I'm the keeper of the Purina. They're stuck with me for life.

People are so much more complicated. I know, because I am a person. When you draw a boundary with a cat, they won't accuse you of being an incompetent slob or a bad friend. They'll just gripe momentarily and move on with life. Next thing you know, they'll be perching on your thigh and purring and watching you type up a blog post.

But when you draw a boundary with a person, you'll see right away what's in their hearts. Either they'll describe your boundary as chicken [bleep], or they'll apologize for being a jerk. Either they'll wag their head at you and say that it's your loss, or they'll take the boundary like a man and remain diplomatically silent. Either they'll lecture you for not accepting them, or they'll wish you well and tell you that they're praying for you. Or something in between. I've responded in all sorts of ways that I'm not proud of when people have drawn boundaries with me. That "Unfriend" button on Facebook can send a pretty loud message.

I've said this before, but I'll say again that pruning hurts. I'm not sure if real vines bleed when you hack away at them, but this crazy-cat-lady branch grafted into the Vine can bleed quite profusely.

Speaking of the Vine, Jesus understands exactly what it's like to be reviled. He understands how important it is to forgive and extend grace, because He is full of grace and truth, and He is love. I think forgiveness, grace, truth, mercy, and love probably pump through His beautiful veins like liquid gold. They shine from His face and warm everything around Him. They shoot out of His mouth on His sword and slice through the accuser's stenchy halitosis.

And I'm weirdly thankful for getting verbally puked on after setting some boundaries, because the puke confirms my decisions for me. Hmm. So, that person's little remarks here and there really were bad, and maybe I was either too naive or giving too much of the benefit of the doubt to notice.

So, I'm not crazy. My previous supervisor is not allowed inside my head, so there's no way this person could ever know whether or not I think before writing. I think that's a common-sense boundary. Saying that my writing sucks is one thing. Saying that I don't think is crossing the line.

Honesty is a trait that I've grown to value in people. Even people who are way too outspoken have my respect because they at least speak the truth, and/or are honest about how they feel. They're usually very good at setting boundaries, too, because they're not afraid of identifying where one thing ends and another begins.

If you deal with me, you'll get the honest truth, unless I just don't want to tell you how I feel. So, thank you for asking me why I was sulking around the office, thank you for giving me the opportunity to tell you what I thought about you, sorry I made you cry, and sorry you felt like you had to ask me to do dishonest things while I worked for you. Sorry if wearing my heart on the end of my nose makes you uncomfortable. I'm glad I don't work for you anymore, and I'm glad I don't have to cover for you all the time.

I'm going to stick with the people who aren't afraid of "wounding" me faithfully, instead of "kissing" me deceitfully, like it talks about in Proverbs. I get to choose who I get to be friends with. I think that should be an unspoken common-sense boundary. I'm glad that Jesus is the Friend who sticks closer than a brother, like it talks about in Proverbs, and I'm glad I can be as honest with Him as I want. I'm glad He encourages it. And I'm glad He wants my boundaries to fall in pleasant places, like it talks about in Psalm 16.

If you'll excuse me, I'm exhausted and will now retire for the evening and hopefully fall asleep in the arms of my Father without soaking my face into my pillow. But if I need to, I'm glad He doesn't mind collecting my tears in His bottle, like it talks about in Psalm 56.

I still don't understand how one minute, everything's wonderful, and the next minute, it's like somebody flips a switch and I'm a reject. Hmm. Jesus can help me figure this out. He understands this completely.