Boundaries used to feel like punishment to me.
Growing up in a narcissistic family system, boundaries were treated as:
- disrespect
- rebellion
- abandonment
- disloyalty
Nobody taught me that boundaries are actually the conditions required for growth — not just for me, but for the other person, too.
Lately, I’ve been reflecting on three major boundaries in my life.
Three completely different situations.
Three radically different outcomes.
And yet, all of them are good.
Let’s dive in, shall we?
1. My Son — Boundaries as a Catalyst for Growth
When my 22 year old son faced homelessness not once, but twice after we moved to Washington, the old instinct in me — shaped by decades of parentification — wanted to rescue him.
But I didn’t collapse into codependency.
I didn’t try to be the savior.
I didn’t lose myself trying to fix what wasn’t mine to fix.
I held the boundary:
“I’m here for you, but I can’t live your life for you.”
The result?
He stepped up.
He learned.
He stabilized.
He grew.
Some boundaries don’t push people away.
They pull them upward into the adults they’re becoming.
2. My Daughter — Boundaries as a Mirror
This one required humility.
During the collapse year, I emotionally overflowed.
I reached out too much, too intensely, during her postpartum season — not out of entitlement, but out of drowning.
Still, she needed space.
And she set a boundary with me.
Not harshly.
Not maliciously.
Just clearly.
And instead of reacting from my wounded inner child, I did something new:
I let her boundary shape me.
It showed me:
- where old survival patterns were “leaking”
- where emotional overflow wasn’t fair to her
- where my work belonged elsewhere (in recovery communities, writing, therapy, internal work)
- where generational cycles were asking to be broken
Her boundary didn’t damage our relationship —
it deepened it.
This is what boundaries do with someone willing to grow.
3. My Mother — Boundaries as Revelation (Not the First Boundary, but the Last)
And then there is the boundary that changed everything: No Contact.
But here’s what people often misunderstand:
No Contact was not my first boundary with my mother.
It was my final one.
Before NC came a long line of smaller boundaries — each one an invitation for truth, connection, repair, or accountability:
- I asked honest questions.
- I gave openings to tell the truth.
- I offered opportunities for transparency.
- I allowed space for explanation.
- I paused instead of erupting.
- I waited.
- I listened.
And still, she chose deception over honesty.
Every. Single. Time.
Even when confronted with the DNA truth.
Even when the lies were collapsing in real time.
Even when the myth she built was already cracked open and exposed.
She had multiple chances to say:
- “Okay, let’s talk.”
- “I wasn’t honest, and I’m ready now.”
- “Here’s the truth.”
- “I’m sorry.”
- “Let’s repair this.”
Instead, she doubled down.
Then tripled down.
Then weaponized the fallout.
Then targeted my son when she lost control of the narrative.
People who haven’t lived through narcissistic systems often mistake No Contact for an impulsive decision — a moment of anger, a dramatic exit.
But in reality?
No Contact is what remains when every lesser boundary has been shattered.
NC was the boundary that said:
- “I will no longer participate in deception.”
- “I will no longer absorb the consequences of your choices.”
- “I will no longer sacrifice my mental health to protect your illusion.”
When I stepped back, something became undeniable:
She wasn’t interested in growth.
She wasn’t interested in truth.
She wasn’t interested in connection.
She wasn’t interested in repair.
The boundary didn’t push her away —
it simply revealed that she had no intention of walking toward me in truth.
Some boundaries don’t create growth.
They reveal the absence of it.
And that clarity, while painful, is still healing.
Three Situations, Three Outcomes — All Good
Because boundaries are not meant to control people.
Boundaries are meant to reveal people.
With my son → the boundary encouraged growth.
With my daughter → the boundary created growth in me.
With my mother → the boundary revealed that growth was impossible there.
Three boundaries.
Three truths.
Three forms of liberation.
Boundaries didn’t break my family.
They broke the illusion.
What was real remained.
What was harmful fell away.
What was meant to grow, grew.
And that is good.
