Bending Over Backwards is the Antithesis to Healthy Boundaries

Ever wonder how some people seem to get what they want but you feel like an outsider in your own life? You bend over backwards for the people in your life EVEN strangers.

You do everything right: you don't cause a fuss, you color inside the lines, you keep your head down, you don't ask for much and yet…you can’t seem to get ahead or be appreciated for all that you do.

Storytime - My mother was that person for everyone in her life. The ONE: husband, son, me, aunts, sisters, nieces, nephews, in-laws, friends, co-workers, and yes to strangers.

You know the type: easy to get along with, kind, considerate, full of love—the kind of love that you just want to cozy up to and get it on tap.

She expired; she died at 50. Now all these people who depended on her had this enormous void, a crater-sized hole. Excluding the in-laws, friends, and co-workers, all the other people expected me to step into her shoes.

I never considered ‘being nice’ a good thing. I rather like kind as a concept because it has a built-in boundary. There is an implied choice. My mother’s life and death taught me very well about boundaries and the necessity to have them.

My mother was risk-averse, so I wildly took risks just so I wouldn’t be like her. She liked that for the most part; I would swear she planned it that way. She was THAT good.

I knew my father was devastated; his beloved, my mother and he were inseparable for over 28 years. I had heard the story of his good friend whose wife had passed (10) years before and her clothes still hung in the closet. I didn’t want that for my daddy, so after we buried her in Alabama, I flew home to New York early to pack her things. I reminisced about this garment or that one and tried to squeeze my feet into my favorite shoes of hers. I gave away her belongings and had everything handled and sorted by the time he returned home.

It helped me process and grieve and I am glad that I did it. What I didn’t expect came next. My brother and father became dependent on me: for all things household including cooking. And they were both home all day while I went to college and worked both full time.

I asked questions why on Earth they would still be hungry when they had ample time to prepare a meal. I was met with half answers and blank stares. I feared that if I didn’t put my foot down to stop this madness, I might become the result of my mother’s end.

There were no more family talks; we barely communicated; we just walked around in our own personal hells of our individual loss. So, I followed their lead and ate before I came home. I didn’t have the energy or emotional space to get into a debate with them for taking me for granted.

My mother’s surviving sister and my cousins were a totally other thing. I got a phone call from one of my cousins and she informed me that when my aunt spoke to me, she spent the rest of the day in bed because I sounded so much like my mother and it upset her. So I stopped calling. I didn’t know what else to do. I mourned yet again because I loved to talk to her. What was I supposed to do with that information besides what I did? My twenty-something-year-old mind didn’t have any other solution.

I shared my mother’s passing with my job because I needed the time off for her home-going services. After that, I don’t recall sharing anything with them. I kept my head down, did my job, and moved onto the next thing. A professor asked why I was doing poorly in his class after doing so well in class and I reminded him that my mother died. He asked me if it was really true right in front of the whole class. I confirmed through tears that yes it was true.

All the avenues I previously had (or that I thought I did) were stalled with no sight of beginning again or continuing, so I had to create my own version of family and healing with my friends and a good therapist. It was messy and hard and I didn’t have the emotional space to care what it looked like to anyone else. I was fighting for my life.

A violation of the worst kind because on the surface being the good girl is what you are trained to do and be. Being nice, apologizing when another steps on your toes, bend over backwards and say yes when you don’t want to doesn’t get you the results that you want.

When was the last time you spoke your truth WITHOUT censoring your feelings?

Can you speak your truth WITHOUT worrying or taking CARE of someone else's feelings? Of course this is within reason and in situations where there isn't any perceived danger. Here is the thing: a lot of 'danger' is the fear of not being liked, loved, or accepted.

Bonus - if a person can allow you to bend over backwards without self-correction on their part, then they don’t see you either.

Your Voice Does Matter. Your life as you see it unfolding matters. Care less and less about what others say or think about you and you will have the space to fulfill the dreams that are in your heart.