One of my clients recently brought a familiar dilemma into session: “I feel so frustrated and angry towards a colleague, and I hate that about myself. What does that say about me?”
As we talked it through, it became clear his boundaries had been quietly overstepped for a long time, without him ever quite naming it. He took on too much at work, struggled to say no to favours, and generally leaned into being “the nice one” - not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings.
What tends to happen to people who live like that? They stop being fully authentic. Frustration builds quietly, aimed inward. They smile on the outside and cringe on the inside, and then they feel guilty for even having that reaction in the first place.
A Metaphor That Stuck
Picture a wildlife park with one particularly gentle, friendly animal - so approachable that everyone who passes stops to look, to touch, to get close. Now imagine that animal, like any living creature, has better days and worse days, more sociable moods and less. What happens after months of constant, uninterrupted contact with strangers who assume access is a given?
Eventually, even the gentlest creature starts to protect itself - it withdraws, or it snaps.
So what has to change? Someone puts a boundary around it. Not out of unkindness, but out of care for its wellbeing.
Even the warmest, most easy-going people need space and limits to stay well. Without them, we get overwhelmed by everyone else’s needs and energy - and more often than not, it is self-imposed, because we have not yet learned to say clearly what we need.
It is worth asking yourself: would you let just anyone get close to someone you deeply cared about, unguarded? If the answer is no, it is worth asking why you are allowing it for yourself.
We only ever have what we tolerate.
Agatha x