Selfless Autonomy
I’ve always had a problem with personal boundaries. My space is so often invaded that I can’t always tell when someones overstepped. Maybe I like to pretend that I let it happen because I’m a good person. And maybe it makes me feel horrible, stretching myself thin time and time again. But hey, at least I care; care about the wellbeing of others that I love, even if it’s at my own expense.
It’s almost funny, because I can say no. I say it all the time. I can say no to that party that’s supposed to happen tonight. I can say no to doing meth with that creep at the gas station. I can say no to literally almost anything and everything, but I have the hardest time saying no to the people that I love.
Training myself to have boundaries is exhausting. Healing my inner child whose boundaries were stolen feels like an impossible feat, especially when my personal space never felt like my own. It belonged to my parents or my siblings. It belonged to my friends. It belonged to my abuser.
It’s a constant battle where I tell myself that reclaiming my time, my body, my life is a good thing. Ignoring the ping in my heart everytime I say no is absolutely terrifying. My intuition tells me that something is wrong even when I know I’m right. It’s gaslighting to the highest degree, because I’m gaslighting myself.
The mind is so fragile; one push in the wrong direction can skew your whole world view. It can trick you into believing that you’re the bad guy, tell you that you always were. It can deceive you and entice you into settling into its warmth. The comfort of feeling needed, wanted.
The idea of space seems so small, so irrelevant, when you look at it through the lens of your immigrant parents and your younger siblings.
From the eyes of my friends with much bigger problems it must seem selfish of me to ask them for space. From the eyes of my mother and father who both work two jobs, I just know it seems evil for me to ask for space.
But when I sit in an empty room alone, I realize that the silence is soothing. The lack of pressure is calming and my mind is no longer racing.
In the quiet, I realize that the violation I allow to happen is a method of disrespect. Against myself.
I’m so worried about carrying the weight of others that I can’t even carry my own weight any longer. My bones are shaking and my knees are weak and the heft will eventually drag me to the floor.
And then in the silence I realize that me hustling, rushing, running to fulfill every request isn’t about the love I have for those that I value. I realize that it's always been about me and my own insecurities.
The silence forces me to look at myself for what I am.
Feeling like the only way I’m valid is through acts of service. Feeling like for once, people look at me and see me when I do something for them. Feeling like I’m no longer invisible.
I had been fighting so hard to escape myself, completely missing the fact that my emotional drain was guided by my own self doubts.
The illusion is finally shattered and the only thing that is left is an understanding of why. With this information, I recognize that there is an enormous amount of healing to be done. And that starts with me valuing myself because what that is, is anything but selfish.
What it is, is an act of respect towards my parents and my friends. My sister and my brother. It is me taking care of someone they care about. Who they value. Who I am learning to value.