Boundaries

I've been thinking a lot about boundaries lately, especially the part where I don't seem to have any. Seriously, the crap I let my ex get away with would amaze you. To paraphrase, he wanted someone who would, to quote the timeless poetry of Sara Barielles, ride off into his delusional sunset. And the sick thing is, I did it. Whatever he wanted, that was what we did. I didn't get to eat when I was hungry, rest when I was tired, leave when I was ready, be comforted when I was sad, vent when I was angry, except when it was amenable to him. Everything, from vacations to sex to child rearing, it was all on his terms. Resistance was futile.

It's not that he is an overtly mean person - most people think he's quite nice, until they are on the receiving end of his narcissism. Even then, his form of manipulation is so subtle that often you don't realize what happened; you know you feel violated, but you don't know why. He doesn't yell, he doesn't throw things, he seems reasonable and oh-so-nice, but what he wants is what is going to happen, period. He pushes and pushes and pushes until he gets what he wants, and he will run over you with a bulldozer and never stop smiling. It's like Chinese water torture. I quickly learned that it was just easier to give him what he wanted, because he was never going to stop pushing. By the end - and the end came about 6 months before I had an affair - I felt like I didn't have any skin left. I felt like a pulpy mass of exposed nerves, and no one knew, because he was such a "nice" guy. It was a painful, enclosed, lonely, horrible place to be.

So, how do I not end up there again? The more I look at myself, the more I know I am susceptible to being manipulated in all kinds of relationships, from work to friendships to love. I was custom-built for someone like my ex. My whole life, I avoided conflict, because it always ended up with me losing, often painfully. So I just stopped resisting. In a way, there was sort of a Zen-like quality to the idea of bending so I wouldn't break. Only it didn't lead to a peaceful, detached, enlightened Nirvana. It let to footprints on my back. Once I realized that, it was as if a new lens clicked into place over my vision. I could never see my marriage the same way. I could never see any relationship the same way. Some say my spine grew 3 sizes that day (sorry, I've been reading too much Dr. Seuss with my son).

DB is a sweet, kind man, but he is human, and he has his own agenda. He does not want to manipulate me, but we all want what we want, particularly from those who are closest to us. Boundaries are important. Not to shut anyone out, or in; I think of it as more like a permeable membrane than a wall. I envision a barrier that lets certain things pass through, but protects my structural integrity and separateness.

Frost was right: "Something there is that doesn't love a wall,/That wants it down." ("Mending Wall," the poem is here). But we need to know where others end and we begin, and we need to know the difference.