Boundaries

The Real Cost of Boundaries (Spoiler: It’s Not What You Think)

Let me be direct: setting boundaries isn’t free. It’s not a magic switch you flip and suddenly have more time. I learned this the hard way, after burning out at 42 and spending a year unable to get out of bed. I thought boundaries were just about saying "no" to extra work. I was wrong.

Here’s the cost I paid, honestly:

• I gave up the "hero" identity. For years, I was the lawyer who stayed late, answered emails at 11 PM, and never said no. That was my currency. Boundaries meant stopping that. I lost the easy praise, the "you’re so reliable" nods. People felt my absence. Some stopped calling. It stung. I missed the validation, even though it was poison.

I gave up the illusion of control. I used to think I could do it all and be perfect. Boundaries forced me to admit I couldn’t. That meant letting go of projects, delegating (which felt like failure), and accepting that "good enough" was enough. The anxiety of not* being the one in charge was real.

• I gave up the comfort of being "nice." Saying "no" to a colleague’s last-minute demand, or setting a hard stop on work emails after 6 PM, made me feel selfish. I heard the quiet disappointment. I felt the tension. It cost me the easy peace of people-pleasing.

But here’s what I gained:

My life back. Not just time, but presence. I finally saw my twins’ faces without the fog of exhaustion. I could actually be with them, not just do* for them.

• My energy. The constant low-grade panic of overcommitment vanished. I had reserves for my own needs, my health, my joy.
• Respect. People stopped expecting me to be a human battery. They started valuing my actual capacity, not my false availability. True respect, not just the cheap kind.

Was it worth it? Absolutely. The cost wasn’t the absence of work or praise – it was the illusion of security I was clinging to. Boundaries cost me the old, broken version of myself. But the new version – the one who shows up for her kids, her health, her life – is worth every ounce of that discomfort. It’s not about giving up; it’s about making space for what truly matters. The cost was real. The gain? Priceless.

— Tracy Carlson, drawing the line

— Tracy Carlson, saying the thing since 2018