Boundaries Are Not Barriers, Protecting Peace in Every Season.

There is a peculiar sort of pride we often take in being ‘low maintenance’. It sits somewhere between a badge of honour and a chronic ailment. You know the feeling well. It is that specific, heavy exhaustion that settles deep in your bones when you have said ‘yes’ to a dinner party you dread, agreed to bake three dozen cupcakes for a school fete you don’t even attend, and promised to help a colleague with a project that isn't in your job description, all in the same week. We treat our energy like an infinite resource, terrified that if we say ‘no’, we will be perceived as difficult, selfish, or worst of all, unhelpful. But here is the brilliant, somewhat terrifying truth: if you do not set a perimeter around your life, the world will happily set one for you, and it will likely be right through the middle of your living room.

For years, I operated under the delusion that a boundary was a barrier, a brick wall topped with broken glass and barbed wire, designed to keep people out. I thought boundaries were for grumpy neighbours and people who hated fun. I couldn't have been more wrong. A boundary isn't a wall; it is a garden gate. It is the architectural difference between a fortress and a home. A fortress is lonely and isolated; a home with a gate allows you to choose who comes in, when they come in, and perhaps most importantly, when it is time for them to go home so you can put on your pyjamas and stare at the wall in silence.

When we view boundaries as barriers, we act out of fear. When we view them as protection for our peace, we act out of love, both for ourselves and for the people we care about.

Consider the psychology behind why we struggle with this. Dr. Brené Brown, a research professor who has spent decades studying vulnerability, famously said, "Clear is kind. Unclear is unkind." When we waffle, apologise profusely, or say yes when we mean no, we aren't being nice; we are being dishonest. We are building resentment. Have you ever agreed to do a favour for a friend, but whilst doing it, you were seething with inner rage, muttering under your breath about how busy you are? That isn't kindness. That is a friendship slowly eroding because the ‘barrier’ of resentment has replaced the ‘boundary’ of honesty.

We need look no further than the world of elite sports to see this in action. Cast your mind back to the Tokyo Olympics. Simone Biles, arguably the greatest gymnast of all time, stepped back from the competition. She didn't do it because she was weak; she did it because she recognised that her mental and physical safety was at risk.

The world gasped. Some criticised. But the vast majority watched a young woman redefine strength in real-time. She showed us that protecting your peace is a form of high performance. She wasn't building a barrier against her team or her country; she was protecting the asset, herself. If she had broken herself to please the crowd, she would have had nothing left to give. By pausing, she preserved her longevity. It was a masterclass in the fact that you cannot pour from an empty cup, no matter how much the world demands a drink.

However, boundaries are not static things. This is where the concept of ‘seasons’ becomes vital. A mistake we often make is thinking that once we set a rule, it is etched in stone forever. But life is fluid. The boundaries you needed in your twenties, when you were perhaps hustling to build a career and saying yes to every opportunity are not the same boundaries you need in a season of grief, or new parenthood, or burnout.

I recall a story regarding the British singer Adele. During her hiatuses, she effectively disappears. She doesn't feed the 24-hour news cycle; she doesn't update social media just to stay relevant. She goes away, lives her life, gathers her experiences, and protects her privacy fiercely. When she returns, she has something of value to offer. If she were constantly accessible, the art would suffer. Her boundary allows her creativity to survive. Your life is no different. In a season of high stress, your garden gate might need to be closed more often. In a season of abundance and high energy, you might prop it open and host the neighbourhood barbecue. Neither is wrong. Both are necessary.

So, how do we actually do this without feeling like a villain in a period drama? How do we implement these protections in a way that remains human and kind?

It starts with the ‘Pausing Tactic’. The British are famous for their politeness, often to a fault. We apologise when someone else bumps into us. This reflex makes us say "Yes, course!" before our brain has processed the request. The solution is to buy time. You do not need to give an answer immediately. A simple, "That sounds lovely, let me check my diary and get back to you," is a lifesaver. It moves you from a reaction to a response. It gives you the space to ask yourself: Do I actually want to do this? Do I have the energy?

Secondly, we must stop over-explaining. This is the ‘barrier’ trap. We feel that if we say no, we must provide a court-admissible dossier of evidence as to why. "I can't come because my cat is sick, and I have a headache, and I might have to work..." No. "I’m afraid I can’t make it, but thank you for asking," is a complete sentence. You are protecting your peace, not standing trial.

There is also a very modern necessity for digital boundaries. We walk around with devices that allow anyone to interrupt our dinner, our sleep, and our thoughts 24 hours a day. It is madness. To protect your peace, you must reclaim your right to be unavailable. Using ‘Do Not Disturb’ modes or having phone-free hours isn't antisocial; it is how you ensure that when you are with people, you are actually with them, rather than scrolling through the holiday photos of a stranger you went to secondary school with.

Ultimately, boundaries are the tools we use to curate a life that feels good on the inside, not just one that looks impressive on the outside. They are the soil in which our relationships grow. When people know where you stand, they feel safe with you. They know that your ‘yes’ is a real ‘yes’, not a ‘yes’ laced with obligation.

Imagine, just for a moment, a life where you only committed to things that aligned with your values and your energy levels. Imagine ending the week tired because you did good work, not because you were managing everyone else's emotions. That isn't a fantasy. It is what happens when you realise that you are the gardener of your own life. You get to decide what grows there. So, check your gate. Oil the hinges. And remember, it is perfectly okay to close it when the wind gets cold.