What I’m about to share with you will likely echo in your mind for days, reshaping how you think about boundaries and giving you a calmer, clearer way to deal with the difficult people in your life. If you read until the end, it might just change how you hold your peace from now on.
Listen.
The truth is, we’re all going to be, throughout life, constantly exposed to behaviours from others that are unpleasant, uncomfortable, lacking in competence, or simply not enough. Ranging from the mildly annoying to the painfully disruptive.
These encounters are inevitable. And the point, really, is not that we need to lower our standards or accept what we find undesirable or inappropriate. The real shift lies in how we choose to respond to these mismatches.
There’s a tendency, in many of us, to react intensely when someone fails to behave in a way we consider appropriate. It stirs something sharp, like hostility, frustration, irritability… and sets off a mental loop that plays on repeat. And more often than not, it’s this internal spiral, not the actual behaviour, that ends up causing the real suffering.
It might be worth learning how to put things into perspective, to allow others to be exactly as they are. This, in fact, brings to mind some wise words from Louise Hay, which go like this:
“I am important.
I count.
I now care and nourish myself with love and with joy.
I allow others the freedom to be who they are.
We are all safe and free.”
Exactly the part that says “I allow others the freedom to be who they are” is key.
That is, I act in coherence with the situation, I set boundaries, I leave, I distance myself, I accept, I negotiate, etc. Whatever is suitable in each case.
BUT.
I put things into perspective and work on this pain and suffering that it causes me when the Other doesn’t behave as I would wish.
Whether the other doesn’t behave how I’d like out of malice, ignorance, or incapacity. It doesn’t matter.
I don’t let this cause me such suffering. I let go. I allow, just as Louise Hay’s affirmation says, others to be as they are. I allow others the freedom to be who they are. And I let go.
I let go.
Their inadequate behaviour may not suit me, granted. But I don’t have to remain stuck in that suffering. I give others the freedom to be who they are. Because it has nothing to do with me. And it’s not my responsibility to fix it, or take care of it, or take charge of someone.
No.
Is your dissertation consultant incompetent?
Is your brother-in-law a fucking ignorant?
Did your so-called childhood friend hurt you with her comment?
Do you think your colleague is a freeloader?
Is your neighbour nosy and trying to get information every time they catch you off guard in the stairwell?
Ok. With those circumstances, I’ll do what is in my power, and the rest, what is not under my control, that is, their behaviour, I allow others to be as they are. I give others the freedom to be who they are.
“Because, we are all safe and free.”
And if I repeat myself, it’s because I need to. Because I find it hard too (guess what? psychologists are human too, flaws and all). So, even though I know it, I fall into it again.
Every time someone behaves in a way that feels selfish, clumsy, unnecessary, aggressive or simply lacking empathy… I experience it as a personal offence (I’m working on it, pinky promise!).
I get offended. I get irritated. I get tangled up in imaginary dialogues where I, of course, am always right. Where I explain, where I make my point, where I make it clear to the other person how wrong they are. And it exhausts me.
And the worst part: it’s useless.
U-S-E-L-E-S-S
Because none of that changes reality.
Because none of that alters the other person’s behaviour.
Because the other (breaking news!) is going to keep being who they are.
And this is where the radical act of letting go comes in. Of accepting. Not as resignation, but as liberation. Accepting that this person may never change. Accepting that their way of acting is a reflection of their story, their wounds, their limits. Whatever that may be. But, not of me.
And so… I choose.
I choose not to get stuck.
I choose to stop poisoning myself with the hope that one day that person will understand, reflect, apologise, improve.
Because while I wait for that, I miss out on life.
And life is here. In my mental peace. In my ability to put distance. In my capacity to protect my energy, my emotions, my body.
And it’s not easy. I know.
Ughhghhghgh I know.
Because we live in a culture that tells us we have to fight for everything. That we have to explain ourselves. That we have to defend ourselves. That we have to convince. That otherwise, we’re giving in. We’re losing.
But I no longer want to win arguments. I want to sleep peacefully.
And that means letting others live from their level of awareness. From their chaos. From their noise.
I don’t have to enter into it. I don’t have to join in. I don’t have to rescue anyone. Or save them. Or understand everything.
My only job is with myself. With how I react. With how I care for what happens inside me when the outside becomes uncomfortable.
So, I breathe.
I set boundaries.
And I let go.
Letting go doesn’t mean I condone their behaviour. It doesn’t mean I accept being mistreated or that I tolerate disrespect. It means I recognise the limits of what I can influence, and I choose to prioritise my well-being. It means I can say “no more” and still wish them well. It also means I can be clear without being cruel (again, I’m working on it!).
And yes, I repeat it again:
I give others the freedom to be who they are.
And I give myself the freedom to choose how I want to be.
There will be more people. New versions of the same archetypes. Different names, different faces, same patterns. And every time, I will have to remember:
It is not about me.
It is not my fault.
And it is not my job to teach them how to behave.
So I take the lesson. I carry the wisdom. I build better boundaries. I move forward.
Because, truly, we are all safe and free.
Let them be.
And let yourself be free.
Love,
Noemi
P.S. And if you’re curious about this quote by Louise Hay, I once found it when I most needed it, hidden in this book. Here.
