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I am wiped out. My heart is singing me lullabies, saying sleep, sweet girl. Lay you down with that heavy burden. Boundaries are heavy. Boundaries are hard. Especially when their necessity is clearly not understood. My heart is singing I should set it all aside, girl. Lilting a siren song and I want to lay it all down, lay it all out, have it all out but the point of boundaries is to allow for compassion and prevent reactivity. This line can mean severance or it can mean acceptance, release,

Boundary setting is the greatest skill I’ve learned. I used to live raw with zagging, undefined edges. I was open, and I am still open, but I existed open in a way that left bits of me trailing in every footpath. Because I was warm, I had hangers on that trampled me. I was a bleeding bruise, always hurt because I never closed up my skin for just me to live in. Empathy only works if we mark a bit off for ourselves. In the last 10 years I’ve learned

Half the battle is drawing the lines the other half is deciding which side to occupy which space not to share which lines to scuff even erase I used to stack my lines until I built up shaking walls surprised when they collapsed I was tumbled over a squiggly burial ground I ceased My finger, that toe, my nose- the part doesn’t matter just that they broke off one at a time until I was so much blood gritty remains I’m trying to say something some grand statement a meaningful,

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