“Insist on a constant connection with one person: yourself, who knows precisely where to draw the line on any given day, with any given individual.” — Maya Grant, Home Insemination Kit
“Enough already, Maya.” — Me
Last year, I found myself in a whirlwind of chaos. I had left my kids with a visiting friend while I took a cab to deliver some homemade meals to a new acquaintance whose husband was seriously ill, and she was grappling with three young children at home. I had to catch a ride because I had lent my car to a buddy who needed it to pick up his family from the airport. Plus, I had taken the afternoon off work to entertain our guest—who, by the way, was a relative of my partner. My partner was, of course, at his job that day.
I’m not recounting this to seek praise (though if you want to think of me as a hero, go ahead!). I genuinely wanted to help. But looking back on that hectic day, I see the stress glistening on my forehead, my abysmal time-management skills, a frustrated guest, my career rapidly slipping down the priority list, and a mess of poorly prepared food (not to forget the chili that leaked from its container and spilled all over my leg in the taxi).
Was I glad to assist two families in need? Absolutely. Did I enjoy hosting my family? Sure. But in attempting to juggle all those responsibilities, I drained my own energy while filling everyone else’s cups.
Days like that are not only stressful; they’re often unproductive. I found myself completing tasks poorly or not at all. Seriously, what’s worse than someone who overcommits? An overcommitted flake!
So I decided to step back from my habit of always saying yes. I aimed to decline every bake sale, resume request, ride to the store, and casserole plea. This went against my instincts—wasn’t saying yes the right thing to do?
We’ve all encountered those individuals who never seem to lend a hand when you need help moving, or won’t pick you up after a minor surgical procedure. I even have family members like that. Truth be told, I often considered them rather unkind. I didn’t want to be like that.
However, I reached a point where I couldn’t keep agreeing to everything. I needed to lessen my stress and self-criticism—and others’ irritation with me—by not taking on too much.
How could I start saying no without feeling guilty? First, I had to face a hard truth: a big portion of my “helpful” actions stemmed from a desire to be liked or perceived as good. Wasn’t that just another form of selfishness?
I also began to wonder if those with “clear boundaries” were genuinely happier. They understand their limits, which often align with their priorities and interests. Perhaps it wasn’t that they lacked concern for others’ stresses; maybe it was simply a matter of self-awareness.
Maybe I was being too harsh in my thinking. The ability to decline requests doesn’t automatically make someone unkind. There’s a difference between empathy and action; sometimes, empathy alone must suffice.
So, I attempted a drastic change. Not long after, while I was working on a deadline, a woman I barely knew received heartbreaking news about a family member’s sudden passing right in front of me. She was visibly shaken and wanted to talk. I felt awful for her, but I also felt immense pressure about my work.
My instincts clashed with my resolve. I held her hand for a moment, asked a few obligatory questions, but then, as she took a deep breath, I gently withdrew my hand and returned to my work while she struggled with her grief two feet away.
I don’t take pride in that moment; it was both heartless and inconsiderate. It’s one of those situations I wish I could redo.
Perhaps the truth lies somewhere in between. The notion that collective efforts achieve what individuals cannot is beautiful. Think of a barn-raising event, still practiced in some communities. Nowadays, conveniences like Uber or grocery delivery have replaced the homemade meals that used to arrive at one’s doorstep during tough times.
However, convenience is not a substitute for community. I grew up surrounded by people—family friends and neighbors who supported my single mother. After a family funeral, relatives would come together to prepare a meal, and my aunts and cousins decorated the venue for my wedding. When my uncle passed away, I was moved to tears by the neighbors who delivered food, knowing exactly what we needed without requiring detailed requests.
In the end, I want to be there for others when they truly need it. I’ll find my limits (which, spoiler alert, are likely right before the school’s bake sale for a friend’s kid). I hope that when my own time of need arises, someone will ring my doorbell with a delicious kale salad and know that I’ve done my part to care for others.
To explore more about home insemination and related topics, check out this post on intracervical insemination. For various insights into the process, Make a Mom is a great authority on this subject. Additionally, Resolve provides excellent resources for pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, learning to set healthy boundaries while remaining empathetic is key to maintaining balance in our lives. It helps us nurture our well-being while still being there for others.