Boundaries and Hills

On old country song:

“Get your boot off my forehead

Please just move along

Well, I hope that by mornin’

This imprint is gone.” 

OK, it’s not an old country song; I made it up.  And I love belting it out with that sultry, southern accent with s’s that sound more like zh’s.  I think it’s really my theme song.  I used to have this image of my post-menopausal self.  I would be honest, bold and take no gruff from anyone.  Darn it!  I’m not there yet.  It’s all about setting boundaries, which has never come easy for me.  From one of my earliest memories to just yesterday, my boundaries are diffuse and permeable.

When I was about three or four years old, I was playing with my older sister and lots of neighborhood kids in the dirt hills near our house.  Everyone but this older girl and I left on a mission.  We were pretending she was my mom.  I wanted to leave but she made me lie face down in the dirt.  She kept yelling at me to stay down.  I felt trapped and didn’t know I could get up and leave.  All I knew was I was scared and unhappy.  I wanted my sister to come back and rescue me from this mean girl who controlled me.  Now, over fifty years later, when I find myself in the dirt, I’m still trying to find my options. 

One of the hard parts in establishing boundaries for me is I see the other side.  My empathy leads me to adjust easily to other people’s sense of humor, their interests, their manner of touching and proximity, and I even find myself reflecting their sitting or standing position.  All of this is unconscious.  But recently, because I’ve become aware of it, I look for it.  It’s so funny to find myself sitting across from someone, comfortably mirroring them then melting into another position with them.  A beautiful, classy friend of mine recently expressed something similar when she said she walks into a room, reads the energy and evaporates because she so completely adjusts.  I know how she feels.  Just yesterday I asked a friend for support and immediately fell into the listening role, my MO.  And no big surprise, I found myself mirroring her posture to a tee.  Changing my posture was optional, but I couldn’t find a way to change my role.  Just like that little girl on the dirt hill, I couldn’t see my options. 

During this last week of school, teachers completed a survey on personal communication styles.  We attended a workshop that probably cost the school thousands of dollars so we could find out our personal communication styles.  Teachers were tickled reading their reports and most felt they were on target.  It was like reading our horoscopes, I thought.  We heard what we wanted to hear.  One paragraph from my report stood out and is exactly what I’ve been facing with new glasses for the past few weeks, or months, or years, I suppose.

Given her empathy for others, Lindsay may seek to look out for their interests. As a result, she may resist making demands upon them or even setting firm deadlines or expectations.  She may fear that to do so might be taking advantage of them or subjecting them to unfair pressure.  Of course this concern about taking advantage of others may make Lindsay more vulnerable to others who may seek to take advantage of her.

Exactly!  Not that others try to take advantage of me.  But if someone offers you their head and says, “Go ahead; give it your best shot,” what else are they going to do?  This is so true of how I deal with my two legged and four legged house mates.  Get your boot off my forehead; I’m cleaning my glasses, rustling up my courage and looking for a way off the dirt hill. 

I know that besides empathy, arrogance keeps me down and dirty.  Where it gets murky is that I want the best for those I love, and I think that by making things easy for loved ones at my expense will prevent pain for them.  I bend over and offer my forehead to my daughter and her dog.  I want them to be happy, so I encourage her to keep her boyfriend’s dog here.  This way Cooper and Godfrey can play together and leave me alone.  But that often means I have another mouth to feed and dog to walk.  You probably are asking yourself why it means I have that responsibility.  Exactly!  “Now, where are those glasses?” she asked, rubbing her forehead.  It’s dirty business up on that dirt hill.  I vacillate between thinking I don’t want to work on this issue so everyone please leave me alone and the other attitude that I love these people and dogs and know how temporary this time is so maybe I can do this.  I know that soon enough my daughter, her boyfriend and their dogs will soon “just move along” and I’ll miss them.  In the mean time, I’m very slowly working on how to stand up, protect my forehead with love and remove my arrogance by giving back the life lessons to their rightful owners. 

I’ve been given an opportunity to practice this challenge even more by opening up my home temporarily to my sister and my mentally handicapped niece.  My sister comes with two dogs that are easier than the other two staying here.  She also comes with a dining room full of craft supplies so she can spend her days making beautiful, original cards.  She helps me take care of the dogs when my daughter’s not around and shares in caring for my dad.  My niece comes with bubbly, sweet energy and is so flexible about where she sleeps, what she eats and what we do.  In that way she helps me by example.  So now I have a home, barely big enough for me, my food, my furniture, my mail, that is filled with five people, four dogs, mail for seven people—don’t ask—and food for everyone.  I’m mostly succeeding, at least with my sister and niece, at establishing my boundaries and enjoying the fruits of our crowded community.  I’m lucky for the practice at establishing boundaries, for the joy of good company, and the gift of seeing these as opportunities rather than limits.

 

My daughter and niece planned to use the fruits of our crowded community by making banana bread today.  But my niece took off on a long walk, my daughter had homework to do, so I, being the sultry country singer, made the banana bread.

Banana Bread

1 3/4 c. unbleached flour

¼ c. wheat bran or oat bran

½ c. rolled oats

1 c. sugar

4 t. baking powder

1 t. salt

4 T. sunflower oil

¾ c. almond milk

1 egg

1 c. chopped walnuts

handful of dark chocolate chips

1 c. mashed banana

Combine dry ingredients, add wet, nuts and chocolate chips and mix well.  Spoon into one large or two small loaf pans, greased and floured.  Bake 55 to 60 minutes at 350 degrees.  Do the toothpick or fork test.

If you make a mistake and undercook it, you still have options.  That’s easy to do and easy to remedy.  You can slice thinly and toast it in a toaster, toaster oven or broiler.  I suggest you extend your boundaries and your bootay with a little cream cheese on top.  The taste and texture will leave you with a delightful imprint you won’t want to wipe away.