“Daring to set boundaries is about having the courage to love ourselves even when we risk disappointing others.” ~Brene Brown

When I was in the seventh grade, I moved to a new city and started a new school. I was terrified and filled with anxiety about navigating this new world without a single friend. What if no one liked me?

My first week there, I walked through the cafeteria some when two girls called me over to their table. I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking maybe I would be able to make a friend. I went over smiling my best smile, then they said they wanted to ask me a question.

One of them smiled sweetly and said, “We were just wondering why you walk around with your nose up in the air. Do you think you’re better than everybody else or something?” They sneered and laughed and proceeded to say a few more hateful things to me that I don’t exactly remember.

I was crushed. I had never been bullied before, and I had no idea how to deal with this kind of situation. I would like to say that I gathered my strength, stood up to these mean girls, and told them where they could shove it. But I didn’t.

I felt my face flush with heat and the sting of rejection in my chest. And then I told them I was sorry. For what, I’m not exactly sure, but I sputtered out some awkward apology and waited for them to realize that they had made some sort of mistake, and that I was clearly worth their approval after all. But they just looked at me silently like I had three heads.

This day stands out to me because I remember distinctly feeling that in order to be accepted, I needed to be different. I needed to be careful and do whatever it took to avoid people disliking me. I was well on my way to becoming a chronic people pleaser.

Fast-forward twenty-five years, and I still have a habit of unconsciously putting a great deal of my energy into people pleasing. I keep the boat steady, navigating carefully so as to not make too many waves.

From an early age, I was a hater of conflict and uncomfortable situations, an avoider of angry words.

It’s in my bones to be a peacekeeper. I have always been soft-spoken and decided early that my voice just wasn’t loud enough to compete with all the yelling. I found it easier to smooth things over, and I learned to how to artfully sugarcoat the rough edges of life.

I could easily meld myself into the background of things, to be an observer, a non-participant. This is my comfort zone. I have been the one who doesn’t make waves, who doesn’t cause trouble, who doesn’t make anyone upset.

It’s automatic for me to look for the bright side of things, for the cheer in dark situations. It’s a natural instinct to try to smooth and ease the discomfort of others I am around. And if I can’t smooth it out, I tend to retreat because the thought of jumping into the middle of a conflict is exhausting. Basically, I am the anti-anger.

This way of being has served me well in so many situations. It has made me objective. It has kept me calm and steady. I am acutely perceptive of the moods of people around me in pretty much any situation. I easily absorb the underlying intricacies of interactions. A true introvert in nature, I find more meaning in silence than in a million spoken words.

I am grateful for this part of me, which I tend to keep largely private. I am also very aware that most people see me as a really “nice” person. But as more and more people have mentioned how nice I am, I have also realized that for me, this is not a compliment.

I think about it like this: Is “nice” the legacy I want to leave on this world? Is that what I want to be remembered by someday? That I was “nice”? No. I want more than that.  

Nice is sweet and accommodating and agreeable. Nice is polite. But nice does not describe what we believe in. It does not indicate where our boundaries are.

When I think of people I admire the most, some genuinely fantastic human beings come to mind. But in all honesty, most of them are not particularly “nice” people. They have character and integrity. They are compassionate and kind. But that is not the same thing as nice. Compassion and kindness requires courage and boundaries. Niceness does not.

For example, there is a person I work with that I have the utmost admiration for. She is a strong and confident woman. She exudes a sense of grace and integrity. She is straightforward and authentic and very clear about her boundaries. She stands firmly in her own truth. She seems to have very little concern about receiving approval or validation from others.

She knows who she is and appears completely at ease in her own skin. I am in awe how she seems to move through this world in a way that not only commands respect, but also exudes great compassion and kindness. Now that is what I want to be.

I have learned that to be sincerely kind and compassionate, we must create strong and clear boundaries for ourselves. Otherwise, being “nice” will ultimately lead to resentment, which is the opposite of compassion. 

How do we go about shifting this way of being, when we are so programmed to please? It’s a gradual process that sometimes means unlearning the rules we have internalized about being polite. It’s about relaxing into your own authenticity and allowing the world to feel the full weight of you.

Brené Brown, a personal hero of mine, defines authenticity as “the daily practice of letting go of who we think we are supposed to be and embracing who we are.” We must find ways to release our chronic need to please, and the courage to reveal our real and vulnerable selves.

The first step to reclaiming our own authenticity is to recognize when we are losing sight of it. Are you feeling any resentment? For me, resentment is a red flag. It usually means that I have not been clear about my boundaries in some way. It’s my first sign that I have been using too much of my energy worrying about disappointing others.

Next, take a look at exactly where that resentment is coming from. What boundary have you been unclear about? Is something bothering you about a situation that you have not fully expressed to someone? Have you held your own feelings back in some way, in order to avoid hurting another’s?

We must get clear with ourselves about what’s okay and what is not okay so that we can be clear in communicating that to others. Only we can decide exactly what we are willing to accept in our lives. We can use this formula to create a dialogue with ourselves. Write it out. Be specific. 

1. I feel resentful because….

2. This means I haven’t been clear about something bothering me. Here is the boundary that has been blurred….

3. Here’s what’s okay with me….

4. Here’s what is not okay with me….

Once I work through this process, I usually find that my feelings of resentment and anger are not actually directed at another person. They are toward myself. I feel disappointment in myself for not staying loyal to my own values, for not giving myself the respect that I so freely give out to others.

I have learned that self-respect, boundaries, and compassion all go hand in hand. It is difficult to have one without another. Avoiding or running from tough situations does not set clear boundaries. Although it is often the more comfortable path, it also tends to breed more resentment and shame.

Being authentic takes courage. Learning to wade through the discomfort of setting boundaries takes risk. We risk disapproval. We risk being disliked. But I think the risk is worth it if we ultimately find respect for ourselves.

So join me in striving to reclaim our authenticity. Let’s be brave and real and imperfect. Let’s be compassionate and kind and honest. Because really, aren’t these so much better than the constraints of being “nice”?