Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Trust is a fragile thing, and I learned this through the bruises of past relationships. Boundaries were a concept I didn’t recognize, let alone embrace. Throughout my childhood and young adult life, I hadn’t seen trust protected by boundaries; instead, it felt conditional, something that could vanish the moment I made a mistake.

Growing up in a home where my voice was often drowned out, where the lines between safety and fear blurred, I never learned that I had the right to set limits or protect my own space. As a child, I lived in an environment where mistakes felt unforgivable, with my needs and wants taking a back seat to keeping peace or avoiding conflict. That pattern followed me, undetected, into adulthood.

In my past marriage, trust was twisted into something transactional; I gave and gave, bending to make things work, hoping that in sacrificing my needs, I’d somehow earn security. But trust erodes quickly when there’s no boundary to protect it, and by the time we reached the end, it was shattered, scattered in pieces I could barely recognize. Throughout the entire 14-year relationship with my ex-wife, I unknowingly carried the absence of boundaries with me. I tried to be everything I thought a husband and father should be, pouring every ounce of myself into a relationship that quietly depleted me, while she dictated our lives to the smallest detail, and often using them against me. My needs vanished under layers of compromise and concession. Over time, I realized I wasn’t in love with her, but instead tethered by an obligation to uphold the image of a “good husband.”

Boundaries felt selfish; they seemed like walls I wasn’t allowed to build, even as my own wellbeing deteriorated. I had buried my true self beneath the weight of expectations and silent suffering. It took years to realize how damaging that was and how necessary it is to set limits that honor one’s own dignity. After my divorce, I thought love alone would be enough to hold onto trust, but I soon saw how easily trust can be chipped away without boundaries to frame it. It taught me that when boundaries aren’t respected, trust withers, leaving behind only doubt and regret.

I realize now, boundaries are the silent guardians of trust. They keep it intact, protected from the misunderstandings that come when needs go unspoken. When I set boundaries, I’m not only safeguarding my well-being but also inviting others to respect my trust by respecting my limits. Learning to set boundaries has been, in many ways, a journey in rebuilding trust and that boundaries are an act of self-respect. They aren’t barriers to keep people out, but lines that protect the best of who we are. I came to see that in order to show up as a healthy, present father, as a friend, as a partner, and as the person I strive to be, I need to safeguard my energy and my emotional space.

Learning to set limits; to tell others where I end and they begin; has been a transformative act of reclaiming myself. I understand now that boundaries are not selfish; they are a declaration of self-worth. I had to understand that without boundaries, trust has no foundation; it’s a vulnerable thing that requires support to stand on my own and they’re about creating a safe space where trust can grow slowly, steadily, and with integrity.

I have come to learn that when I honor my boundaries, I’m rebuilding the foundation of trust in myself. This trust is precious; it’s the belief that I won’t betray my own needs for someone else’s comfort. They’re a promise to myself that I will no longer give away pieces of my peace. And when others respect my boundaries, they earn something rare and valuable; a trust that, this time, feels solid enough to last.

Through my experience, I’ve come to carry three powerful truths about boundaries. First, they are non-negotiable. For too long, I made my needs flexible, prioritizing others over myself. Now, boundaries allow me to define who I am, uncompromisingly. Second, they empower us to say no without guilt or apology. Each ‘no’ is a way of saying ‘yes’ to the life and relationships I deserve. And finally, boundaries are how we honor ourselves and teach others to do the same. They are my compass, helping me navigate life with dignity, pride, and authenticity.

This journey hasn’t been easy. Breaking the patterns of a lifetime can feel like tearing down and rebuilding a house from its foundations. But I’ve learned that setting boundaries isn’t about anger or resentment; it’s about clarity, growth, and love; for myself, for my daughter, and for the relationships I wish to nurture moving forward.



Once there was a quiet garden,
filled with colors bright and wild.
It grew best when lines were honored;
a space for each root, each petal, each stem.

For a time, no borders stood,
and flowers tangled, starved for sun,
their colors dulled, their strength pulled thin,
as vines of one drained life from within.

So a gardener placed small stones around,
not walls, but paths for each to grow;
a space to bloom, freely and alone,
to lift their heads, to stretch and know.

In tending gently to each line,
the garden thrived, each flower freed,
and side by side, they grew in kind,
a beauty held by roots, not need.

Boundaries gave them life that way,
together, yet strong, every day.

— Sincerely, Boris
In the pursuit of lasting, secure relationships, I find myself reflecting on how anxiety has left its subtle, often unspoken imprints across my life. Growing up with a distant relationship with my parents, I internalized early on a sense of unfulfilled attachment, the absence of closeness planting seeds of doubt and a yearning for validation. In the silence of those unmet needs, I began searching for the assurances I never received, hoping that connection could anchor me to something steady.

This desire for security led me into a marriage that, for fourteen years, became a mirror of my deepest fears rather than a refuge. Each day felt like an exercise in survival; measuring my worth against another’s indifference, trying to reconcile my self-worth and patience with a relationship that drained rather than sustained. My anxieties flourished in that space; I was reaching for connection but grasping at emptiness. The experience taught me how profoundly loneliness can exist within a partnership and how silence can erode one’s sense of self over time.

Today, as a single father to my daughter, I am determined to write a different story, to create a life for her filled with the presence and closeness I once craved. I want to show her that love can be secure and kind, that her worth is intrinsic and unshakeable. I am learning, slowly, to offer myself the same assurance I give to her; a steady reminder that my value is not dependent on another’s approval or affection.

In this journey, I am coming to see that true security begins with me, with the quiet work of nurturing my resilience. Rather than allowing my fears to dictate my relationships, I am choosing to embrace them as part of my story, without letting them define its future. Each relationship now becomes an invitation to bring forward a more authentic, calm self. Through this process, I am becoming not only a more present father but a person capable of opening up without seeking guarantees. And in that vulnerability, I find a strength I never knew was mine.



I am the shore, the quiet sand,
not bound to waves that break,
but rooted deep, calm, and sure,
in every breath I take.

— Sincerely, Boris
Luca Scarrott Oct 25
[1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 0 and repeat]

We
fit toge
ther seamlessly
like the numbers on
a digital alarm clock,
moving without hesi
tation, from one figure to
the next, a movement of time transi
tioning,  unsettling, unnotica

bly building on and constructing ourselves
within the construction of time
itself. We are the only
static constant, the on
ly reliable source:
time keeps moving
forward, and
so will
we —
Last night, when I couldn't fall asleep, I was staring at the numbers on my alarm clock, and I saw the numbers change. The numbers go past so frequently but it's only when we're paying attention that we see them. Yet they move and change whether we are watching them or not. We all do the same.  We are all still moving forward in our own ways beyond the scrutiny of others. This thought of inevitable movement and passing of time provided me with enough of a sense of security to fall asleep. I hope it offers you a similar peace.
My Dear Poet Oct 18
If security can be stolen
what is free can be sold
promises will be broken
secrets will be told
Mrs Timetable Aug 21
I knew you'd change our lives
My life
A mother's life
The young handsome man
Taking care of her
Taking care of us
His family loved us
Giving us more family
New babies
Never realizing the impact
Until now
The happiness
The safety
Being loved by a new dad
To replace one I never knew
I knew you'd change our lives
And you did...

Because you left
Understanding why I am the way I am...trying
neth jones Sep 1
i watched a movie today                                            
        and it made me think a lot about houses
what a threat they are to us                                       
                        how they tighten in on our fears
  and contain ***** hobbies
slyly       
    adjust our moods and personalities                             
                  tuning us to match their wallpaper
  their architecture  angling our minds                         
they make us fierce tail tiger chasing captives
presence extends                                                          
                      and we are for always on a leash of expenses                    
            leased out to the world   only for toil                                   

                 houses shelter us from the elements
so that we may lament                                              
                                          and carry our damage
like mourning  through generations                        
                             and fill them with rewarding
     gummy treats                                                                   

                                            what ugliness is made  
         without the weather to worry it all away
...anyway.. that's how i felt                                               
                             after i watched a movie today
Carlo C Gomez Feb 25
Life is war,
my hands are hypnagogic,
so far from refuge.

The purgatory salesman,
an enemy with antlers,
speaks in hostile slogans:
create, destroy, rebuild, repeat.

My friend coma,
blunted and paranoid,
has lost her vital signs.

But Television says differently,
calls this an elegant demise,
you touch the screen
like you're touching God.

The immortal world
I'm hoping to collide with
is beautiful and closed to resistance.

But there are cracks in everything,
the snowglobe army
granular and brittle,
the constant uncertainty
of your universe
becomes a hiding game.

Take me with you
my halation angel,
to migration salvation.

We made our history
into mythology,
a mass of disconnected facts,
the stars may be dead,
yet, we're here
and we've stopped time.

Tonight I'm breaking
through the gates,
tonight I can see around corners,
suddenly, forever makes sense.
Man Dec 2023
Peace & love
And safety, security.


The art of war,
Is the portrait of justice-
The picture of peace.
The liberty to live free,
As we choose and want to be:
But the duty to defend what we believe.
Mrs Timetable Oct 2023
I crawled into your day dream
Where the soft cool blankets lay
Safely
Fell asleep
And
That
Is
Where
I want
To stay
Safe places
Zywa Jul 2023
You're asleep, I know,

nothing does matter, nothing --


is more important.
Novel "The PowerBook" (2000, Jeanette Winterson), chapter "VIEW"

Collection "Loves Tricks Gains Pains in the 20s and 30s"
Next page