Boundaries, and Why You Need Them…


I don’t know many people who grew up with solid boundaries that left them feeling safe and secure in adulthood. Maybe it was because I hung around people in survival mode for most of their lives, just trying to get by. (Like attracts like)

Learning more about boundaries didn’t always feel comfortable because I was afraid of failing-- of losing important people in my life. Boundaries felt terrifying. In my family, enmeshment was prized. Putting up even a mediocre boundary was looked at with derision. To compensate, I tried to become smaller and less noticeable or lashed out when the former didn’t work. Constriction was my safe space, but to truly heal, I had to learn new ways to feel safe being seen, and for that to happen, I had to learn how to erect better boundaries.

If you grew up in a space that wasn’t safe —emotionally or otherwise— you may have learned that having needs made you feel like a burden. Or the only way to get your needs met was to meet your caretaker’s needs first. Acting out would most likely lead to punishment. You learned to fawn (people, please) to keep the peace and not make things worse. Fawning is a reflexive response designed to keep you safe, but if you aren’t aware of it, this trauma response could end up running the show in your life and leave you wanting.

If a conversation or situation is getting you nowhere, learn to pause and leave if necessary. All conversations don’t need to be wrapped up immediately. Stating your needs with a simple “Let’s take a break and come back when we’re more settled” can work wonders. Most rational people will be completely fine with this statement. Narcissists will probably fight you, but that’s a discussion for a different day.


To counteract this tendency of staying in an uncomfortable situation longer than you’d like, learning to become more assertive and erect firm boundaries is key to healing. But, like all habits, it takes practice. As Brene Brown said on her podcast “Unlocking Us,” the FFT (first f*cking time) rarely looks like you want it to. It’s messy and uncomfortable, and that can be problematic for perfectionists. However, if you stop doing something after the first time, you’ll never learn mastery and the ability to build sustainable habits that keep you safe long-term.

Furthermore, if you state a boundary and then you don’t honor the boundary, you’re teaching that person, as well as yourself, that your needs ultimately don’t matter. Those uncomfortable situations will only increase over time. If you’d like to dive deeper into boundaries, I highly recommend Netra Tawwab, Ph.D., “Setting Boundaries” (She’s also got an amazing Instagram account). Ultimately, there’s no single script that works in all situations, so that’s why RTT can help you uncover why asserting yourself feels so uncomfortable, along with your inability to say “NO” when necessary. No is a complete sentence that does not require an explanation, but if this seems impossible, RTT can definitely show you the root, cause, or reason why this is happening.

If making yourself smaller wasn’t how you tended to behave, getting angry might have been your habit. Folks usually get angry when boundaries have been violated (and most of the anger is self-directed). Under the anger is usually sadness, grief, or shame. Both my parents would frequently lash out in anger. I think my mother didn’t know any other way to behave. Growing up, she was ignored and needed to fight to be heard. My father thought the anger would make people back off to such an extent they wouldn’t question his motives or conclusions. My parents were terrified of being vulnerable. They associated vulnerability with weakness. But the thing is, boundaries are for the strong-minded and confident among us.

Anthony Perrotta, a gifted astrologer, told me this, and I found it so profound that it fundamentally changed how I see boundaries. I hope it helps you as well.

Anthony likens boundaries to river water. The river water ebbs and flows. It flexes and deepens. It’s never static. The river isn’t hard or rigid—something that isolates us. It’s not a wall that keeps everyone out. That’s a barrier. And barriers are different from boundaries. Rivers are an invitation. It’s okay to tell people they can’t cross the river to come to your shore. Your side of the bank is yours. It’s okay to change how you interact with others… especially if you feel threatened at any point. He told me to let the river waters rise when I needed comfort and incubation and, conversely, let them fall when I was ready for support.

This beautiful metaphor helped me gauge how I wanted to interact with others. This is an easy way to remind me of why boundaries are beneficial and needed.

Ingram’s Path | Subconscious Integration

For most of my life, I carried a quiet belief that if I worked hard, stayed composed, and did everything “right,” my life would eventually open into something meaningful. What I wanted wasn’t fame or perfection—I wanted impact. I wanted to help people feel understood, supported, and able to move through the world with a little more ease than they had before. That was always the dream, even when I didn’t feel anywhere close to it.

What I didn’t see at the time were the patterns running underneath my ambition. Early in my career, I stayed in environments that drained me because I believed I had to. When I spoke up, I wasn’t always supported. When things went wrong, I absorbed the blame. I kept ending up in the same dynamics—different cities, different jobs, different people, but the same emotional blueprint. Without understanding the nervous system or the subconscious, every setback felt personal. I didn’t know I was reenacting something much older.

The turning point wasn’t a sudden transformation. It was a slow unraveling of the belief that I had to survive what was hurting me. Therapy steadied me enough to breathe again. Coaching helped me expand. But learning the subconscious—how the body holds history, how patterns form, how safety is built—changed everything. RTT and trauma-informed work gave me language for what I had lived. They helped me understand why I stayed silent, why I braced, why I froze, and why I kept abandoning myself in moments that mattered.

As the emotional static quieted, I found my voice again—my actual voice, not the one shaped by survival. I became clearer, steadier, and more honest with myself. And I finally had the internal space to build a life that aligned with who I had always wanted to be.

If there’s a single truth I’ve taken from my own story, it’s this: our lives change the moment we stop trying to outthink our patterns and start understanding the history behind them. When the nervous system finally feels safe, clarity isn’t something you chase—it becomes the ground you stand on.

That’s the work I’m here to do. Not to create a new version of you, but to help you return to the one who has been waiting underneath the noise.

📍 Serving Clients Worldwide via Zoom

https://www.ingramspath.com
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The Untethered Soul by Michael A. Singer