framinghome

Its been twelve year since I was sick of my waitressing job and not having any real prospects after spending about ten years in America’s Dairyland that I quit my job, packed a couple bags and headed to Massachusetts.

I stayed for about five months learning my way around, waitressing again and headed back to Wisconsin to figure it all out. Six months later, I sold the majority of my bedroom furniture and extras, packed up the rest of my things and headed back to Framingham where I moved into Steve’s apartment.

I’ve been here ever since. It became our apartment. It was small when I got here, and the bigger our lives got, the smaller it has felt. We have been talking about moving some place bigger for about eight years, maybe ten to be honest. Something always came up, or kept us here. We were going to forgo the bigger apartment and buy a home right as the pandemic was booming, so the uncertainty (and market) had us back burner that. Time continued to pass and we realized how much we’d outgrown this space, this neighborhood and honestly – this city.

We found an apartment months ago that was about to have a total makeover, so we’ve been waiting. Getting the progress pictures and the update texts for what seems like a year. Today we picked up the keys and will be moving our things in the next few days.

Exciting.

And somehow, sad.

I’m fresh out of the shower brushing my hair and looking at all of our boxes. ”We’re actually moving. Feels kinda sad” He says ”Yea it does, in a way” and reminisces about when he moved in and whats different with him, and the neighborhood, and the world.

I frown. ”I grew up here” If you know me, you know I didn’t actually grow up here as a kid, but as a person – an adult, this is where I really grew.

I came here eleven years ago with a couple duffle bags, a preoccupation with my weight, no career path, no prospects and a payday loan I haphazardly took out on the dark web the night before I left. I found myself here, in this apartment. The first place I lived without my parents. 1000 miles from my family. I fell in love in this apartment. I found peace with my body and my bank account and I’m building a career. I celebrated life in this apartment. I learned that my father died and then sobbed my way around this apartment. I’ve struggled and I’ve thrived within these walls.

I’m thrilled to be in this place, living this life this way. I always thought I’d be happy to take off and leave Larrabee behind as a faint memory, and I mostly am but it’s bittersweet as we get to moving day, because this is where I grew up.

fart party

This is never going to be a professional blog (see: title) or solid resource for mental health information; but as a person with mental health, who works in mental health, you can expect some overlap. There has been a lot of talk about physical space and social distancing lately, which has got me thinking about emotional space and the idea of privacy.

I was talking to someone today and we were talking about how someone in her family asked about her kids and some decision she made. She admitted to being sort of taken aback by it, and responded to avoid conflict but something about it irked her. Was she the topic of conversation? We talked about how her family always held what I called ‘fart parties’. Someone in the family would do something, anything – as insignificant as fart and immediately the news spread. Quickly the family would decide on a meet up spot, who would bring what food and drink and desserts and then they would sit and discuss the fart, and of course, the farter (farter need not be present). These people were so enmeshed in each others lives and business that the idea of privacy or omission was foreign. If the farter didn’t want to disclose what they ate prior to the incident, the group would be incredulous. How could you not tell us? We need to know every detail about the fart, we’re family! If the details weren’t disclosed, the family might talk about the fart for weeks separately and then reference it for months or years to come. She acknowledged my point and countered it that all families are like this. I was hesitant to agree, but couldn’t fully disagree because I vividly remember a game of telephone my mother played with her mom and sisters (both blood and in-law) when I confessed that I had gotten my period in the school bathroom in sixth or seventh grade. Not a fart party, but an overshare for sure.

I have always been an open book, but have joked that you need to come to the library. I am willing to share almost anything about my life from crapping my pants while simultaneously barfing on the church altar in 5th grade to the experience of weight loss surgery, moving 1000 miles away from your family and (finally) deciding on a career path at the tail end of your thirties. The information is available but the way it is dispersed is in my control. Usually. That’s not to say there haven’t been times when something is repeated or shared by someone other than me, but I’ve learned to be more selective with my sharing, considering the potential spread. I’m not ashamed of any of my choices or behaviors, though I know who may use them as ammo, or throw a fart party – it’s important to be clear about what in your life is open for discussion, and what isn’t.

My favorite thing to talk about with clients, and in leading groups, is boundaries. It has become a favorite thing to talk about with friends, too. Boundaries are, simply put: the rules that you make for yourself in terms of how you will let other treat you, what access you will allow them to have to you and your life and how you will respond if these rules aren’t followed. Boundaries can be hard to put in place.  A lot of the time it’s because what we have to say or do to set a boundary, is counter to what we have been doing, or been taught to do. Boundaries limit our obligations, in the sense that they keep us from doing and allowing things because “that’s the way it’s always been” or “that’s how we do it”. That we can be a partner, parents, extended family, siblings, friend, neighbor …. anyone who has an attachment to a situation.

It isn’t always family that we need boundaries with, but that seems to be a big one. There may be familial traditions or expectations that, when you distance yourself, make you an outsider or cause a vague bullying. This is typically true when your behavior is counter to the behavior of the group. When people change something, those around them may want to deflect the attention from their own needs, or self examination. A lot of people don’t like the idea, or don’t want the responsibility of self-exploration. The pushback on boundaries is often from people who don’t want to self-examine or don’t like change. That’s not hard and fast; there are plenty of reasons people might push back, but they are not your reasons.

The most important way (I think) to set a boundary is to be direct. As a recovering people-pleaser, I know that this is as harder than it sounds. We want to say yes to people who need something for us, we want to make others happy, we want to avoid conflict, we want to keep things status quo. That’s admirable, but not if it makes you want to die inside. (dramatic) I spent many years saying yes to things out loud and then regretting it and feigning illness, other plans, or following through while being angry about it because I didn’t feel like it was okay to say no. I felt like that might rock the boat or break tradition or disappoint someone else. Know what? It might have … and so what? Why is our sense of obligation often tied to others responses and reactions and not our own? That’s a question for another time, honestly. A few other key ways to approach boundaries are knowing your limits, prioritizing self-care, considering the audience, exploring your feelings and giving yourself permission to alter the boundaries you set when it seems reasonable.

Boundaries can be set for all sorts of life areas; personal space, time and energy,  sexuality, belongings, cultural or ethical beliefs. Boundaries are super personal and cannot be decided for us, they are rules that we make up about our own lives and our own needs. There’s no checklist for setting boundaries – only to not be too rigid, or too loose with them. The more rigid your boundaries are you may miss out on experiences or relationships that are beneficial. the more loose your boundaries are you may not feel capable or able of making decisions for your self, or you may feel pressure to give and do for others without hesitation.

The bottom line is we get one life and we have to live it in the way that works best for us – EVEN if it’s different than what your family wants or what your friends expect. You know how when you are on an airplane and they talk about putting your oxygen mask on first, before helping others? We need to get our head out of the clouds and think this way on the ground, too.