The Art of Setting Boundaries: Why It’s So Hard for Me—and Why I Keep Trying

If you’re anything like me, you know that setting boundaries can feel impossible sometimes. It’s not just about knowing where your limits are; it’s about finding the courage and clarity to voice them. I’m not good at it yet. I wish I could say that I have it all figured out, but the truth is I’m still figuring it out. It’s a work in progress, and most days, it feels like an uphill battle.

One of the biggest challenges I face is my people-pleasing nature. I want everyone to be happy, to keep the peace, and to avoid conflict at all costs. But in trying so hard to make others comfortable, I often end up forgetting about myself—and my own needs. That’s where things get complicated, especially in my relationships.

Lately, I’ve been writing a lot about D/s, and it’s been both cathartic and eye-opening. In the context of D/s, I’m drawn to the idea of the man submitting—yielding control, giving up power willingly. It’s almost like a counterpoint to the constant power struggles I feel in my own life. It’s difficult to admit, but in so many of my personal interactions, I feel like I’m engaged in an endless tug-of-war for control, and it’s exhausting. It’s frustrating. It really sucks.

But writing about D/s has helped me sort through my feelings. It’s helped me step back and understand that I crave a space where boundaries are clear, where there’s an unspoken agreement that everyone’s needs are respected. It reminds me of what I want for my own world—a place where I don’t have to fight for my voice to be heard, where my feelings matter as much as anyone else’s.

Part of why this is so hard for me is because of how deeply ingrained my people-pleasing tendencies are. From a young age, I learned that saying “no” or putting myself first was selfish, that prioritizing my own needs could lead to conflict or rejection. That mindset has stuck with me, and even when I know that it’s important to speak up for myself, I feel the pull of old habits, telling me to keep quiet or go along with what others want.

In D/s, I’ve found a space where boundaries are not just respected but essential. It’s a framework that emphasizes clear communication and consent—something I’m trying to carry over into my everyday life.

My latest book is perhaps the most personal thing I’ve ever written. It’s not just fiction; it’s an exploration of my own desires and the boundaries I wish I could assert more freely. Writing about D/s has helped me confront these deep-seated feelings, shaping my understanding of what it means to express my limits and acknowledge my needs without shame.

Setting boundaries isn’t just a practical matter; it’s an emotional one. It’s about reclaiming my sense of self, telling myself that I matter and that my feelings deserve to be respected. But it’s also about more than just self-protection; it’s about creating a space where I can truly exist without the constant weight of trying to please everyone around me.

I’m learning to take small steps toward expressing myself more clearly. One practice that’s been helpful is identifying what I need in specific situations and voicing it, even if it feels uncomfortable. Whether it’s a simple “no” or explaining how I’m feeling, 

I remind myself that I don’t owe anyone an explanation for choosing to care for myself. It’s not easy, and I still fall back into old patterns, trying to regulate other people's feelings, more often than I’d like.

 But each time I try, I feel a bit more confident in my ability to assert my needs and to set the boundaries that help me feel safe and respected.

I’m not done learning how to set boundaries. I’m not perfect, and I still struggle with my people-pleasing nature every day. But I know that I’m making progress, even if it’s slow and uneven. Each time I take a step, no matter how small, I’m reclaiming a piece of my power.