The Truth About Boundaries: Why They're About You, Not Controlling Others

For all the conversations swirling about boundaries, there’s often a thread of distortion woven through what we think we know. In the therapy room, I see it time and again: this idea that boundaries are about telling others what they can or can’t do. It’s a common myth, but one that, when clung to, sets us up for frustration, conflict, and ultimately, disappointment.

Let’s untangle this.

A boundary isn’t about controlling someone else’s behavior—it’s about guiding your own. It’s not a rulebook for others but a roadmap for how you’ll protect and tend to your physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being. A boundary says, “This is what I need, and here’s how I’ll honor that need.”

But boundaries can get tangled up with avoidance. “Putting up a boundary” has become a stand-in phrase for cutting people off, as though boundaries are brick walls instead of bridges to clarity and connection. Done well, boundaries don’t sever relationships—they strengthen them. They delineate what matters, making space for vulnerability, intimacy, and respect.

What Boundaries Really Are

Boundaries always begin with you. They are acts of self-respect and responsibility, not tools for controlling others.

Take these examples:

1. “I understand if you want to keep discussing this, but I’ve hit my limit and will need to revisit it another time.” This is a boundary.

2. “If you keep bringing this up, I’m not going to talk to you anymore.” This is not a boundary; it’s an attempt to manage another person’s behavior.

True boundaries communicate needs clearly and offer a way to meet those needs. They aren’t punitive—they’re protective. They don’t demand obedience; they invite understanding.

The Common Missteps

Misunderstandings about boundaries are rampant. Here are some of the most common:

“Boundaries mean telling people what to do.”
This is control, not a boundary. This impulse often stems from a fear of unmet needs—a belief that honesty and vulnerability won’t work, so we resort to tactics we’ve learned to trust.

“Setting boundaries is selfish or unkind.”
Boundaries improve relationships because they’re rooted in self-respect and clear communication. They teach others how to show up for us in ways that are supportive and kind.

“If someone crosses my boundary, they’re disrespecting me.”
Not necessarily. Others, like us, are autonomous beings. Misunderstandings happen, and some people may not agree with or honor your boundary. The focus, then, shifts to how consistently you enforce it.

Boundary or Wall?

There’s a subtle but important difference between boundaries and walls. Boundaries are reactive: you recognize when someone crosses a limit and communicate it clearly. Walls, on the other hand, are proactive attempts to avoid discomfort altogether. They don’t invite dialogue—they shut it down.

If you find yourself using boundary language to sidestep vulnerability or confrontation, consider whether you’re building a wall instead of setting a boundary.

What Holds Us Back?

Setting boundaries can stir up fear. Most often, it falls into three categories:

1. Fear of rejection or backlash (abandonment)
   We’re wired to crave connection, and the thought of upsetting that balance can be terrifying. But boundaries aren’t threats—they’re acts of respect for yourself and invitations for deeper mutual understanding.

2. Guilt over setting limits (people-pleasing)
   For those who’ve been conditioned to prioritize others’ needs, boundaries can feel like acts of betrayal. But boundaries aren’t about taking from others—they’re about ensuring relationships are built on mutual care and respect.

3. Fear of persistent boundary-violators (powerlessness)
   If you’ve experienced a history of violated boundaries, it can feel like they’ll never be honored. But clear, consistent consequences—paired with self-trust—can shift the dynamic and create safety.

Walking the Line

Setting boundaries is a practice in self-respect. It’s a way of telling yourself and others: I value this relationship enough to be honest about what I need.

And here’s the truth: respecting yourself doesn’t take away from anyone else. It’s not a finite resource. It’s an act of abundance, a belief that there’s room enough for everyone’s needs, including your own.

Boundaries, when rooted in clarity and compassion, don’t just protect—they transform. They take the raw material of discomfort and build something new: a space where respect, connection, and care can thrive.■