Late Lessons

I hear a lot about how important boundaries are in relationships. Last year I had a conversation with an old friend about some of his unhappiness in his marriage and how he had been implementing boundaries to help with it.

I listened, smiled, empathized. But I couldn’t really understand what he was saying. See, I didn’t grow up hearing words like boundaries or standards.

If anything, I was taught the opposite:

be nice, be patient, be forgiving, be understanding.

Love people the same no matter what they do.

Make room.

Absorb disappointment.

Turn every cheek you own.

Don’t speak up so people will love you.

So for years, I thought that’s what strength looked like.

I thought love meant staying open—even when it hurt me.

It took me until 2022 or 2023 to realize that boundaries were even allowed.

And even then, the idea felt foreign, like a tool everyone else had been using their whole lives and I’d somehow missed the memo.

I used to think boundaries were about telling someone how they should treat me.

Turns out they’re actually about how I treat myself.

They aren’t instructions for other people; they’re commitments to my own well-being.

A boundary is simply the line where I stop abandoning myself.

And standards…

honestly, I didn’t have those either—not the kind that elevate your life.

Back then, if you had asked me what my standards were, I probably would’ve said:

“Be kind to everyone.”

Which is beautiful — but also the perfect setup for tolerating behavior, and people, who didn’t deserve access to me.

Tony Robbins once shouted through my earbuds in a hotel gym around November 2023:

“If you want to change your life, raise your standards!”

And I remember thinking,

“Raise them? I don’t even know what they are.”

What I know now is that boundaries and standards work hand-in-hand, but they’re not the same thing:

Boundaries protect your energy.

Standards determine who gets near it.

Boundaries are the lines you draw.

Standards are the rules you live by—rooted in your values, your worth, and your truth.

And here’s what finally clicked for me:

My standards are born from my values and my worth—

and I no longer bend either to make someone else more comfortable.

That’s the shift.

Not judgment, not superiority—just alignment.

My standards are simply the truth of who I am and what I honor.

They’re the non-negotiables that keep my life pointed in the right direction.

And the wild thing is:

I didn’t fully understand any of this until life backed me into a corner where not choosing myself was no longer an option.

Suddenly the cost of not having boundaries was too high.

Suddenly the absence of standards became painfully clear.

So I learned.

Late, awkwardly, imperfectly—but I learned.

And the education didn’t come from books or seminars.

It came from the moment my spirit whispered,

“No more.”

It came from walking away when everything in my old wiring wanted to stay.

It came from choosing myself even when it broke my heart to do it.

Today, my standards aren’t about being better than anyone.

They’re about honoring who I am—

and refusing to shrink, override my values, or negotiate my worth just to keep a connection alive.

And my boundaries aren’t about controlling other people.

They’re the way I protect my peace, my clarity, and the life I’m building now.

I didn’t grow up with the language for any of this.

But I speak it fluently now—

and it has quietly reshaped every corner of my life,

teaching me that the greatest kindness I can offer the world

begins with refusing to abandon myself.

And if I were to have that same conversation with my friend today,

I’d have a whole lot more to say—

not from theory,

but from the truth I had to learn the hard way:

that choosing yourself is the foundation of every healthy relationship you’ll ever have.