Is leaky boundaries like leaky gut sydrome where toxins leak in and out?
I have to face facts that I have boundaries like a tea bag (although I like to think I’m oh so together). I say this because of what happened a few days ago when I went to a small event about writing. (I want to start writing in earnest, not in hiding like I’m doing right now that no one knows about). Not knowing anyone there meant making dull and uninteresting conversation with people I don’t know – something that does not sit well with me and my social awkwardness (so I float around pretending to be interested in some of the exhibitors and making dull convseration with them as though I’m interested). Funny I can stand infront of a room of people and deliver no problem but small talk with strangers – no can do. During the lunch break I made my escape to be on my own in the sunshine outside. Three other women must have had similiar thoughts and joined me, as we got into the boring, uninteresting what do you do ‘skating-around-the-fringes-of-life’ conversation that I despise which has less depth than a puddle of rain. Anyway, as we got talking I noticed that I dive in head first afflicted with some kind of ‘honesty-tourettes’, telling these women I don’t know or barely know way too much too soon about my life: how I burst into tears in front of a group of women I don’t know last time I shared anything about myself which was not that long ago actually (cry baby post), how I allowed a narc to destroy my life, that I’m having IFS therapy and that I blog in secret about my healing. It’s like a nervous twitch; I just blurt it out. But deep down I know it’s WAY TOO fucking much to spill on an intro. I don’t know what goes through my head. Perhaps I think that the more emotionally ‘naked’ I am that maybe it’s somehow makes me more accessible as a person, more genuine, “she’s got more depth than the Atlantic” and people want to connect and get to know me more. But maybe in reality it’s a repellent and I just come across like some sort of unhinged fruit-loop. I’m wondering whether this type of emotionally-naked-honesty- tourettes is a “please like me” plea? I think it speaks much more about my tea-bag boundaries than anything else. I don’t leave much for the imagination. It’s straight into zone 1 when there are 10 zones to go through to get to know the real me.
I allow people too close too quickly. One session I had with a counsellor last year pointed this out to me (she was a one-session wonder). But that one thing she said stuck with me. I don’t leave people in zone 10 and with time, trust and reward, allow them to move through the zones closer to me, like a board game. It’s an impatience that interrupts organic process; I allow people into zone 1 here’s-the-real-raw-me straight away. It’s not the way to get to know people. The layers need to be learned in succession.
But leaky boundaries also = people pleasing.
As much as I like to think that I’m not a people pleaser, in all honesty I think I am and have been for most of my life and I think it very much ties into my perforated boundaries.
I like to see myself as the independent sort who knows what she wants and who knows how to say no, steadfast in her decisions. But deep down that’s not really true and I just kid myself. The truth is my tea bag boundaries leave me seeping out all over the place akin to leaky gut syndrome allowing toxic things to seep in (and often insidiously). That’s how the tracks of trauma show up and I’m sure it happens to a lot of the victims of childhood trauma: you look for connection and love in all the wrong ways and places only to end up swimming in toxity.
You beg for belonging.
But perhaps I don’t belong within myself?
The people-pleasing has shown up all my adult life in getting way too physically close too quickly with men I barely know, thinking that by giving them access to my body that they would love me more. It’s been happening time and time again as far back as I can recall, thinking that sexually close = love and connection. Nope. It just meant men getting what they want, allowing myself to be treated disrespectfully (and going back for a second helping) or me getting into sub-standard relationships with a fucked-up losers and lately, narcissistic arseholes who sniff out vulnerability like a wolf smells fear (there was two in a row from 2020-2023 – a case of limerence which I mistook for love with narc #1 who used me for sex for almost 12 months when he felt like like it and then on the rebound, 6 months later, ended up with another, even more malignant narc for 18 months). With both the narcs I got into a fluttery school-girl like haze about them, getting too close too soon (and I know when I do it because I freak out from within saying to myself “fucking hell you’ve done it again, you can’t go backwards now and try and take it slow it’s all in or nothing!!”) as I give access to my body, a pattern I’ve tried to break. Honestly, I’ve tried to reign myself in so many times and told myself so many times to have more discernment, to be more picky, to hold out and that THIS TIME I’m going to get to know the guy first, only to succumb to advances way too early, often a few weeks into getting to know a guy. This pattern of self-abuse, self-inflicted violation and self-disrespect continued into my late 40’s. It’s felt disconnected and sometimes very wrong on many of these encounters (apart from one or two where there was a genuine mutual attraction and growing connection). I felt nothing strong emotionally for most of them, perhaps a minor attraction. I think this is how surivors of childhood trauma can often fall into abusive relationships. We want belonging, love, connection, safety and closeness and but we end up behaving without a filter or discernement. But I’m not going to shame, blame myself or berate this part of me. I have to understand her. Because it’s the child part who was unwittingly in control all these years.
The effect of the trauma, the living in constant fear and wanting to be protected, the abandonment and abject broken-heartdeness I experienced as a child has meant that I’ve craved for love, close connection, protection and the family that I never had all my life, creating neediness and over-compensation with men and the same in friendships as well. With friendships I often become the needy organiser, proactively getting in touch and arranging catch ups “because I’m a good friend and a nice person to know”. I’ll dive in like this quite often, because if didn’t do anything I’d probably be listening to the silence of my own company for quite some time. I’m an ‘over-helper’ and do way too much, reaching out to those who have issues and like any wounded-healer, try and be the solution-finding fixer, over compensating for validation and the need for approval. But when was the last time someone checked in to see if I was ok?
These are my leaky, perforated boundaries and I know what I need is to cultivate a stronger internal sense of belonging and knowing, a safe home within. The wounded child parts of me are still estranged from one another looking for connection and not fully home feeling nurtured and protected; until they all belong, then I’ll most probaly belong…but how long is that process going to take is the question? There’s an underlying anxiety the older I get knowing that I’m on this healing journey and not knowing when I’ve ‘arrived’. It’s difficult to let go and just allow the process. Non-striving leads to unknown and often empty space. I guess it’s in the difficult, empty places where we grow though. I’m learning…
If baring my soul to you (and the world) has moved or touched a part of you in any way, then your support would be very welcome. To help me on this healing journey, perhaps you’d like to buy me a coffee (although mines a tea) via the link below:
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