The Gun, the Girl, and the Lie: Learning Boundaries the Hard Way

It was hard for me to set boundaries. Not because I didn’t know something was wrong. Not because I didn’t feel the fire rise when someone crossed a line. But because I had been trained not to act on it.

I was raised to take the high road, be agreeable, not make waves, and be a “young lady.” And anger? That was never part of the package. Anger wasn’t feminine. Anger wasn’t safe. Anger wasn’t allowed, especially if it pointed toward someone who wanted to take from me.

So instead of drawing a line, I learned how to fawn, freeze, smile through discomfort, and look for the safest way out of a situation I never agreed to be in.

Sometimes I think about those movie scenes...the ones where there’s a violent fight at the end, and suddenly a gun slides across the floor. The woman reaches for it. Her hands are shaking. She picks it up but can’t steady it. She can’t pull the trigger. And the moment slips away. She’s overpowered.

She was never taught to protect herself. Not because she's weak. That’s not a character flaw; that’s training. And we’ve all been through it.

But I’m unlearning it now. I’m learning that boundaries don’t make me mean. They make me honest. They make me whole. They bring me back to the part of me that always knew what wasn’t okay, even if I couldn’t act on it yet.

A Slice of Humble Pie

You weren’t born without boundaries. You were trained to disown them.

Reflection

What situations from your past still haunt you because you couldn’t say “stop” or “get away”? What would it look like to forgive the version of you who didn’t know how to pull the trigger?

Affirmation

My anger is not dangerous. It’s directional. I am allowed to name what hurt.

If this resonates, take a moment with it. What boundary is asking to be named in your life right now? Share your reflection in the comments, or carry it quietly with you. Both are valid ways of beginning.