A House With No Walls

The following is a continued reflection from an exercise I performed in a post traumatic growth group. This exercise allowed me to process missteps I made in protecting myself; specifically, in the way of setting boundaries. It was a blameless opportunity to reflect on the what happened, what could I have done better, and the how can I improve this in the future. This exercise was presented to me in a season when I was deciding which relationships would survive and thrive beyond divorce. It was the season where I realized I could actually decide who brings value to my newly healing space, my presence, and ultimately, my life.

Describe your house prior to your trauma. What did it look like? What did it feel like?

Describe how your house changed after the trauma.

And last, describe how you want your house to look, in post traumatic growth.*

I sat at my high top table in my barely lived in apartment, over 500 miles from the physical location of the house where my trauma began. I inhaled deeply and on the exhale, my journal pages began to capture a reality I had not tapped into for quite some time. It is both beautiful and haunting what the mind can retain when we give it the space to open.

My house prior to trauma had no walls.

It was a complete and entirely open concept. Not just from the walls we tore down during our first adventure with home renovations; the ceiling unexpectedly caving in and the support beams that would eventually be added. But even after an intense rebuild of new walls and infrastructure, my home remained all-access; as did my soul. The front door, though it locked, always seemed accessible. Often, I did not know who was coming, who was going, or how long they were staying. Changes to my home, big or small, were made without regard for my opinion or consent. There were abrupt moments I thought I was moving from my home, that were quickly overshadowed by plans to stay. And the atmosphere in my home vacillated between extremes. Unnaturally sexual to extreme rejection. Irritability and tension, to eager and promising. Disruptive and busy, to eerily quiet. The lack of walls enabled a range of energy and unhealthy relationships to roam freely.

My house changed dramatically after trauma.

The doors stayed locked. There were many, many walls. Walls from the parking lot to the welcome lobby of my apartment building. Walls between the lobby and the elevators. Walls between the elevators and my-key-fab only apartment. And this was safe. For that season, this was very safe.

I paused after these first two reflections for air and a fresh cup of tea. My shoulders were tense as I reflected back on my boundaryless first few years of marriage. Did I create this, or was it part of the grooming I married? Did I miss crucial developmental steps? Did I leave my inner compass and voice in childhood? Did I never actually find them?

I would need more air…

Dear partner.

Regardless of the how or the why such circumstances have landed in our stories. Regardless of the self-examinations we will inevitably perform with our therapists on our childhood or our adulthood-selves. The prognosis will remain the same. A house without walls will inevitably crumble. Crumble from the weight of carrying others burdens. Crumble from being a person for anyone but yourself. Crumble from taking on emotions, expectations, battles and the experiences of others, and not having any feasible room left for your own.

A house without walls will crumble.

We are not meant to be limitless, boundaryless, humans. When we expose our minds, our souls, our marriages, our most precious relationships to an all-access pass, we end up just that. So where do we begin to heal this? Where do we begin to initiate a life with boundaries, if a life with little to no limits on our emotional capacity or burden-bearing, was once our familiar zone?

We begin at the foundation.

We build our house with walls.

Here are a few considerations for the long term benefits of healthy boundaries:

• Learning to live a life with limits means we will have the ability to say no, and a deep appreciation for our yes. I recently declined an invitation to meet up with a friend after work. My brain was far to overstimulated from a challenging schedule that week, and I knew showing up to this event would likely push my anxiety over the edge and into a potential spiral that could impact how I showed up the next day, or even the remainder of the week. A simple and respectful, no, gave me an immense appreciation for the yes of self care I provided my brain and body instead that evening. Learning to live a life with limits means we prioritize self, which ultimately influences how we show up to the world and our most precious relationships.

• Learning to live a life of value, means we show up to new experiences and relationships with what we will and will not tolerate. What does not align with our values, our moral compass, is no longer given all-access. In fact, we have the ability to grant or deny access entirely. One of the first conversations I had with my now partner, shortly after we began dating, was about sexual integrity and character. Specifically, I asked about his sexual values when it came to pornography and authentic intimacy in a relationship. I went into this conversation on the coattails of new and exciting emotions I had not felt in quite some time. I also went into this conversation firm in my values; specifically, what I valued most for a new, intimate relationship. My wall decided. My boundary permitted or denied access, based on his responses to these questions aligning with my values.

I completed this exercise three months after my divorce. I reflect back on all that I could have chosen for my house in post traumatic growth. I could have granted access to situations and circumstances that were no longer my responsibility. I could have chosen walls of steel that granted absolutely no access; no moments for awe or curiosity.

I inhale deeply and exhale the freedom I have instead created, with my boundaries at the forefront of so much progress.

My house in post traumatic growth has a firm foundation, rooted in God’s truths.

My house in post traumatic growth has walls that echo laughter; a consistent joy and peace.

My house in post traumatic growth holds space for check-ins and deep conversation.

My house in post traumatic growth emulates a mutual respect for the time, love, and energy that moves among these walls.

My house in post traumatic growth, has taught me that I do have the capacity to live emotionally, spiritually, and physically regulated, among the walls I chose to build.

*With credit: Try Softer, by Aundi Kolber, MA LPC and Regeneration Ministries