Boundary Repair: This is also ME

Whenever I hear the term boundary work, the first thing that comes to my mind is learning about setting clear and healthy boundaries with others, distinguishing ‘this is me (mine), and this is you (yours)’, learning to recognize when to say ‘no’ to others and ‘yes’ to myself, and not sacrificing myself for the sake of pleasing others. But for me, the work has also been about learning to trust my body’s signals and using my voice to exercise those boundaries without fearing repercussions. This includes learning to feel safe enough to ask for what I need. And that has been an important piece in my healing journey.

At the SE Beginning II training I’ve attended 3 weeks ago, learning to recognize the effects of trauma created by boundary rupture, and the repair work with and for ourselves (and clients) were some of the key topics covered. My immediate thought went to the traumatic boundary rupture I’ve experienced when I gave birth to my daughter 11 years ago, which subsequently led to the development of psoriasis on my neck. But I figured that’s probably not something I could work on in the training setting, and yet it did in the most surprising way.

The traumatic childbirth…

As a first time mom in my late 30s (what I’ve been repeatedly reminded as the end of my childbearing days), I was constantly worrying about the health and safety of my baby. This only got worse as I got closer to the end of my pregnancy. It didn’t help that I kept hearing horror stories from people around me about how they had to go through emergency surgeries because their baby was in breech or other not-so-ideal birth position, had the umbilical cord wrapped around their neck and so on. As I was counting down to my expected due date, I became even more anxious, paying attention to every single move my baby was making (or not making). During a routine follow-up, I briefly mentioned my concerns and the ob-gyn decided to put me through a fetal heart monitoring, just in case. For whatever reason, unknown to any of us ‘til this day, for a split second the monitor registered a drop in my baby’s heartrate. Because of that ‘blip’ the ob-gyn recommended for us to begin inducing labor to avoid possible complications. Even though my gut instinct told me to wait, that my daughter was not ready, I ignored it out of fear. I couldn’t bring myself to imagine what would happen if I made the wrong choice by trusting my instinct (this same lesson came back 6 years later and landed me in surgery the second time for a broken ankle).

I had a whole birth plan laid out – water birth in the hospital with an experienced ob-gyn, using all the tools we’ve learned in the prenatal classes together with my husband for a smooth, natural delivery, the music, the clothes, the dos and don’ts, and whatever else I could prepare ahead of time. But that one choice to trust someone else to make the right decision for me instead of my body’s instinct resulted in us being in the hospital for a whole week as I put my body through immense discomfort from the birth induction process, from being pried and poked at every other hour, and reminded that I was ‘not progressing’ (as if my body was failing to perform in the way it was supposed to). By the end of the week, I was utterly exhausted in every sense. I didn’t have any strength left in me to even consider a natural birth. And during that time, I noticed the number of pregnant women that came in and left to deliver their babies. More than I can count. I can’t remember what went through my mind, but I can only imagine how broken my spirit was then. So by the time the ob-gyn broke my water and told me that I will have to go for an emergency C-section if nothing changes, I didn’t have anything left in me to even object. After the surgery, I was left in the recovery room, staring at the hospital ceiling while my body shook uncontrollably from the aftereffects of the epidural. I wish I knew that it was my body going through the natural process of discharging. I wish someone was holding my hand so I won’t be afraid being left all alone while everyone attended to my baby. But that was not my story.

The painful ordeal continued on with another week of hospital stay, as we battle with my daughter’s jaundice and tongue-tie issue, and my failure to breastfeed. I remember every day a different nurse or breastfeeding specialist will come and squeeze my breasts from all angles to help me ‘produce’ and ‘perform’ my duty as a new mom. I remember my body feeling numb, like it didn’t belong to me anymore. Like I was just watching them figuring out how to ‘fix’ this milk producing machine that isn’t working. And I remember feeling like an utter failure of a mom and a woman then. But there wasn’t any time or space for that, because I have a baby to take care of. I remember staying up late one night trying to breastfeed and being in so much pain that I wish I could just put my daughter back inside my womb because I just couldn’t do it.

As I’m writing this, I could still feel the weight of the guilt and shame (that I’m allowing the space to be present). From seeing my body as failing to do what I’m designed to as a woman, as a mother. And the anger towards myself for ignoring my gut instinct, for not speaking up for myself, and putting my body and my daughter through all that. Soon after I developed severe skin rash on the back of my neck. At first I thought it was just temporary from allergic reaction, but I later found out that it was actually psoriasis, a form of chronic inflammatory skin condition that is considered an autoimmune disease. And then came the shame with how my skin looked, finding ways to hide it so no one could see, and the constant fear of doing or eating anything that may cause flare-ups. I also started experiencing symptoms of postpartum depression. None of which I attended to then, because I was devoting myself to becoming a good mother.

But the rupture was already there…

While we often focus on learning to create healthy boundaries in our relationships with others, there is also another form of boundary that we don’t pay as much attention to – our body as its own boundary that holds us. From the moment we’re born, our body learns the concept of ‘what is me and NOT me’ through our skin, as a first form of physical boundary. Our skin separates us from the rest of the world and allows us to differentiate what exists within us from what’s outside. When we understand this, we will also realize that our body’s cues amongst others such as heat, thirst, hunger, tiredness, skin reactions or gut feelings are all ways our body is trying to communicate its boundaries to us. When we continuously ignore these signals, distrust our body’s innate wisdom, and push our body to perform, we fail to honor our body’s boundaries.

Like many others, I’ve spent years overriding my body’s cues and symptoms because of how I was conditioned to live since I was a child. Over time, this became the norm as I continue to push beyond my body’s boundaries, whether to comply at home, perform at school or work, through sports or physical activities, or with daily living tasks of caring for the family. And when my body’s boundaries were pushed beyond its limit during the traumatic childbirth, it finally decided to attack itself at a cellular level through my skin. In his book ‘When The Body Says No’, Dr. Gabor Mate wrote about how chronic illnesses such as autoimmunity (like psoriasis) is a result of our immune system having difficulty distinguishing between self and non-self causing it to launch an attack on itself - because we have ruptured that boundary with our own body.

Truth is the traumatic birth was not the first time my skin showed me signs that I’ve crossed the boundary. When I was a teenager, I remember developing a small rash on the back of my neck. But I never thought much about it because it went away eventually. Later while I was working long hours to meet deadlines at my stressful corporate job, I developed rashes on my face for months, which I did nothing about except apply steroid cream prescribed by a skin doctor.

The traumatic childbirth was the last straw for my body.

Repairing with my body…

Over the last 5 years since I’ve started my healing journey, I have been consciously learning ways to heal (or at least manage) my psoriasis, through diet changes, managing my stress level, reducing toxin exposure in my life, and eventually working on emotional issues through nervous system work. I thought I was doing great and had it all under control. Until late August when it came back…worse than ever. And I felt miserable, covered in itchy, burning rashes and dry flaky skin. I felt like a failure, like a fraud. I was supposed to have this figured out. I thought I was much more regulated now and have greater capacity for stress. How can I guide others to heal if I can’t heal myself? Again, the guilt and shame all came rolling in. I felt helpless. I’ve done everything I know how and yet I find myself right back where I started…or maybe even few steps back. I wasn’t sure what else I could do besides relying on homeopathic remedies to soothe the discomfort. But universe has a way of showing you exactly what you need, when you need it, if you pay attention.

A few weeks later, during the triad exercise in our SE training, we had to practice expressing boundaries using our bodies (through hand gesture) and not just with our words. At first, the exercise seemed so simple and maybe even a little silly in my mind. But I couldn’t be more wrong. I didn’t even get to complete it before my body showed me what I haven’t been opened to look at until then. As I uttered “this is also me” while gently holding my body, I realized what I needed was to reconnect with parts of my body that I have abandoned, because of fear, shame and guilt. With that simple yet profound exercise, I came to learn (later on when I’ve had time to integrate) that the boundary work I needed to do was first with myself. I needed to repair the rupture with my own body’s boundaries. While it may not have been what the exercise was intended for, following my body’s cues led me to this beautiful moment of repair. That night while lying in bed, instead of trying not to scratch the itch on my neck, I offered my skin supportive touch by holding it in my hands. I didn’t try to make it go away or do anything that I normally would. As I did that, my body relaxed and I fell asleep.

One day during a conversation with a client, the topic of skin issue came up and offered an idea I have not explored – traditional Chinese medicine. Through consultation with an integrative TCM doctor, I found out that my body is burdened with inflammation, stress and deficiencies in several areas. This was again another reminder of how I have crossed my body’s boundary by offering it too little for too long. For a few months now my instinct has been trying to tell me that something was off, and my body was sending me subtle signals, which I pushed aside until the flare-up. I knew I wasn’t paying enough attention to how I was structuring my day, juggling responsibilities between work and home, how I was making time to support others but not enough for myself, and not prioritizing what my body really needed. I have also been so focused on my nervous system and emotional health that I’ve put my physical health on the sideline, which was what had helped me manage my psoriasis. The latest flare-up was a loud warning sign.

The lesson I am learning…

A hosts of questions came to mind as I was trying to figure out what was causing the flare-up. ‘Why am I still feeling stressed? I am a lot more grounded and regulated now that ever. I am no longer busy doing and on-the-go all day long’. But what I missed was the question of ‘Have I been giving myself enough time, space and permission to fully rest?’ The hard truth is NO. There is still a desire, albeit to a lesser degree than before, to perform in some ways. Whether with my duties at home or in supporting others through my practice. It may be subtle, but anxiety is still running in the background, now in the form of processing information all day and all night long, to learn, to grow, and be better at what I do. In fact, the other day, in a game of ‘How well do you know your family?’ the question of ‘What do I do for fun?’ came up and my daughter’s immediate response was ‘You read’ (books about trauma healing/nervous system). While there is nothing wrong with that, it reminded me that even for ‘fun’ activities, I am trying to process information and learning. There was never really time carved out to do nothing, fully resting, or purely just having fun - what my husband refers to as ‘dumb-down’ activities (confession: few months ago I binged watch earlier seasons of Grey’s Anatomy and felt guilty afterwards).

But as the famous quote says ‘You can’t shame yourself into change. But only love yourself into evolution.’ I am grateful that my body is bringing back this lesson that I have yet to master. And to help me learn this are the clients coming to me with the same challenges and needing to repair their own boundaries, to learn to build trust in their body’s wisdom and reclaim their sense of self and safety from within. And I know that I can only truly support them if I am also willing to honestly do this work myself.

Writing this piece is one way I’m honoring my body and what we’ve gone through together, and how we are repairing the rupture. I had a good cry. It was the healing that I needed. And it’s also perfect timing that I found the book Biology of Trauma recently published by Dr Aimie Apigian (ha, another one of the many books I read for ‘fun’) who again reinforced my beliefs that sustainable healing truly needs to be approached from a whole-person perspective, and that includes the mind-body-biology. As my body has clearly shown me, I can’t just focus on one and neglect the other.

So, what’s my lesson for boundary work? Start by honoring our own body’s boundaries. By building awareness of our body’s way of communicating its wisdom and boundaries AND trusting its messages. When we are able to do that with ourself, then we will know how to create healthy relational boundaries with others, honor our ‘YESes’ and ask for what we need and want.