The Cost of Boundary Avoidance

There’s a default people reach for when they don’t want to do the hard thing. They don’t want to be strict, they want to be “flexible.”

It sounds reasonable. Relational. Mature.

But most of the time, it’s felt right before someone talks themselves out of doing what they already know needs to be done.

This story unfolded around Christmas.

An immediate family had planned to spend the holiday together—parents, adult children, spouses, grandchildren. Nothing fancy. Just time. Traditions. Familiar rhythms. The kind of gathering where people relax because they know how the room works.

Without discussion, an extended family group was added. Everyone else involved was immediate family. This group wasn’t. And it wasn’t a neutral addition. They were known for frequent conflict, aggressive communication, and unresolved tension that followed them into every shared room. The dynamic immediately changed. What had been planned as festive and restorative now felt precarious.

The boundary was obvious.

And it was incredibly uncomfortable.

Holding it meant awkward conversations. Hurt feelings. Anger. The real possibility that the holiday might fall apart altogether.

Avoiding it would have been easier.

Instead, the planners asked for the additional invitation to be retracted.

But avoiding it would have meant something else too: teaching everyone involved that access didn’t require agreement, and that the people who planned and carried the weight of the gathering didn’t get a voice.

So the boundary was set.

The extended invitation was retracted. People were furious. Offended. Deeply embarrassed. For a while, it felt like the whole Christmas might not happen.

And then—after the dust settled—it did.

The holiday was calm. Connected. Joyful. Exactly what it had been intended to be. And something important happened afterward: from that point on, no one added people to shared family plans without checking first.

The trip went forward. It was peaceful. Enjoyable. Restorative. And something subtle but lasting shifted: from that point on, no one added people into shared plans without checking first. Expectations became clear. Respect increased. Communication improved.

That boundary was costly in the moment—and stabilizing for years afterward.

Now contrast that with a different pattern.

Over the years, many people have watched single adults—especially women—struggle to set boundaries with well-meaning parents. One story stands in for many.

She was warm and beautiful, talented, deeply kind. Admirers and opportunities for companionship showed up again and again. Friends introduced her to thoughtful, capable men. Interest was mutual.

But every potential relationship was filtered through her parents’ approval. Their concerns—framed as protection—became gatekeeping. Hesitation became control. Conversations ended before they had a chance to begin.

Years went by.

By the time she finally chose differently, she was well into midlife. The landscape had changed. Not because she had failed—but because time does not pause while we avoid boundaries.

Opportunities shrink when decisions are deferred too long. Not as punishment—but as consequence.

Boundary avoidance doesn’t preserve peace. It transfers agency to the loudest voice, the most anxious influence, or the strongest pressure in the room.

Direction requires boundaries. Not because rigidity is virtuous—but because becoming something always costs something.

So if you’re hesitating today—telling yourself you’re just being kind, flexible, or patient—it may be worth asking:

What direction is being chosen for you while you wait?

🎧 Listen to the podcast: https://open.spotify.com/episode/0B4ElCgPegMbOUC6V4sD1I?si=npU2pCb_Sw2ym_YyvjrCEw