Boundaries as a Form of Prayer
Unscripted Chapters
The irony is that the week I began writing about boundaries, I unintentionally crossed the boundary of someone I cared deeply about. They told me that because of the standard they uphold, they could no longer participate in my life.
The truth is, they had shared the importance of that boundary with me before, but at that moment, I didn’t think of it. I thought only of my own feelings, not theirs. And while part of me feels it was an overreaction to a small mistake, I’ve realized I don’t get to decide that. All I can do is reflect on what it means for me.
We don’t get to write the rules other people set for themselves. Our only choice is whether we want to participate. And in that moment, I forgot that I had chosen to participate.
Boundaries exist not as punishments, but as a way to honor ourselves to remind us where we end and where another begins.
I once read a quote that said:
“Consider how hard it is to change yourself and you'll understand what little chance you have in trying to change others.” — Jacob M. Braude
That line stayed with me. Because isn’t that what boundaries come down to? We can’t control or re-shape another person to match what feels comfortable for us. We can only honor the lines they draw, and decide if we can live within them. Just as we hope others will honor the boundaries we set for ourselves.
I have recently realized how much energy I’ve wasted trying to explain, justify, or even bend myself to fit someone else’s expectations or wishing they would bend for mine. Boundaries remind us that we don’t need to do that work. They free us from the impossible task of changing others and invite us to focus instead on what we can control: how we show up, what we allow, and where we draw the line for ourselves.
In psychology, boundaries are often described as existing on a spectrum from porous to rigid. None of us fit neatly into one category; we carry different boundary styles depending on the situation and the person in front of us.
Porous boundaries might look like saying yes when you mean no, oversharing before trust is built, or taking responsibility for emotions that aren’t yours. They often come from a desire to be loved or accepted, even at the cost of yourself.
Rigid boundaries are the opposite. They can look like building walls so high that no one can get close, avoiding vulnerability, or cutting people off at the first sign of conflict. They usually grow from a need to feel safe, especially after being hurt.
Healthy boundaries live somewhere in between. They allow for openness and connection, while still protecting your sense of self. They sound like: “This doesn’t work for me,” or, “I need some time before I can respond.” They create space for love to exist without self-abandonment.
The truth is, most of us shift along this spectrum. With one person, we might be porous; with another, rigid; and in our best moments, balanced. Boundaries aren’t fixed traits; they're living, breathing choices that evolve as we do.
Once we understand the spectrum of boundaries, the next step is recognizing when we need to develop stronger ones. For me, the clearest sign has been how I feel in someone’s presence. Do I leave feeling drained, confused, or guilty? Or do I feel safe, respected, and seen? Our emotions often whisper the truth long before our minds do, discomfort is a clue that a boundary wants to be named.
This understanding comes after years of abandoning my own boundaries. I come from a childhood where my voice and needs were rarely met, which left me with muddy boundaries. I would justify why someone deserved to stay in my life even after they repeatedly showed me they didn’t respect my limits. And the truth is, they were repeat offenders because I allowed it through my silence, my lack of reaction, or my quickness to forgive.
I’m not saying every crossed boundary means cutting someone off. Most of life is learning that the people we choose will hurt us sometimes. The deeper question is: who are you willing to suffer for?
The difference lies in how people respond when they cross a boundary, whether knowingly or unknowingly. Do they dismiss it, ignore it, or double down? Or do they acknowledge, reflect, and try to show up differently next time? That difference reveals who has space in your life, and who doesn’t. Boundaries, then, become not just rules for yourself, but a filter for who gets to be a willing participant in your story.
Not in a punitive way, but in a clarifying way. They help us sort what belongs to us and what doesn’t, where we end and where another begins. Without them, we risk letting other people’s needs and narratives overwrite our own. With them, we create the conditions for authentic connection, where love doesn’t cost us our self-respect.
And here’s where I find the spiritual aspect. To me, boundaries are not just psychological tools; they’re sacred acts of self-honor. They remind me that I am a creation of God, worthy of protection, care, and peace. To hold a boundary is to say: my life is precious, my spirit has value, and I choose to participate in ways that nurture, not diminish, that truth. In this way, boundaries don’t limit love, they sanctify it, allowing it to exist in its purest form.
For me, boundaries are a form of prayer. Each time I say no to what harms me, I’m saying yes to what God has already placed within me peace, clarity, and love. Each time I hold a line, I am reminding myself that I was not created to be endlessly consumed by others’ needs or expectations.
In this way, boundaries are not walls that keep love out. They are vessels that protect love, so it can flow more freely. They allow us to participate in relationships without self-abandonment, to give without depletion, and to receive without fear. Spiritually, they are the alignment between our human lives and our divine worth.
I no longer see boundaries as selfish. I see them as the scaffolding that allows me to live in integrity with who I truly am. When I honor them, I am not only protecting myself, I am honoring the divine source within me.
The irony is that it took crossing someone else’s boundary for me to finally see how sacred my own are. That moment of loss reminded me that boundaries are not punishments or walls, but living prayers, choices that honor the spirit within us and the spirit within others. They free us not by keeping people out, but by keeping us aligned with love, truth, and God’s design for our lives.
With Love,
Laila🤍