I met Paul in graduate school when he was overworked and burned out at Microsoft. Now, years after his retirement, he’s flown to New Jersey for a month to care for his aging parents, who need daily assistance. Thankfully, his sister joins the rotation soon, and he can return to Seattle and reenter his routine.
I missed his call days ago, read the voicemail transcript, and mentally placed “call Paul back” on my floating to-do list — the one without urgency or timeline. Today, after dropping my parents off at the airport, the time appeared. I called.
Our check-in quickly shifted into a shared psychological excavation. He talked about accountability — his current theme of self-work. I didn’t know mine yet. But Paul, being Paul, listened through the specifics of a relationship scenario I mentioned and landed on it before I could: boundaries.
He said something like, “What I’ve heard you say… when you’re feeling shame, heaviness…” and as he continued reflecting my words back to me, it felt like slipping out of stiff professional clothes and into home-for-the-night pajamas. I felt seen. Validated.
And then — guilt.
I had dominated the conversation. I’d taken up the spotlight. Even in my gratitude, a voice crept in: How selfish I am. Later, while digging up stray sand blackberry vines in the grass, the thought thickened, curling around me like smoke filling my lungs until I couldn’t take another breath.
I don’t know what’s real when I’m in that headspace.
But Paul is Paul, a friend who would tell me the truth. If I asked whether I’d been selfish, he’d answer honestly. And I’d believe him.
Zooming out, I know selfishness isn’t binary — guilty or innocent. My post-conversation inventory could have been helpful if I’d stepped in earlier. If I’d blown a referee’s whistle, called a timeout, and named what was happening: This is a no-win situation. You’ve created a courtroom in your head with only one possible verdict — your fault. And we’re done rehearsing this trial.
Boundaries.
Yep. Paul’s right.
Boundaries is my work.
If I could set a boundary with my shame the way I hope to with others, maybe I wouldn’t feel guilty every time someone listens.
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 