Aloha,

This week’s newsletter was inspired by a comment from on one of my recent posts.

The real reason behind our uncomfortable feelings; why do they show up… They’re a sign of growth, a way to strengthen and reinforce our boundaries.

Each time we say yes to our boundaries, we’re making them stronger and we are becoming more free. We are more aligned. Our nervous system calmer. We heal a little bit more.

Someone asked me to explain myself again this week.

The same explanation I’ve given multiple times. The one that shouldn’t need repeating. And I felt my whole body heat up. Heart racing. That familiar urgency to respond immediately, to write the long email, to make them understand.

My husband said something that stopped me: “Do the opposite of what you want to do.”

What I wanted to do? Fire back. Defend myself. Prove my point. Get rid of this burning feeling by sending it right back to them.

But here’s what I’m learning: that activated feeling, that urgency to respond - that’s not actually about the other person. That’s old programming running its loop inside me.

Two quotes keep playing in my head. Gabor Maté:

And Steve Chandler:

The person asking for explanations? They’re not making me feel this way. I’m the one making me feel this way. And that realization is both liberating and uncomfortable as hell.

I didn’t learn about boundaries until I was 37.

I spent most of my life not knowing I could have them. I don’t even have a word for “boundary” in my native language. And maybe when people used the closest word to it, it really didn’t click for me. So I chose not to say no because the uncomfortable feeling was too overwhelming. I got anxious. Couldn’t think properly.

The first time I really practiced setting a boundary was with a roommate in NYC. Her selfishness and self-centeredness had worn me down completely. I was exhausted from asking to be respected. Exhausted from trying to make it work. That was the moment I realized - I need boundaries.

But here’s the truth: I’m still not great at this.

For most of my life, I kept everything inside. Dealt with it by myself. Boiled on the inside. Got impulsive when it became too much, then forgave, “moved on.” But like a good Cancer, I kept score internally. I held onto everything even while pretending I’d let it go.

The pattern was always the same: a messy lost inner child that no one taught how to recognize, listen to, feel, or express her feelings. Believing there was something off with her. And the reason? Most people around me probably didn’t know either.

So many friendships suffered because I didn’t know how to deal with my emotions - not just internally or physically, but how to communicate at all. Not communicate better. Just how to communicate, period.

That’s what happens when you don’t have boundaries. You lose yourself trying to manage everyone else’s comfort. You disappear into their needs while your own voice gets smaller and smaller.

Here’s what nobody tells you about boundaries: even when you set them correctly, they can still feel uncomfortable.

That activated feeling when someone tests your boundary? For the longest time, I thought it meant I was doing something wrong. That the discomfort was proof I should go back, apologize, explain myself one more time.

But I’m learning something different now.

That uncomfortable feeling isn’t telling me I’m failing. It’s asking me a question: “Do you want to stick with this new boundary, or do you want to step back?”

It’s my body’s way of reminding me where I came from. All those years of saying yes when I meant no. All those times I prioritized everyone else’s comfort over my own. All those friendships where I disappeared into their needs while my voice got smaller.

The discomfort isn’t a warning sign. It’s an opportunity to recommit. To say yes to myself again.

And here’s what happens each time I choose the boundary anyway: I make it stronger. I become a little more free. A little more aligned. My nervous system settles a bit more. I heal a little bit more.

When that person asked me to explain myself again this week, my whole system wanted to respond. Heart racing, heat rising, that familiar urgency to defend and prove and make them understand. My ego wanted to send that fire right back to them.

That uncomfortable feeling showed up. And it was asking me: “Are you sure? Do you really mean this boundary?”

Doing the opposite of what I wanted to do - that’s where the practice lives. Not nourishing someone else’s fire with my energy. Not letting their demand for explanations pull me back into old patterns. Taking responsibility for what’s happening inside me instead of blaming them for triggering it.

Each time I don’t send that defensive email, don’t over-explain, don’t try to make them see my side - I’m answering that question. I’m saying: Yes. I’m sure. This boundary matters.

Some boundaries feel easier now. The ones I’ve practiced longer, like my work schedule - I believe in order to get what I want, I have to believe in it. So no, I can’t take an appointment at that time. It’s too early for me. I have other things in my life that require my presence.

That boundary feels solid now. The uncomfortable feeling when it’s tested? It’s quieter. Softer. Because I’ve said yes to it so many times that my body knows I mean it.

But new boundaries? They still activate me. The uncomfortable feeling still shows up loud and urgent. And I’ve learned that doesn’t mean I’m doing it wrong. It means I’m doing it at all. It means I’m at the beginning of strengthening something new.

Sometimes I distract myself with music until my nervous system settles. Sometimes I share with someone else - not for approval, but to hear myself say out loud what I decided. Sometimes I sit with it for hours, breathing through it, letting it move through me instead of trying to make it go away.

The goal isn’t to never feel uncomfortable. The goal is to recognize that discomfort as the question it is, and keep choosing myself anyway.

To remember that every day I get an opportunity to say yes to my boundaries. Every single day, that uncomfortable feeling might show up, asking: “Are you sure? Do you still mean this?”

And every time I say yes - yes, I’m sure, yes, I still mean this - I get a little stronger. A little more free. A little more aligned. A little more healed.

The uncomfortable feeling after you set a boundary? It doesn’t mean your boundary is wrong. It means you’re practicing something new. It means your body is adjusting to choosing yourself instead of managing everyone else’s comfort.

What boundaries are you practicing right now? Does that uncomfortable feeling make you wonder if you’re doing it wrong?

Reply and tell me - I read every response.

With gratitude, Nina