The person setting boundaries can be heartbroken, too.
In mental health spaces, we frequently discuss how to cope with boundary-setting guilt, and the fact that sometimes, setting boundaries hurts the people that we love.
But we rarely acknowledge the fact that the person setting boundaries can be heartbroken, too.
By heartbroken, I don’t mean “feeling guilty” or “feeling sympathy for others’ pain.” I mean personally heartbroken: mourning the familiarity, wishful hope for change, or idealized future the relationship offered before we surrendered to our need for self-protection.
Self-help culture depicts boundary-setting as a cathartic victory: an empowering rush that comes from refusing to put up with an unlikeable person’s behavior any longer. But truthfully, the majority of boundaries are subtler, far more nuanced, and occur in our relationships with beloved partners, family members, and friends: people from whom the thought of disconnection (no matter how necessary) sparks everything from mild unease to full-blown grief.
We tend to arrive at these boundaries after years of unsuccessfully trying to make the relationship work: overlooking mismatches in needs, downplaying hurtful behaviors, and ignoring signs that this connection, in its current form, negatively impacts our mental health.
Eventually, we’re forced to accept the fact that sometimes, boundaries are necessary to protect our well-being, even when it really hurts.
Read on to learn how to cope with this boundary-setting heartbreak. We’ll unpack how we can simultaneously need a boundary without wanting it; explore how one part of us can want self-protection, while another part wants to maintain connection at any cost; and demystify how to find peace of mind when coping with the grief of severed connection.
I Want to Be Close, But Not Like This
Maybe you recognize that your family member’s hurtful behavior stems from childhood trauma. You know that they’re trying their best; you know they don’t mean to hurt you.
But when you’re with them, you’re hyper-vigilant, on high alert, walking on eggshells. The relationship, in its current form, doesn’t feel safe enough—so you visit them a bit less. Speak to them a bit less. Create enough distance so that you’re not constantly in fight-or-flight as the result of difficult interactions. (I teach you how to set boundaries like this with difficult family members in my on-demand workshop, Using Boundaries to Sustain Complicated Relationships).
What do you want? You want them to treat you calmly and respectfully. You want free-flowing safety, love, and trust. You want to connect with your family member; you want to spend time together doing things you both love.
But you know, from experience, that what you want isn’t possible—nor is it within your control. What you need is a boundary to be okay. This boundary might feel heartbreaking for them, but it’s heartbreaking for you, too.
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Perhaps you love your romantic partner more than you’ve ever loved anyone—but your needs, capacities, or long-term goals simply aren’t aligned. You know these misalignments would eventually sew seeds of resentment between you, so you decide to call it off now.
What do you want? You want a deep, rich connection with the person you love. You want to willpower away your incompatibilities and let your heart rest in the beautiful moments you’ve been creating.
But what you want is only possible if you both change your essential selves for the other—and that’s not happening, nor should it. What you need is a boundary, to give you both a chance to find more compatible love.
No doubt, this boundary will be heartbreaking for them. But it’s heartbreaking for you, too.
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Perhaps you struggle with chronic illness, family obligations, or financial commitments that force you to set boundaries around your time and energy—even though you really want to connect more with your loved ones. But you don’t have the bandwidth, and if you push yourself past your limits, you won’t be physically or emotionally okay.
What do you want? You want to drive in your sister’s car with the windows down and gossip about your family. You want to help your neighbor with her yard sale, be a regular at your friend’s book club, and attend the weddings of your childhood best friends. But if you pursue your wants, you’ll neglect your need to rest and recoup.
This boundary might feel heartbreaking or frustrating for them, but it’s heartbreaking for you, too.
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When we set these boundaries, we’re make the radical choice to accept reality as it is instead of staying suspended in wishful thinking that others—or our own capacity—will suddenly change.
Before, perhaps we spent years wishing, hoping, or begging that others would take our needs seriously and meet us in the middle.
Or perhaps we tried to maintain the relationship by willpower-ing away the incompatibilities; by trying to change aspects of ourselves that, in truth, were immutable: our core needs, limits, or capacity.
Only when it became clear that self-abandonment wasn’t a sustainable solution did we surrender—and our boundaries are that surrender manifest.
When Part of Us Wants Protection, but Another Part Wants Connection
Boundary-setting heartbreak arises from the painful experience of being internally divided: yearning for connection, and yearning for protection from that connection, at the same time.
One part of us truly wants to set boundaries in order to be well. This part understands how mismatches in needs, unhealthy patterns, and chronic misattunements in the relationship have eroded our well-being. More than anything else, this part wants us to be safe and at peace.
But another part of us doesn’t want to set boundaries because the loss of connection feels excruciating, even if the relationship isn’t perfect or healthy. This part is willing to pay for connection at any cost—even if the cost is loss of self.
Whether we’re setting limits around time, space, or privacy; taking distance and reducing the intimacy of a connection; or breaking up, divorcing, or becoming estranged from a loved one; this part of us feels crushing heartbreak at the severance of connection. It grieves the future it had hoped for: the future where connection can go on, and everything magically works out.
In my work with clients, it’s not unusual to spend multiple sessions negotiating the conflicting emotions of these parts.
Our healing lies in making room for all of it: the wistful desire for a healthy closeness—the urgent need for space or distance—the grief of setting a boundary—the relief of setting a boundary—the pride that self-abandonment is no longer a solution we’re willing to entertain—and the heartbreak of loss.
The Boundary-Setter’s Heartbreak is Invisible
Part of what makes the boundary-setter’s heartbreak so devastating is its invisibility. Because we’re the ones inserting space or distance into the connection, our grief goes unacknowledged.
The assumption, by the boundary recipient, is: “You set this boundary, so you must want this. You don’t want to be close to me. You don’t care about my feelings. You’re not hurting at all.”
But I can assure you, after thousands of coaching sessions with aspiring boundary-setters, that the truth usually sounds more like this:
I care for you deeply, and I wish we could stay closely connected, but I don’t feel safe, seen, or respected enough to do so.
If there was a way to be close to you without sacrificing my mental and emotional health, I’d choose it in a heartbeat.
I’m grieving the relationship I wish we could have had, and I’m devastated.
I’m mourning the loss of the future I’d imagined with you. It’s more painful than you could imagine.
I don’t want this space, but I need space this to be okay. I wish it didn’t have to be this way.
It breaks my heart that you’re trying your best, but your best isn’t giving me the safety I need. This connection hasn’t been healthy for me, but I’ll miss our treasured moments so much.
It’s not reasonable to expect the boundary recipient to understand, or soothe us through, our grief—but at the very least, it’s important that we acknowledge the myriad heartbreaks that we may be experiencing simultaneously:
The grief at the loss of a treasured (if idealized) connection:
We’re thinking: “I miss the intimacy of what we shared, even if it wasn’t always good or healthy. I wish I didn’t have to protect myself from you. I mourn the future relationship I’d hoped for with you, too. It hurts.”
The isolation of our unrecognized grief:
We’re thinking: “I know it seems like ‘I wanted this’ because I set the boundary—but I’m grieving the loss of our closeness, too. I didn’t want this… I needed this to be okay. And you don’t understand that. Nobody does.”
The pain of being the villain in the other person’s story:
We’re thinking: “You think I’m horrible, mean, selfish, or cold for setting this boundary. You think I don’t care about you, but that’s not true at all. You don’t understand that I care for you enormously and need to set a boundary to protect my wellbeing. Being misunderstood in this way is crushing.”
Guilt for causing hurt or pain:
We’re thinking: “I feel terrible guilt that I’m the source of your pain. The feeling that I’ve betrayed or abandoned you makes me sick to my stomach.” (Most discourse about boundary-setters’ pain centers here, in guilt—but guilt is only a fraction of the whole story.)
Compassion for the other’s hurt:
We’re thinking: “Regardless of who caused you pain, I wish that you weren’t hurting because I love and care about you. My heart hurts for your hurt. I wish I could take the pain away.”
(For support navigating these growing pains, work with me one-on-one in private coaching.)
Your Heartbreak Needs Attention, Too
A chosen loss of connection is still a loss of connection. When we set boundaries with those we love, the part of us that craves closeness may suffer immensely—and it’s important that we show that part understanding, gentleness, and compassion.
We might assume that the “solution” is to focus on the positive by reminding ourselves of all the reasons for our boundary, celebrating ourselves for our courage, and imagining a happier future ahead.
But in the same way we’d never tell a grieving loved one to “look on the bright side” after the death of a cherished connection, we shouldn’t gloss over our hurt. Rationally reminding ourselves that our boundary was necessary doesn’t override the emotional reality that part of us is grieving and suffering.
Our healing lies in holding the complexity of our many emotions, grief and all. When I’m working with my clients on boundary-setting heartbreak, here are some of the approaches we take. (You can learn more about working with me in private coaching here).
Dialogue with the heartbroken part of you.
When I do parts work with my clients, I encourage them to get in touch with the part of them that is grieving. (Some clients like to conceptualize this part as their Inner Child: a young part of them that needs support and care.)
Can you summon compassion for this part, even though the boundary was “right?” How does this part feel? What moments will this part miss from the pre-boundary days? What does this part wish others understood about its grief? What does this part need from you? Dialoguing with your heartbroken part can help you integrate, instead of ignore, its emotions.
Remember that you’re not alone in this specific pain.
According to self-compassion expert Dr. Kristin Neff, a crucial aspect of self-compassion is recognizing that all people experience pain and suffering.
Normalize your heartbreak by reminding yourself that there are hundreds of aspiring self-advocates feeling this precise form of heartbreak right now. (I promise — I’ve worked with many of them!) They’re in similar shoes: trying their best to better take care of themselves after years of self-neglect, feeling proud of their growth, but hurting at the loss of connection along the way.
Treat yourself the way you’d treat a grieving loved one.
Imagine that a treasured friend or family member was in mourning. How would you speak to them? How would you relax your expectations of them during this difficult time? What small acts of care might you show them to soften the course of their days? Turn your kindness inward and show yourself this same gentleness.
When you’re drowning in heartache, summon rational thinking.
Giving yourself permission to feel the grief of boundary heartbreak is important—but it’s equally important to notice when you’re drowning in grief and toss yourself a life raft. If you’re struggling to self-regulate, it can be helpful to bring some rational thinking into the picture.
This is the moment to summon those positive thoughts of: What are all of the reasons I set this boundary? How is this short-term pain of change better than the long-term pain of never changing? Why should I be proud of myself for this decision? (My on-demand workshop, The Self-Soothing Guide for Courageous Self-Advocacy, teaches you a toolbox of approaches—both emotional and rational—to soothe through the emotional growing pains of boundary-setting heartbreak and guilt.)
Get professional support to process the complexity of your feelings.
It can be difficult to navigate the conflicting emotions, desires, and needs of boundary heartbreak alone. I would love to support you and help bring gentleness, self-compassion, and a sense of clarity to your process. In private coaching, I help recovering people-pleasers master the art of self-advocacy and gently tend to emotional growing pains along the way. Learn more about working with me one-on-one and apply for private coaching here.