The Line

The line. I used to be really freaking good at drawing a big fat line in the sand when someone asked me to do something I didn’t want to do. I was good with boundaries. I knew how to say no, and I never felt bad about it.

But was a long time ago now.

Now I’m older, it’s harder, and I’m not sure why. Today’s line. Where do I draw it?

Do I draw it when my kid asks for a new toy and I have to choose between that and putting away money for the next power bill?

Do I draw it when my other kid asks to have a friend over on my one morning where I get to sleep in?

Do I draw it when my dog beseeches me with sad brown eyes to take him for a walk even though I’m exhausted?

Do I draw it when my on-off boyfriend unblocks me and asks to see me, demanding my immediate loyalty after months of silence?

Do I draw it when my ex-husband tells me I’m a shit mum in the McDonald’s car park during changeover because our sons can’t ride their bikes properly yet?

Do I draw it when my wayward nephew asks to come visit even though I’m tired and don’t feel like a visitor?

Do I draw it when my down and out neighbour asks me for a loan to help her pay her rent?

Do I draw it when my students want to talk at the school gate after classes have ended for the day, even though I’m itching to get home to my own children?

Do I draw it when my mate asks me to look after his dog for six weeks when he goes to Thailand even though it barks and pisses the neighbours off?

The problem is the more tired I get, with my family, my job, my life - the harder it is for me to draw that line in the sand. Some days it’s just easier to say yes, even though I’m thinking no.

I used to be really good at drawing the line. The younger me who had the energy to be assertive.

I just don’t know what happened to me. And I don’t like it.

My old man used to say that everyone has their breaking point and that there’s nothing wrong with saying “no”.

Mind you, this was coming from a man whose voicemail message simply said, “not available”.

I’m more like my mum. Put upon, fed up, over it. The lines on my face that make me look older than I am prove it.

People say in jest, “that’s a hard no from me”. And sure, there are plenty of things that fall into that category for me.

Things like cooking every night of the week, answering calls from numbers I don’t know, and stopping in the supermarket when people try to bail me up to chat.

But it’s the things where my heart is involved where I come unstuck. Because I wanna show up for the people I care about and I’ll do it even if it takes it’s toll on me. I’ll continue to say yes. I’ll continue to move that line in the sand further and further back so that it doesn’t get crossed.

And I’ll wait for a season in my life - which may or may not come - where the old me reasserts herself and starts saying no again from time to time.

No to demands for my time, my energy, my money, my goodwill and my kind heart.

Not because I do not care. My problem is that I care too much.

And I’m so very tired.