Navigating Relationships: Acceptance and Boundaries

I am not all-powerful. Sometimes, I wish I were. In senior living, I quickly learned my favorite residents—my new friends—could be gone from one week to the next. Nothing I did could keep them here. One summer, I grew close to a woman whose TV blared soap operas. Her calming presence reminded me of my grandmother. I sat in her armchair, talking for hours. Months later, after a fall, she was gone—needing more care. Another friend, a former minister, had passed away. I sobbed. I hoped that praying and loving them, even from afar, would keep them waiting for me. As I continue visiting assisted living facilities, the number of friends lost grows. This is part of the experience—something I accept. Still, I wish I could slow time, talk once more, or give one more hug.

The older I get, the more I realize how little I can actually control. I am also realizing how valuable time is. There is much I want to do, both professionally and personally. Yet, the time to do it shrinks. Where I’m at a loss is in handling relationships of various kinds. I often feel expected to fix things, even when I don’t want to or don’t see anything broken. When I receive feedback I don’t like, I tend to sit with it and consult a trusted third party. Even if I can’t accept all of the criticism, I can usually understand the perspective and intention. Just as I could not keep my elderly friends from leaving or passing away, there are relationships I cannot hold together by will alone. Some wounds I am simply not able to heal. In my early twenties, I would harm my own well-being trying to salvage relationships—both platonic and romantic—that were unsalvageable. I believed that suffering proved my love. In reality, I just ended up hurt and had to mend myself afterward.

After considerable therapy, I’ve developed a new process for complicated situations. I need to trust that both parties have each other’s best interests at heart and will be honest, even when it’s hard. Accepting accountability for harm caused, whether intentional or not, is another key. With these elements, many conflicts can be worked through. But if trust or accountability are missing, resolution is rare. In these cases, the person who lied must acknowledge the harm and explain what they need to feel safe being honest next time. I have had those conversations before. I’ve seen that reconciliation is possible. Sometimes, I lead by apologizing, but it only works if accountability exists on both sides. I wish my efforts alone could repair every situation, but I am only one person. Sometimes, I lie awake, wondering how to support someone while maintaining boundaries. I want to stay true to myself. Often, my efforts don’t feel like enough. I’m learning to accept my limits.

I am learning to recognize my worth and what I can offer. I cannot control the past or the pain others carry. Still, I can choose to be present. I can set healthy boundaries. I can invest energy where it’s respected. Though the ache of loss never fully fades, letting go—of people, control, or guilt—can also be an act of love. It’s for myself, and for others. Ultimately, I can only do my best. I offer compassion to those around me and also to myself as I navigate changing tides of relationships and time. What hurts the most is when what I offer isn’t enough. Now, when someone says they dislike me, or their view of me doesn’t align with mine, and it persists after careful thought, I will remove myself from the relationship. I used to think leaving was mean or spiteful. I’m starting to realize it can be a loving choice.

It would be cruel to promise changes I am not willing to make. I promise to consider what they said almost always. Sometimes, I’ll talk about it with my therapist. I want to see what I can learn from the interaction. I often journal and pray about it, reflecting on what I contributed and what I’d do differently. But if I were to do something differently, it doesn’t always mean I want to go back or spend more time with that person or in that situation. Usually, by the time I leave a relationship or situation, I’ve tried and tried to resolve the differences. I might have involved a mediator. Sometimes I take a break and return to try again. Because of my autism, I rehearse what I should say and try to take special care with the perspectives of others. None of this means I am perfect or never have to apologize. I say all this to illustrate my awareness of disability-related challenges. This is one reason I continue to read communication books.

With all of this in mind, there can come a moment when I know I have tried what I can, and as wonderful as it would be to be all-powerful, I am not. Whenever I have ignored my internal compass of what keeps me safe, it has never gone well. Someone might ask if this means I don’t forgive the people involved in these different situations. Not trusting someone to respect a boundary is not the same as forgiveness. I want the best for everyone involved, and it pains me greatly when I can no longer walk alongside them for whatever reason. There is always the hope that our paths might one daye day rejoin.