We all have them. Lines we don’t cross. Little mental boundaries that protect us. We don’t talk about them, they just ARE.
Some are instilled by society, and some we set for ourselves. What time we go to bed, what we will and won’t eat, what we will and won’t do. Most of the time, we don’t even think about it. They just exist and no one questions them. For the most part, they are harmless and keep us from hurting ourselves and others. They are our box, and comfort zone. And I for one am most uncomfortable when forced outside of them, or across them.
That is not to say that they are bad, or even restrictive. And sometimes those lines just might preserve our sanity.
One of those sanity saving lines I learned from my dad, who owned his own consulting business in the 90’s up until he died in the twenty-teens. He worked from home before it was an option for anyone that worked in an office, unless you commuted via email. His office was a large room on one end of the house. If he was working, the door was closed. From 9 to 5 was working hours. After that, the door would open and he was available to us as if he had come home. He set that boundary.
So when Covid hit in 2020, it was natural for me to go to my desk and work my hours, and not be “home” from 9 to 5. My family on the other hand, had to make a bit of an adjustment. Mom was home all day now! We can talk to her whenever we want!
Uh, No. That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works.
Enter my imaginary line in the sand. Once we discussed my boundary, they respected it. We are all adults, so it was easy to clue them into what I needed. I’m lucky. I don’t have to deal with a small child that doesn’t understand the difference between availability and physical presense. Really lucky there. And the boundary stands. I’m not “home” between 9 and 5. But my 50 foot commute is traffic free, and the coffee at the office is so much better than it used to be.