When Helping Hurts: Why Boundaries Are Acts of Self-Respect

How I learned that helping isn’t always love – and why boundaries saved me from myself.

It starts small.

A question. A request. A sigh.
Someone needs something.
And before I even think, I’m already in motion: I got it.
I jump in. I take over. I solve. I rescue.

And suddenly, I’m drowning in a problem that isn’t even mine.

I’m the one who gets things done.

I’m the go-to person. The fixer. The one who knows how to handle it.

I don’t do it because I’m asked.
I do it because I can’t not do it.

It looks like confidence from the outside.
But on the inside, it’s often a war.
Because while I’m solving everyone else’s problems, I slowly disappear from my own life.

I don’t notice my hunger.
I don’t feel my thirst.
I don’t even know I’m exhausted.
There’s only one mission: Finish. Fix. Solve. Move on.

The invisible yes

I say yes without checking in.
Without asking: Do I really want to help right now?

But I say yes because I know no one else will.
I say yes because I’ve learned that my worth is tied to how much I give.

And if I ever dare to say no, I don’t get space – I get pushback.
I get guilt. Pressure. Manipulation.
Until it feels easier to just say yes and lose myself than to say no and feel like I’ve failed someone.

The fairy tale that wasn’t

It’s like that old story of the miller’s daughter –
spinning straw into gold.
Doing the impossible, over and over, for others.
Quietly. Relentlessly. At any cost.

And yes, I do it. I make it work.
But nobody sees the price I pay.

They don’t see the hours.
The energy.
The life force drained.

And when I finally succeed?
Rarely a thank you.
Sometimes a shrug.
Sometimes even: “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

That hurts.
Because deep down, I don’t want applause.
I just want to be seen.

Why?

Because I’ve been doing this since I was a kid.

I learned early:
Love is earned.
Love is conditional.
Be useful. Be needed. Be good.

So I became the best helper in the room –
thinking that would make me worthy of being loved back.

Today, I know: That was never the deal.

I still help – but I’ve stopped disappearing.

I’m learning to say:
Yes, but not always.
Not everything.
Not at the cost of myself.

I’m learning that helping is beautiful – when it comes from freedom.
Not fear.
Not obligation.
Not old wounds replaying themselves in real time.

I want to give – from fullness, not emptiness.

I want to show up for others without vanishing in the process.
I want to support others – and finally support myself.
And most of all:
I want to be the one who sees me. First.