boundaries + the old man at the diner
July 17th, 2016. I was precisely one day away from the lowest point of my life thus far, the day before things got so bad that it all finally broke and I changed things for the better.
I know the exact day because the day before the lowest point in my life was also the day after my best friend’s wedding. To be clear, things weren’t bad because of the wedding. The wedding was love-filled and incredible. I was sad it was over.
Why was everything so bad? That’s a story for a different day.* All you need to know for this story is that I was in a rough spot.
I had a few things to work through. So I decided to do what I always do when I have things to work through: journal.
Here’s something you might not know about me: I love diners. Diners occupy a romantic space in my heart right between bookstores and a trusty pen that writes smoothly on the page. One of my most transcendent time-and-space-aren’t-real experiences happened in a diner (…is *still happening* at that diner…)
I don’t often visit diners these days, but back in 2016 I went all the time. Especially late at night, journal in hand (my late-night diner order: coffee + toast).
On the route home from my friend’s wedding was a diner I’d been wanting to visit.
July 17th, 2016 was a Sunday. I’d be driving home around lunchtime. This is not an ideal time to visit a diner for introspective journalling.
But I wanted to have reflection time while the magic of the wedding was still swirling within me and before I reached home.
I decided to stop at this diner even though I knew it’d be crowded.
I opened the door to tables packed with plates of omelettes, home fries, and stacks of thin toast. I glanced amid servers refilling coffee and wiping ketchup off tables and saw what I’d been hoping for: counter seating.
The host seated me quickly at the counter. I placed my order, ripped open two of those tiny creamers to add to my coffee, took a sip, and brought out my journal. Finally, time to write.
The hubbub isn’t so bad, I thought. Sometimes it’s nice to lose yourself in the din. I was pleased as I started writing.
And then that thing happened — that thing that I was so used to at that point in life. That thing that many other young women who wear a gentle smile though life are used to: an older man decided he was entitled to my time.
This is a common phenomenon, and I get it. There are many lonely older men out there. And when they see a young woman alone, they think “Ah, someone I can talk to.” If this just happened every now and then, it would be a harmless social interaction. But at that point in my life it happened all the time. More frequently, even, than my diner visits. It seemed that men of a particular generation felt entitled to my time, all the time. And I, not wanting to be mean, gave it to them.
An older man, who’d been sitting a few stools away at the counter, scooched over to sit next to me. He engaged me in conversation. I smiled politely. We chatted a bit.
I tried a few times to wrap up the conversation, and I thought he might let me go, but he pressed on, and then my food was brought out, and I started to realize that my time at the diner was ticking away.
A person can only reasonably linger so long at a busy diner.
Just as I was feeling desperate, trying to find a polite way to end the conversation, this man — no joke — pulled from his jacket a pocket-sized copy of The Constitution.
“Do you know what this is?” he asked, shaking The Constitution at me.
Oh lord, I thought, realizing that this conversation wasn’t going to end itself.
It was only in that moment, watching my much-needed, romantic-diner-journal time slipping away, that I had the courage to do what I should have been doing all along in these situations: I ended the conversation.
I interrupted the man mid-rant about how no one reads The Constitution anymore, and I said “I’m going to give you my attention for one more minute, and then I’m going to return to journalling.”
He was startled and sputtered for a moment, but respected the boundary I’d put up. I had my journal time, ate my omelette, and we said a friendly goodbye when I left.
I learned a lesson that day that I’ve never forgotten: I deserve to set boundaries.
Ok, I learned a bunch of lessons:
Many people will take as much from you as you allow. You need to be the one to stake your boundaries. Maybe it shouldn’t be that way, but it is. It’s your responsibility. Also, most people will respect a boundary once you set it. It’s scary to do it, but once you do, it usually has the desired effect.
It was only the preciousness of my journalling time that drove me to protect it.
I hadn’t realized, prior to that diner trip, that all my time and all my attention are precious, precious enough to protect. I don’t have to give my time or attention away just because someone else wants it.
My journalling time was fruitful, the abundant love at the wedding was a healing balm, and I made some big changes on July 19th that turned things around.
But the happy ending of this story is that I mustered up courage to set a boundary that violated a social norm.
And, my friend, once you taste the freedom of prioritizing your needs over being polite to a random man, there’s no going back.
I’m telling you this story because I’m teaching a class about Boundaries on Tuesday.
Herbs for Boundaries is the first class in the Herbs for Living course because I truly believe that boundaries are foundational to a happy life.
There are many stories I could have told you about boundaries. This was just the first one that came to me when I sat down to write this email. Plus, I got to mentally visit a diner while writing it.
I’m sure we all have stories about times we let someone cross a boundary, or times when we didn’t set a boundary that we should have. But how many stories do you have in which you triumphantly set a boundary?
Would you like more?
If you’re wondering how herbs can help you with boundaries, here are some of the things we’ll be covering on Tuesday:
one rockstar plant ally for supporting boundaries
how to work with that ally (i.e. recipes, daily life tips + general magic)
how the immune system is energetically entwined with your boundaries
basic herbal support for immune health
This class will also feature tough love and potent questions regarding your relationship with boundaries. You'll leave feeling inspired to set + maintain the boundaries that you need to thrive.
Boundaries are very important to me. Sometimes, having boundaries means ending a conversation with an intrusive stranger or a lingering ex, sometimes it means saying no to an event or yes to strategically planted Arborvitae. But it can also mean setting up the structure of your life to prioritize your joy. It's all important. And I'm eager to share this with you, and to challenge you, because you also deserve boundaries.
Your time and attention are precious. If you could use a boost of support in setting boundaries to protect it, join me for Herbs for Living.
yours in strangely shelf-stable tiny creamers,
Amanda
P.S. Don't judge me for using those tiny creamers. We all have our romantic notions.
P.P.S. Herbs for Living will be great. Here's the link again.
*or maybe not, because boundaries