Protecting My Time, One Stitch at a Time, and Learning Boundaries the Hard Way

If you have worked in leadership long enough, you eventually learn this truth, you cannot outrun your own lack of boundaries. I tried. I tried very hard. I tried with color coded calendars, heroic levels of multitasking, and the kind of “I am fine” energy that fools absolutely no one. I treated my time like an endlessly stretchable resource and my energy like something I could simply will back into existence.

What finally taught me was not a leadership book or a conference or a well-timed coaching session.

It was a stitch.

A stitch is intentional,
A stitch is chosen,
A stitch is repeated until it becomes something that holds.

Boundaries are the same, not dramatic lines in the sand, but small, consistent practices that keep us from unraveling. They are less about saying no and more about choosing how you show up, repeatedly, in a way that does not cost you your health, your clarity, or your sense of self.

To some people, “boundaries” is a negative word, a confusing word, or a word people use when they do not want to do something. And honestly, all of those interpretations have a little truth in them. But boundaries, real, healthy, professional boundaries, are none of those things. They are not walls, they are not punishments, and they are not avoidance strategies.

Boundaries are how we protect our time, our focus, our space, and our energy. They are how we stay grounded and functional in the middle of everything we carry.

The Boundaries I Thought I Had, and the Ones I Didn’t

For most of my career, I believed I was excellent at boundaries. And in some ways, I was. As a nurse, as a leader, as someone who understood roles and professionalism, I could hold those lines with clarity and consistency. Nurse and patient boundaries, easy. Leadership and team boundaries, clear. Professional expectations, no problem.

So, imagine my surprise, and by surprise I mean full body resistance, when someone gently pointed out that I was actually terrible at boundaries.

Not the professional ones,
The time and energy ones.

The ones that keep you from pouring yourself out until there is nothing left,
The ones that prevent you from treating your calendar like a suggestion,
The ones that keep you from answering emails at eleven at night because “it will only take a second.”

Those boundaries.

I did not realize how bad I was at them until my body staged a very dramatic intervention.

The Day My Skin Caught Fire

At the peak of one of my leadership roles, the kind of peak where the view is beautiful, but the air is thin and you have not slept in three days, I was sitting in my office when I felt something strange. A burning sensation down my right hip. Not metaphorical burning. Actual burning.

I said out loud, “Huh. My skin is burning down my hip. That is weird.”

My office mate did not even look up from her computer.
“Call your doctor,” she said, “you have shingles.”

I laughed.
I was not even forty.
I did not have shingles.

She rolled her eyes, handed me my phone, and said, “Call.”

Three hours later, sitting in my doctor’s office, the blisters started to form.

I had shingles.

I wish I could tell you that I instantly connected the dots, that I had a profound moment of clarity where I realized stress and lack of boundaries had collided in a very literal, very painful way.

But no.
It took me six more months to get out of my own way. I even insisted on continuing to work in dresses and tennis shoes so nothing rubbed against the blisters. Very eighties Working Girl of me, minus the shoulder pads.

The Leadership Lesson I Did Not Want but Absolutely Needed

Here is the part that stung more than the shingles, I realized I was modeling this behavior for my teams. I was showing them that this level of stress was normal, that being constantly available was expected, that sacrificing your time and energy was simply part of the job.

I was not just burning myself out,
I was unintentionally giving everyone else permission to do the same.

No job is worth getting shingles for,
And boundaries, real boundaries, are not only healthy, but they are also professional.

That realization changed every leadership decision I made afterward. It changed how I scheduled my time, how I communicated expectations, how I showed up for my teams, and how I showed up for myself.

The Stitch That Holds

When I think about boundaries now, I think about stitching.

A stitch that is too tight puckers the fabric. It looks controlled, but it is distorted. That is the boundary that is really perfectionism in disguise, the one that says, “I am fine,” when you are not, or “I do not need help,” when you absolutely do.

A stitch that is too loose unravels the moment there is tension. That is the boundary you set once, quietly, and hope someone magically honors.

But a stitch that is consistent, not tight, not loose, holds.

Boundaries work the same way.
They are not about intensity,
They are about consistency.

You do not need to be fierce,
You need to be steady.

Repair Is Part of the Craft

Even the best seams pop sometimes. Even the most practiced boundary setters slip. That is not failure, it is maintenance. There will be days when you overcommit, when you say yes when you meant no, when you find yourself answering emails at eleven at night again. When that happens, you do not shame yourself. You pick up the needle, you adjust the tension, and you stitch again.

The boundary that finally shifted things for me was simple, my time and energy are not renewable on demand. They require protection, intention, and practice. And when I honor them, everything else, my leadership, my relationships, my creativity, my health, holds together with a cleaner, steadier stitch.