Pushing Boundaries

I was raised to be a nice girl: Think of others before yourself. Sensor that sharp tongue. Don’t hurt others feelings. Don’t rock the boat. Stop beating the dead horse. 😉

There’s nothing wrong with that, but it did teach me not to stretch boundaries. That would rock the boat. I’ve lived a lot of years like that, but in the couple of  years or so, I’ve found it necessary to rethink the definition of nice. To my surprise, my early attempts at pushing at my self-imposed boundaries were not met with the criticism I expected. I’ve learned that one can be assertive and kind at the same time, and that I can be friends with my competitors. I can even learn from them.

One of the areas I’ve resisted pushing boundaries was exercise. I don’t like to sweat, and I don’t like it when my muscles hurt. If it hurts, you’re supposed to stop, right? I’ve spent a lot of years maxing out at the bare minimum, and as a result, my weight has crept up to where it was the last time I was eight months pregnant. Not a good sign! I’ve started running again and while I still don’t like it, I have found I get more done in my office after I work out. My weight has started back down, too.

I’m becoming quite a rebel in my middle years and have starting thinking I’ve spent too many years being afraid to try things or of being judged. In fact, I realized that other day that in deciding to push my boundaries, I’m pushing my boundaries.


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