You Are Not a Doormat: Reflections on Boundaries, Grooming, and Choosing Yourself

t’s been a great week.

June in Connecticut is an interesting time. It’s warm, it’s sunny, it’s beautiful — the beaches are packed. But for those of us with allergies, it’s also heavy pollen, high humidity, and low air quality. It’s not all bad, though — some days are easier. More and more, I’m learning it’s about mindset. I’m learning that I don’t have to feel good to be happy.

The four seasons don’t do my head any favors. When I thought about moving, I weighed the pros and cons — would I rather feel better physically, or stay close to my family? Up until now, I chose to stay close. I figured, no matter where I am, I’ll have limitations… so why not stay near the people who love me?

That was until I found out the Mayo Clinic could help me. I made a plan — manageable, realistic. I couldn’t wait to tell my family. I was going to get better! But instead of excitement or support, what I heard was: “This is inconvenient for us.”

That moment taught me something important. For four years I’ve been battling this illness, choosing proximity to family over my own healing. How did that help me? All it did was reinforce the idea that their comfort mattered more than my well-being. And honestly? I regret not choosing myself sooner.

When Kindness Turns Into Obligation

I’ve always gone out of my way for people. It’s part of who I am. But doing it repeatedly doesn’t inspire gratitude — it inspires expectation. People stop saying thank you. They start acting like they deserve it.

A small but revealing example: I’ve been picking up after other people’s dogs in our dog area for six months, just to avoid walking through a minefield. I didn’t mind… until a stranger screamed at me while I was mid-cleanup. She didn’t wait to see what I was doing. She just assumed I wasn’t cleaning up after Nicky and launched into a verbal assault.

I had options — oh, I had ideas. But instead, I used my recovery program. I calmly turned Nicky so the woman could see I had bags, rolled my eyes, and turned away. Sometimes silence is the sharpest blade.

Another example: I worked in the office of a family member for years. I was often berated for not knowing things that weren’t even my job — like designing a website or writing a press release. I didn’t know how, so I volunteered my entire summer to help a PR guy just so we could get the release done for free. I thought my family would be proud.

At the end of the summer? Not even a thank you. No appreciation. Just criticism. We “didn’t get enough press.” I remember sitting on my couch, not tired… just empty. I think part of my work ethic broke that day. And still, I kept doing it. Over and over.

That’s why I’m writing this.

You Can Hold the Door, But You Are Not the Doorman

Being kind doesn’t mean sacrificing yourself. When you give an inch, and someone demands a mile — that’s not kindness, that’s grooming.

I wish I learned this before 40. But I’m learning it now.

I was groomed to people-please. I was taught that my job was to clear the dishes, to move out of the way. If I was in the grocery aisle and someone walked toward me, I’d feel like I was the inconvenience — even if I was there first. Why? Because I was always told to move.

I was told education was important, but when the time came, I was forced into a trade school I didn’t want — out of spite. I fought back. I cried in admissions. I begged not to go. But I was told to sit down, shut up, and do the work. That if I failed, it would be my fault. So I complied. The next 10 years I was in a family members office and looking back in retrospect: Perhaps that was the result that was sought: Control over Dana. It fits. I hate to admit it, hate to think of my family in such an ill light, that they would purposely limit me to enforce their own convenience? I hate every letter that I am writing and that is why I have to write this out.

And it wasn’t compliance — it was fear. Fear of failure. Fear of family. Fear of the consequences.

I’m still working through a lot of resentment. That’s not something I’ll resolve today, or even this year. But I am learning. I am learning everything I wish I did not have to.

You Are Worth It!

I’m learning to say no. I’m learning to believe that I have value. That I am not a machine. That someone praising me for being a robot 90% of the time and humiliating me for the other 10% that I am human… that isn’t love — it’s abuse.

I am not an ornament in someone else’s life. I am my own whole person even if that is how I was raised.

That belief starts with positive self-talk. With going back to that child inside and saying:

“You’re not bad. You’re not in the way. People made you feel that way because they were broken, not because you were.”

I’m here now. And I’m going to protect you.

Little Dana and Nicky — I’ve got you. And I promise: never again.

A Note to Anyone This Resonates With

Ask yourself:

• Do you cook for yourself?

• Do you make your bed because you want to, or out of fear?

• Do you exercise for your joy, or because you feel you’re supposed to?

What do you enjoy? Is it walking alone? Dancing in the kitchen? Morning music?

And if you feel frustrated with yourself — ask: how can I show myself kindness today?

Because you, too, are worth it. 🖤

With Love,

Dana & Nicky.