Why “Boundaries” Hurt (And What We’re Missing)

I used to feel like a steaming hot pile of dog doo every time someone told me I "just needed better boundaries." It was a fast-track to shame. My face burned. My stomach plummeted. My heart shattered. My thoughts swirled around and around: “They think I’m a bad parent, and maybe I am. They think I’m the cause of all this pain, and maybe I am. They think I’m weak and lazy, and maybe I am.”

And no wonder. 

Any time people use the word “boundaries” related to parenting, it’s judgy. The subtext screams shame and blame: If only you were more consistent, more structured, more authoritative, things wouldn't be this hard.

But it was hard. I was already doing everything I could. And still, things kept falling apart.

If you get swirly, ashamed, and confused every time someone brings up boundaries, this blog series is for you. I’ve got four blogs for you – 

1. (This one) how the dominant concept of boundaries that you hear everywhere is wrong and unhelpful (oh yeah, I’m coming guns blazing). 
2. What happens when your kid just…doesn’t do what you tell them – and why this is good!
3. Redefining boundaries as a tool to build a trusting connection in parent-child relationships, without toxic powerarchies or compliance culture.
4. Examples, examples, examples, because we just can’t read enough about how this looks and sounds in real-life circumstances.

By the end, you’ll be ready to clap back when someone tosses a boundaries-bomb intended to judge and shame you. Or perhaps, even more powerfully, you won’t even need to because you’ll be so grounded and at ease with your own approach.

Now, let the “boundaries” take-down begin.

The Old Boundary Paradigm

Let’s be clear about how murky the definition of “boundaries” can be in traditional parenting culture.

Some people (especially the church grandma giving side-eye and unsolicited advice) say, “You need to get some boundaries!” and what they mean is: Take your kid into the bathroom and spank them.

Is using physical punishment the definition of “having boundaries”? No. But we still hear it all the time. 

Others use "boundaries" to mean setting clear behavioral expectations like “Sit still,” “Be quiet,” or “Stop hitting your brother.” These are directives, not boundaries—but in popular culture, they get conflated every day.

But let’s assume a more generous and sophisticated take on “boundaries,” not the kind tossed around in Facebook comments and family gatherings. Traditional parenting defines boundaries like fences—clearly set and steadily maintained:

• “I said bedtime is 8:00, so it’s 8:00.”

• “You have to sit at the table until you finish your plate.”

• “We don’t hit when we are angry in this family.”

This definition of boundaries is meant to be universal, consistent, and non-negotiable. They are rooted in the belief that children thrive under predictability and that adult control fosters safety.

But let’s add even more nuance. At its most sophisticated, “boundaries” are statements about what adults will do to enforce parent-established norms, which are based on beliefs about right and appropriate behaviors.

The “Sturdy” Parent

From the bestselling book “Good Inside,” Dr. Becky Kennedy offers a widely quoted line: “Boundaries are not what we tell kids not to do; boundaries are what we tell kids we will do. Boundaries embody your authority as a parent and don't require your child to do anything.”

She explains how her definition of boundaries looks in action: “I'm going to turn around. And when I turn back to you, if the TV is not off, I will take the remote and turn it off myself.”

That’s clearer than the church grandma, but it still centers parental enforcement. Boundaries, in this model, are about adult behavior designed to control child behavior.

There’s still compassion in this approach; yet, Dr. Becky coaches parents to remain “sturdy” in the face of their children’s inevitable push-back. If you say, “I will take the remote and turn it off myself,” but the child cries and begs to be able to finish their show that has only 3 minutes left, you turn it off anyway. If their behavior accelerates into throwing pillows and insisting that they will not go upstairs to bed, you respond with compassion and co-regulation for the emotion, but you do not shift the boundary itself. 

Dr. Aliza Pressman, author of the bestselling book “The 5 Principles of Parenting,” has a clever reframe which makes this dynamic plain: “You get what you get, and you might get upset, but you’re still going to get what you get.”

These models assume you have a regulated (enough) child who can process rules and consequences. They assume children will learn from consistency. That pushing through distress toward compliance will deepen connection and security.

But what if your child doesn’t get regulated by predictability? What if your child is the one who explodes, panics, shuts down, or spirals into aggression in response to those very boundaries?

My kids didn’t fall in line and behave. My kids did not feel safer and more loved by consistency, predictability, and adult control. In fact, my family was nearly ripped to pieces by this kind of advice.

1-2-3 Magic Destroyed Me

When I first sought professional parenting help, I was drowning. My kids were 0, 2, and 4. I had postpartum depression. My husband was overwhelmed at work. 

I knew no one who was suffering as deeply as I was or whose children’s needs were as high. I was seeing similar behaviors to my friends–hitting, taunting, whining, meltdowns–but it seemed like other people’s challenges were on a spice-level 3 or 4, whereas we were blowing out my tastebuds with a straight 10, often many times per day. 

A therapist introduced me to "1-2-3 Magic," a behavioral system built around clearly stated expectations and calmly enforced consequences. She called them boundaries. She scripted it all for me:

“We don’t hit. We keep each other safe.”

“If you hit, you’ll sit on the stair landing for two or four minutes.”

“If you can’t stay on the step, you’ll go to your room until the time is up.”

All of this information would be delivered calmly, breezily. Grounded and steady. Safe. 

I followed this system to the letter. I used a calm voice. I stayed consistent. I co-regulated. I did all the things I was told would work.

I’ll jump right to the punchline: My kids NEVER simply sat on the step. Ever. Ever. Ever. 

 I carried thrashing bodies upstairs, heard the sound of fingernails scraping against walls, felt the wrenching pull of doors being shaken off hinges. I held door handles shut while my child smashed their own Lego creations, tore beloved books, screamed and raged, and begged to be let out. 

Only later, overcome with soul-wrending remorse and shame, they would weep in remorse over their rage and destruction: “Why did I do it? Why did I do it? Put it back together, mommy. Make it right again!” they wept in my arms, overcome by their own actions.

I ended up trapping them in their rooms until their strength gave out and they collapsed on the floor in utter exhaustion and despair, often taking up to an hour each time. I learned to leave the silence as long as I could, because if I peeked in too soon, the rage-whirlwind would resume.

I was told this was just a “testing season.” That it would pass. That consistency would heal it.

Instead, my 4-year-old began to talk about death. My 2-year-old stopped speaking. Sensory sensitivities exploded. OCD became a central part of our lives. Dressing and bathing became unbearable. Rage took over. They told me they hated me and drew pictures with knives and blood. 

And here’s the heartbreak: I really believed in the model. I believed that if I just regulated myself and them enough, if I stayed steady enough, if I empathized and named feelings, they would soften into compliance. They would weep in my arms, safe in my clear, consistent, and loving boundaries. 

But they didn’t. Months and months went by, and they didn’t.

What broke was not just the system. What broke was me.

Setting Ourselves Free

This isn’t a story about failing to parent well.

This is a story about a mismatch between parenting systems and children's nervous systems.

Behavior-based systems collapse when applied to kids with extreme sensitivity, demand avoidance, trauma history, or chronic burnout.

We need something different. And we need it desperately.

This season left lasting scars in my soul and in my heart. It broke my belief in myself wide open. I had spent my whole life following the mainstream rules to a T so I could be perfect and successful (and thus keep myself safe). But this was one system I could not master. 

Traditional boundary systems didn’t just fail my children — they pressed on every part of me that had been trained to comply, to people-please, to keep the peace by keeping myself small. When those systems didn’t work, it felt like I was failing. But the truth is, I was finally waking up. I was meeting myself underneath the mask. And what I found was painful — but also freeing. Because when control stops working, we’re invited into something deeper: healing, compassion, and a trust in ourselves that isn’t based on performance.

We’re invited to ask new and powerful questions:

• What if boundaries aren’t about control at all? 

• What if they are about clarity, care, and connection — a way of saying, this is what I can do, this is how I will stay safe, this is how I will protect our relationship? 

• What if boundaries aren’t about forcing a child to bend to our will, but about tending to the space between us with honesty and mutual respect? 

That’s the path we’re heading down — one where boundaries become a form of self-trust, an invitation to wholeness, and a way to stay close even when things are hard. It’s not about giving up on structure or support. It’s about redefining what safety really means — and how we offer it to ourselves and our children.

In next week’s post, we’ll explore what boundaries look like when they’re rooted in connection, nervous system awareness, and mutual respect.

Because there is another way.

And it doesn’t break us.