J
im had never been able say no to anyone, especially to his supervisors at work. He’d moved up to the position of opera-tions manager in a large firm. His dependability had earned him the reputation of “Mr. Can Do.”But his kids had another name for him: “The Phantom.” Jim was never home. Being “Mr. Can Do” meant late nights at the office. It meant business dinners several nights a week. It meant weekends on the road, even after he’d promised the kids fishing trips and trips to the zoo.
Jim didn’t like being absent so much, but he had justified it to himself, saying, This is my contribution to the kids, my way of giving them the good life. His wife, Alice, had rationalized the
“dadless dinners” by telling the children (and herself), “This is Dad’s way of telling us he loves us.” And she almost believed it.
Finally, however, Alice had had enough. One night she sat Jim down on the couch in the family room and said, “I feel like a single parent, Jim. I missed you for a while, but now all I feel is nothing.”
Jim avoided her eyes. “Honey, I know, I know,” he replied. “I’d really like to say no to people more, but it’s just so hard to—”
“I found someone you can say no to,” Alice broke in. “Me and the kids!”
That did it. Something broke deep within Jim. A sense of pain, of guilt and shame, of helplessness and rage.
The words tumbled out of his mouth. “Do you think I like being like this, always giving in to others? Do you think I enjoy
letting my family down?” Jim paused, struggling for composure.
“All my life it’s been this way, Alice. I’ve always feared letting people down. I hate this part of me. I hate my life. How did I get like this?”
How did Jim “get like this”? He loved his family. The last thing he wanted was to neglect his most precious relationships:
his wife and children. Jim’s problems didn’t start the day he was married. They developed during his early significant relation-ships. They were already a part of his character structure.
How do boundary abilities develop? That’s the purpose of this chapter. We hope you’ll be able to gain some understand-ing of where your own boundaries started crumblunderstand-ing or became set in concrete—and how to repair them.
As you read this section, remember David’s prayer to God about his life and development:
Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting. (Ps. 139:23–24) God’s desire is for you to know where your injuries and deficits are, whether self-induced or other-induced. Ask him to shed light on the significant relationships and forces that have contributed to your own boundary struggles. The past is your ally in repairing your present and ensuring a better future.
Boundary Development
Remember the old saying, “Insanity is genetic. You inherit it from your kids”? Well, boundaries aren’t inherited. They are built. To be the truth-telling, responsible, free, and loving people God wants us to be we need to learn limits from child-hood on. Boundary development is an ongoing process, yet its most crucial stages are in our very early years, where our char-acter is formed.
The Scriptures advise parents to “train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it” (Prov.
22:6). Many parents misunderstand this passage. They think
“the way he should go” means “the way we, the parents think he (or she) should go.” Can you see the boundary conflicts already beginning?
The verse actually means “the way God has planned for him (or her) to go.” In other words, good parenting isn’t emotionally bludgeoning the child into some clone or ideal of the perfect child. It’s being a partner in helping young ones discover what God intended for them to be and helping them reach that goal.
The Bible teaches that we pass through life in stages. John writes to “little children,” “young men,” and “fathers.” Each group has distinct tasks to perform (1 John 2:12–13 KJV).
Boundaries also develop in specific, distinct phases that you can perceive. In fact, by noting infants and children in their early parental interactions, child development profes-sionals have able to record the specific phases of boundary development.1
Bonding: The Foundation of Boundary Building
Wendy couldn’t understand it. Something wasn’t jelling. All those codependency books. All those assertiveness tapes. All that self-talk about being more confrontive. And yet, every time she talked to her mother on the phone, all the advice, all the self-help techniques melted away into vague, cloudy memories.
A typical conversation about Wendy’s children would always conclude with her mom’s analysis of Wendy’s imperfect parent-ing style. “I’ve been a mother longer than you,” Mom would say.
“Just do it my way.”
Wendy resented her advice. It wasn’t that she wasn’t open to guidance—Lord knows she could use it. It was just that her mom thought her way was the only way. Wendy wanted a new relationship with her mom. She wanted to be honest about her mom’s control, her polite put-downs, and her inflexibility.
Wendy wanted an adult-to-adult friendship with her mom.
But the words wouldn’t pass her lips. She’d write letters explaining her feelings. She’d rehearse before telephoning. Yet,
when the time came, she panicked and remained silent. She well knew how to be compliant, appreciative, and childlike with her mom. It was only later, when she became angry, that she knew she’d been taken to task again. She was beginning to give up hope that things would ever change.
Wendy’s struggle illustrates a basic need that we all have in boundary building. No matter how much you talk to yourself, read, study, or practice, you can’t develop or set boundaries apart from supportive relationships with God and others. Don’t even try to start setting limits until you have entered into deep, abid-ing attachments with people who will love you no matter what.
Our deepest need is to belong, to be in a relationship, to have a spiritual and emotional “home.” The very nature of God is to be in relationship: “God is love,” says 1 John 4:16. Love means relationship—the caring, committed connection of one individual to another.
Like God, our most central need is to be connected. When God said that even in his perfect new universe, it wasn’t “good for the man to be alone” (Gen. 2:18), he wasn’t talking about marriage. He was talking about relationship—other people out-side ourselves to bond with, trust, and go to for support.
We are built for relationship. Attachment is the foundation of the soul’s existence. When this foundation is cracked or faulty, boundaries become impossible to develop. Why? Because when we lack relationship, we have nowhere to go in a conflict. When we are not secure that we are loved, we are forced to choose between two bad options:
1. We set limits and risk losing a relationship. This was Wendy’s fear. She was afraid her mother would reject her, and she would be isolated and alone. She still needed Mom’s con-nection to feel secure.
2. We don’t set limits and remain a prisoner to the wishes of another. By not setting limits on her mom, Wendy was a pris-oner to her mom’s wishes.
So the first developmental task of infants is to bond with their mom and dad. They need to learn that they are welcome and safe in the world. To bond with baby, Mom and Dad need
to provide a consistent, warm, loving, and predictable emotional environment for him or her. During this stage, Mom’s job is to woo the child into entering a relationship with the world—via attachment with her. (Most often, this is Mom’s job, but Dad or a caregiver can do this as well.)
Bonding takes place when the mother responds to the needs of the child, the needs for closeness, for being held, for food, and for changing. As baby experiences needs and the mother’s positive response to those needs, he or she begins to internalize, or take in, an emotional picture of a loving, constant mother.
Babies, at this stage, have no sense of self apart from Mother.
They think, “Mommy and me are the same.” It’s sometimes called symbiosis, a sort of “swimming in closeness” with Mother.
This symbiotic union is the reason babies panic when Mother isn’t around. No one can comfort them but their mother.
The emotional picture developed by infants forms from thousands of experiences in the first few months of life. The ulti-mate goal of Mother’s “being there” is a state called emotional object constancy. Object constancy refers to the child’s having an internal sense of belonging and safety, even away from the presence of the mother. All those experiences of constant lov-ing pay off in a child’s inner sense of security. It’s been built in.
Object constancy is referred to in the Bible as “being rooted and established in love” (Eph. 3:17) and as having been “rooted and built up in [Christ]” (Col. 2:7). It illustrates the principle that God’s plan for us is to be loved enough by him and others, to not feel isolated—even when we’re alone.2
Bonding is the prelude. As children learn to feel safe and at home with their primary relationships, they are building good foundations to withstand the separateness and conflict that comes with boundary development.
Separation and Individuation: The Construction of a Soul
“It’s like a switch was thrown,” said Millie to the friends who made up her church Mom’s Group. The Mom’s Group provided
activities and a place to talk for mothers of infants and toddlers.
“On her first birthday—to the very day—my Hillary became the most difficult child I’d ever seen. This is the same baby who, the day before, had eaten her spinach like it was her last meal.
The next day, though, it all ended up on the floor!”
Millie’s exasperation was met with approving nods and smiles. The mothers all agreed—their babies had seemed to switch personalities around the same time. Gone were the agreeable, lovable infants. In their places were cranky, demand-ing toddlers.
What had happened? Any competent pediatrician or child therapist will attest to a shift that begins during the first year of life and continues until about three years. A shift which, though sometimes disruptive and chaotic, is completely normal. And part of God’s plan for the child.
As infants gain a sense of internal safety and attachment, a second need arises. The baby’s need for autonomy, or indepen-dence, starts to emerge. Child experts call this separation and individuation. “Separation” refers to the child’s need to perceive him or herself as distinct from Mother, a “not-me” experience.
“Individuation” describes the identity the child develops while separating from Mother. It’s a “me” experience.
You can’t have “me” until you first have a “not-me.” It’s like trying to build a house on a plot of land filled with trees and wild brush. You must first cut away some space, then begin building your home. You must first determine who you aren’t before you discover the true, authentic aspects of your God-given identity.
The only recorded instance of Jesus’ boyhood describes this principle. Remember when Jesus’ mother and father left Jerusalem without him? When they went back and found him teaching in the temple, his mother admonished him. Jesus’
words to his mother were, “Why were you searching for me?
Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?” (Luke 2:49).
Translation: I have values, thoughts, and opinions that are dif-ferent from yours, Mother. Jesus knew who he was not, as well as who he was.
The separation-individuation process isn’t a smooth transition into a person. Three phases are critical to developing healthy boundaries in childhood: hatching, practicing, and rapprochement.
Hatching: “Mommy and Me Aren’t the Same”
“It’s not fair,” a mother of a five-month-old boy told me. “We had four months of bliss and closeness. I loved Eric’s helplessness, his dependency. He needed me, and I was enough for him.”
“All of a sudden it changed. He got—I don’t know how to say it—more restless, wigglier. He didn’t always want me to hold him. He became more interested in other people, even in brightly colored toys, than me!
“I’m beginning to get the picture,” the woman concluded.
“He needed me for four months. Now motherhood is spending the next seventeen and half years letting him leave me!”
In many ways, this mother got the picture. The first five to ten months of life mark a major shift in infants: from “Mommy and me are the same” to “Mommy and me aren’t the same.”
During this period, babies begin moving out of their passive union with Mother into an active interest in the outside world.
They become aware that there’s a big, exciting world out there—and they want a piece of the action!
This period is called “hatching” or “differentiation” by child researchers. It’s a time of exploration, of touching, of tasting and feeling new things. Though children in this phase are still dependent on Mother, they aren’t wrapped up in closeness with her. The months of nurturing have paid off—the child feels safe enough to start taking risks. Watch crawlers in full tilt. They don’t want to miss out. This is a geographical boundary in motion—away from Mother.
Look into the eyes of a baby in the “hatching” phase. You can see Adam’s wide-eyed wonder at the flora, fauna, and majesty of the earth created for him by the Lord. You can see the desire to discover, the drive to learn hinted at in Job 11:7:
“Can you discover the depths of God? Can you discover the
limits of the Almighty?” No, we can’t. But we are created to dis-cover, to experience the Creation and to know the Creator.
This is a difficult period for new mothers. As the mom in the beginning of this section described, it can be a letdown. It’s especially hard for women who have never really “hatched”
themselves. They long for nothing but closeness, neediness, and dependency from their baby. These women often conceive lots of children, or find ways to spend time with very young infants.
They often don’t enjoy the “separating” part of mothering. They don’t like the distance between themselves and baby. It’s a painful boundary for Mother, but a necessary one for the child.
Practicing: “I Can Do Anything!”
“But what’s wrong with wanting to have fun? Life wasn’t meant to be boring,” protested Derek. In his late forties, Derek dressed like a college student. His face had that tanned, unlined look that appears unnatural on a middle-aged man.
Something was out of place. Derek was talking to his pastor about switching his membership from the thirty-five-and-older singles group to the twenties and thirties group. “They’re just not my speed. I like roller coasters, late nights out, and switch-ing jobs. Keeps me young, you know?”
Derek’s style describes someone still stuck in the second stage of separation-individuation: practicing. During this period, which usually lasts from age ten months to eighteen months (and then returns later), babies learn to walk and begin to use words.
The difference between hatching and practicing is radical.
While the hatching baby is overwhelmed by this new world and still leans a great deal on Mother, the practicing child is trying to leave her behind! The newfound ability to walk opens up a sense of omnipotence. Toddlers feel exhilaration and energy.
And they want to try everything, including walking down steep stairs, putting forks into electric sockets, and chasing cats’ tails.
People like Derek who are stuck in this stage can be lots of fun. Except when you pop their bubble about their unrealistic
grandiosity and their irresponsibility. Then you become a “wet blanket.” It’s revealing to talk to the “wet blanket” who is mar-ried to a practicing child. No job is more tiring.
Proverbs 7:7 describes the youth stuck in the practicing stage: “I saw among the simple, I noticed among the young men, a youth who lacked judgment.”
This young man had energy, but no impulse control, no boundaries on his passions. He becomes sexually promiscuous, which often happens to adults who are caught in this phase. And he ends up dead: “till an arrow pierces his liver, like a bird dart-ing into a snare, little knowdart-ing it will cost him his life” (Prov. 7:23).
Practicers feel that they’ll never be caught. But life does catch up with them.
What practicing infants (the ones for whom omnipotence is appropriate!) need most from parents is a responsive delight in their delight, exhilaration at their exhilaration, and some safe limits to practice. Good parents have fun with toddlers who jump on the bed. Poor parents either quench their children’s desire by not allowing any jumping, or they set no limits and allow them to jump all over Mom and Dad’s orange juice and coffee. (Derek’s parents were the second type.)
In the practicing phase children learn that aggressiveness and taking initiative are good. Parents who firmly and consistently set realistic boundaries with children in this period, but without spoiling their enthusiasm, help them through the transition.
Have you ever seen the posters depicting “baby’s first steps”? Some of these portray a wrong notion. They present the child taking hesitant steps toward a waiting mother, arms out-stretched. The truth is different. Most mothers report, “I watched my baby’s first steps from behind!” The practicing tod-dler moves from safety and warmth to excitement and discov-ery. Physical and geographical boundaries help the child learn action without danger.
The practicing phase provides the child with the energy and drive to make the final step toward becoming an individual, but energetic exhilaration can’t last forever. Cars can’t always run at
full speed. Sprinters can’t keep up the pace for miles. And prac-ticing children must give way to the next phase, rapprochement.
Rapprochement: “I Can’t Do Everything”
Rapprochement, which occurs from around eighteen months to three years, comes from a French word meaning “a restoration of harmonious relations.” In other words, the child comes back to reality. The grandiosity of the past few months slowly gives way to the realization that “I can’t do everything I want.” Children become anxious and aware that the world’s a scary place. They realize that they still need Mother.
The rapprochement phase is a return to connection with Mother, but this time it’s different. This time the child brings a more separate self into the relationship. There are two people now, with differing thoughts and feelings. And the child is ready to relate to the outside world without losing a sense of self.
Typically, this is a difficult period for both children and par-ents. Rapprochement toddlers are obnoxious, oppositional, tem-peramental, and downright angry. They can remind you of someone with a chronic toothache.
Let’s look at some of the tools toddlers use to build bound-aries in this stage.
Anger. Anger is a friend. It was created by God for a purpose:
to tell us that there’s a problem that needs to be confronted.
Anger is a way for children to know that their experience is different from someone else’s. The ability to use anger to distin-guish between self and others is a boundary. Children who can appropriately express anger are children who will understand, later in life, when someone is trying to control or hurt them.
Ownership. Sometimes misunderstood as simply a “selfish”
stage, rapprochement introduces words to the youngster’s vocabulary such as, mine, my, and me. Suzy doesn’t want any-one else to hold her doll. Billy doesn’t want to share his trucks with a visiting toddler. This important part of becoming a self is often quite difficult for Christian parents to understand. “Well,