Limits

***Trigger warning for a bit of gory image***

When I was little, I loved going on the swings. That feeling of rising, holding your breath as you anticipate getting to the peak, and then the thrill of coming down after leaving your heart at the top. It was magic. My friends and I used to jump off the swings and see how far we could land. I would always get so scared, but eventually be able to lift off. It was exhilarating, but also, so dangerous.

Then came a very sobering moment when one of my friends jumped off the swing at a twisted angle and hit her head on a pole. She started crying, and blood started streaming down her forehead. When the blood landed on her mouth and she realized she was bleeding, she screamed. I can still hear it. We were all paralyzed. I don’t remember much after that, except that one of my older friends ran home and told a parent. We all huddled around my friend who was hurt and walked her home. She was fine, and we somehow were able to laugh about it some time later. But swings were changed forever.

It was one of the early lessons for me to understand that something good can also be something very bad, and to respect the power of limits. I’ve been thinking lately that I know my limits pretty well by now. But this is of course never the case. Just when you think you know something, you know nothing at all. Exploring, setting, and re-setting limits feels like the song of life.

Limits change incessantly. I could tolerate so much more when I was younger. But now, as I have gotten to know myself, the flames of my limits light up pretty quickly. I don’t have to verbalize it and formulate it in my logical, conscious brain. I respect my emotional reaction enough to listen and just stop. Buddhists say that the only constant in life is change. If the change is unbearable but inevitable, why can’t you stand it?

I think about how to push limits in therapy. People fall into old patterns all the time because it is the only thing they know. But then something snaps, and suddenly it rips them apart. How do you help someone from going past the limit? Should we? How much can we push?

Inside every limit is something beautiful. I think this is what Carl Jung was talking about with shadow. There is a dark side that is rich with information and self-discovery. Patients always ask me if they should avoid learning about self-harm, suicide, worthlessness, loss of control, abandonment, shame, etc. and all the dark concepts. The real question is, why have you been avoiding it all this time?? What is it about facing that darkness makes you want to run? What are you afraid of? That’s the real inner work. They don’t call this hard work for no reason.

Learning your limits takes time. I’m learning that some of my limits have serrated edges, and others are dull and forgiving. Some shock me, and others confuse me. In any case, the content of your limit is not actually important.

The most important part is that when you reach a limit and it cuts, you have the presence of another to understand and accept you, just as you are. I truly in the deepest of my heart believe in the power of attachment to heal. (What I’m not sure about is if we can be our own secure attachment figure. More on this later…) I’ve seen patients with severe, horrific mental health conditions reach the best possible outcome with just one person who cared deeply about them. People always call me naive. That is okay. They don’t know the half of it!

The truth is, I don’t know everything and I might change my mind. But for now, attachment gives me hope, and these days I’m looking for any kernel of hope I can find.

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