When Gould opens the door and reluctantly invites Mae inside, her fury turns to shock. The luxury apartment has been stripped bare of its furniture, sold off, it turns out, to meet the expenses of training Braddock. “Sorry about that,” Gould says by way of explanation. “Just don’t want folks to see you down, that’s all.”
“I didn’t know,” Mae says quietly. “I mean, I thought that—”
“Yeah. That’s the idea,” Gould says, and raises his hands like a boxer. “Always keep your hands up.”
The man has boundaries. He draws a line between his private affairs and his public persona.
Boundaries are necessary for well-being. Countries without borders will cease to be countries. Homeowners who leave their houses unlocked place themselves at the mercy of thieves. Invading someone’s personal life can lead to a sock in the jaw.
Our age has blurred these divisions. The therapists among us—not necessarily the ones with offices and a degree on the wall—encourage the sharing of secrets and personal troubles. Social media, in particular, has removed the walls that once delineated the interior life from the public square.
It wasn’t always this way. “A man of few words” was once a compliment. Keeping your nose out of other people’s business was a common social rule. Presidents as different as the reticent George Washington and the gregarious Ronald Reagan both kept separate their public and private lives.
When we’re sure of ourselves, when we respect who we are and what we’ve accomplished, we don’t need to cross the border and post a river of self-congratulatory announcements on YouTube or mock others on Twitter.
And traffic on this border goes both ways. To maintain our spirit, we must guard ourselves against the intrusions of others. If forced into some awkward situation at the office where there’s gossip about a fellow employee, we can become like a good priest in his confessional, in one ear and out the other. If a friend is complaining about her marriage, we may sympathize, but we can also let down a portcullis of discernment, reminding ourselves that there are two sides to such stories.
Boundaries are about respect for ourselves and for others. Crossing that line, or letting others cross it, should always give us pause. Does our 35-year-old daughter, a wife and busy mother of four, really need to hear our litany of complaints? Do details shared from our private life with our employees weaken our leadership? Does that friend who rails about politics provide entertainment or bring us down?
“Good fences make good neighbors.” Immortalized by poet Robert Frost, that old proverb meant respecting our property and that of others. By applying that same adage to ourselves and those we love, we’re showing that same respect for our most important properties of all. We have the right to decide when to lower our guard and should grant that same privilege to others.
Otherwise, let’s try to keep our hands up.
