How Do You Know Which One You’re Operating From?
Most people believe they are setting boundaries.
In reality, many of us are simply justifying ourselves.
At first glance, those two things can look identical. Both involve explaining a decision. Both involve saying no. Both involve standing up for yourself in some way.
Many people believe they are setting boundaries when, in reality, they are explaining themselves to be understood.
But internally, they come from completely different places.
And over time, I’ve noticed something interesting:
One of the quiet signs of emotional growth is that our explanations get shorter.
A conversation I had at the gym recently reminded me why.
A Simple Question
A few days ago, I was talking with a friend of mine, Brandon, at the gym. We were discussing some upcoming episodes of my podcast when he asked me a simple question.
“What brought you to Arizona in the first place?”
That question could easily lead to a long story.
There are many experiences behind that decision. Injustice, I felt. Mistakes I made. Lessons I had to learn about myself.
Years ago, I probably would have explained it all.
I would have tried to make sure the other person understood every detail so the story made sense to me.
But instead, I gave him one sentence.
I said:
“I was hurt by a lot of the injustice I experienced, but I had to realize that I wasn’t completely right either—and both of those things could be true at the same time.”
Then I stopped talking.
No long explanation.
No defense.
No attempt to manage how the story landed.
Just the truth.
The Need to Be Understood
Earlier in my life, I felt a strong need to make sure people understood why I did certain things.
Not necessarily because I was dishonest, but because I wanted the story to land correctly. I wanted people to see my reasoning.
That often meant explaining more.
And more.
And more.
But as I grew emotionally, I realized something important.
When we are constantly explaining ourselves, we are often trying to manage other people’s reactions.
We want them to see us a certain way.
We want them to agree with our perspective.
And that’s usually where justification lives.
What Brandon Said Next
After I answered his question, Brandon paused for a moment and said something that caught me off guard.
He said I had a superpower.
Naturally, I asked what he meant.
He said the superpower wasn’t anything dramatic.
It was the ability to connect with people.
To be gentle enough for people to approach, but strong enough to tell them the truth.
He said that the combination is rare.
Years ago, I probably would have rejected that compliment immediately.
I might have minimized it or deflected it.
But this time I simply acknowledged what he said and kept the conversation moving.
The moment wasn’t about proving anything.
It was just an honest exchange between two people.
When Explanations Get Shorter
That conversation reminded me of something I’ve noticed over time.
As people develop emotionally, something subtle begins to change.
They stop trying to make sure everyone agrees with their story.
They stop trying to manage how their decisions are interpreted.
And because of that, their explanations naturally become shorter.
Not because they care less about people.
But because they are no longer trying to control the narrative.
They simply tell the truth.
Boundaries Don’t Require Long Speeches
A boundary is not a performance.
It’s not a debate.
And it doesn’t require a long explanation.
A boundary is simply clarity about where you stand.
Sometimes people agree with that clarity.
Sometimes they don’t.
But the purpose of a boundary is not to create agreement.
The purpose is to live in alignment with what you know is right.
Strength and Gentleness
One thing Brandon pointed out stuck with me.
He said the ability to be both strong and gentle at the same time is rare.
But the truth is, those qualities are not opposites.
Real strength often shows up quietly.
It looks like honesty without aggression.
It looks like telling the truth without dominating the conversation.
It looks like being comfortable enough with who you are that you don’t feel the need to explain everything.
A Quiet Kind of Power
For many years, I believed confidence meant having the right explanation for everything.
Now I see it differently.
Confidence often looks much quieter than that.
It looks like being comfortable letting the truth stand on its own.
No defense.
No justification.
Just clarity.
And sometimes that clarity reveals something powerful—not just to the people around you, but to yourself as well.
Read more about boundaries at PsychologyToday.
Get your regulation baseline assessment here.
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