Reclaiming My Authority: Healing, Boundaries, and Starting the Year Aligned

Happy Monday, Everyone 🌿
A Life Update on Boundaries, Healing, and Reclaiming Authority

It’s been about two weeks since my last life update, and I started both the month and the year on a strong note. For the first time, I was able to complete my cinnamon ritual—something small, but symbolically powerful. It set the tone for intention, grounding, and reclaiming agency.

I expected last week to move smoothly. Tuesday was supposed to be my psych and therapy appointment day. Instead, the week took an unexpected turn when Dad and I both came down with what we later realized was a viral stomach bug likely picked up during the holidays. At first, we thought it was food-related, but as symptoms spread and timelines lined up, it became clear it was something viral. Dad got hit much harder than I did, while mine stayed mostly gastrointestinal—but either way, it knocked us both off our feet and threw off the rhythm of the week.

When “Help” Comes with Strings Attached

By Wednesday, I was back out to lunch with family like we usually do. That’s when things became emotionally charged. My uncle mentioned seeing my grandma’s Facebook post asking for help cleaning a friend’s house, and the conversation took a turn I wasn’t prepared for.

My grandma proudly announced that her grandson “wouldn’t let her down” and that the job would cost $40 a week—$20 for me and $20 for feeding me afterward. That pay rate might make sense for occasional help, but this wasn’t occasional work. When I asked her to clarify what the job actually involved, the scope expanded significantly. I told her clearly: if she couldn’t find anyone else, I could help—but we would discuss my cost later.

Instead, assumptions were made.

In that moment, my autonomy, my time, and my worth were brushed aside. She assumed I wouldn’t drive myself, wouldn’t use my own equipment, and wouldn’t want independence. That crossed boundaries on multiple levels. When the time comes, there will be a rude awakening—not out of spite, but out of self-respect. I know my worth. If my cost isn’t acceptable, then the job simply isn’t mine.

Solving a Problem I’d Been Fighting for Years

Thursday became a turning point in more ways than one. For the past two years, every attempt to clean my space ended in frustration because my parents’ vacuum constantly clogged. Every time I tried to start fresh, I hit the same wall.

So this year, I decided to solve the problem myself. I ordered a new vacuum—one that actually works.

If I ever do end up helping my grandma, at least I’ll be using reliable equipment. Their vacuums are outdated and ineffective, and I can’t help but notice how often older generations hold onto broken systems simply because they technically still work. But “working” isn’t the same as working well. Dad, especially, will fix things endlessly instead of replacing them, and while I understand the mindset, it’s exhausting.

(And yes—if this new vacuum clogs, I will throw it out the door. 😂)

Choosing Rest Without Guilt

Because I was sick, last week became about recovery. Exercise can always restart. Rest doesn’t erase progress—it supports it.

That same Thursday, I made another important decision: stepping away from therapy.

When I entered this health network, I was told therapy was mandatory for medication management. Over time, it became clear that while CBT and ACT had helped me in the past, my current therapist wasn’t helping me navigate toxic family dynamics. Most of my trauma healing has been self-directed—applying those same therapeutic principles where therapy itself wouldn’t go.

I emailed my therapist to clarify what was required. He responded quickly: therapy is not mandatory. I could continue medication management without it. For now, I chose to be discharged. If I need services again, I’ll seek them intentionally—not out of obligation.

That email closed a chapter.

Reclaiming Authority—Fully

Later that day, my grandma casually mentioned that her friend wasn’t willing to pay $190 for a nearby cleaning agency. That told me everything I needed to know.

After supper, I sent a calm, direct message: if an agency is out of his price range, then so am I.

When I stated my monthly rate—$300—she asked about weekly pricing. I told her $75 per week, and she acknowledged that my pricing wasn’t unreasonable. This wasn’t just about money. If the pay isn’t right, the effort, commitment, and sustainability disappear. I’m not desperate, and I refuse to undervalue myself.

That same day, I reclaimed my authority on multiple fronts. My nervous system finally exhaled.

Healing Isn’t Linear—and That’s Okay

I’ve also started revisiting Facebook memories with a specific goal: recovering old notes from when Facebook still supported them. Some of what I’ve found comes from a deeply wounded version of myself—especially posts about how my mom claimed to want her children living at home while enforcing rigid, adolescent-era rules rooted in morality and control.

While those memories still sting, they no longer trigger me the same way. Growth has happened on both sides. Respect has improved. Priorities have shifted.

By Friday, I was feeling better physically—and with my new vacuum, I spent two full hours deep-cleaning my room. Thankfully, my vacuum didn’t clog up this time! I was sore afterward, but my space felt lighter, cleaner, and aligned. I also removed my 5 a.m. alarm and decided to let my body re-teach me its natural rhythm instead of forcing one.

For now, I’m collecting data, listening inward, and letting rest be part of progress.

The weekend ended in peace—and honestly, I’m excited to see how this week unfolds.