When Pressure Builds, Volcanoes Erupt—And Boundaries Are Born

There’s a truth I’ve come to live by—one I wish I had understood long before life forced it out of me:

Boundaries aren’t walls. They are bridges to self-respect.

As a child, I was raised to be agreeable. Polite. Accommodating.

I was the “nice girl”—the one who swallowed pain behind a practiced smile, who said “yes” when her soul screamed “no,” who stayed silent to avoid conflict.

On the outside, I looked calm. Composed. Kind.

But inside?

I was wilting.

Exhausted from the weight of pleasing others while betraying myself.

What I didn’t know then was this:

Self-sacrifice in the name of politeness is not kindness. It is self-abandonment.

In my world, boundaries weren’t taught.We didn’t learn how to protect our energy, how to say no without apology, how to stand firm when lines were crossed.

So I didn’t.

I let things go. Again and again.

Until one day… I had nothing left to let go of.

No voice. No line. No protection.

And then it happened.

I erupted. Like a volcano.

Lava-hot. Uncontainable. Long overdue.

It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t fair to my children who witnessed the aftershock.

But it was real.

And in that messy eruption, I discovered something life-altering:

Boundaries aren’t born in peace. They are born in fire.

That moment I realized:

Boundaries aren’t about being cold—they’re about being clear.

They’re not about rejection—they’re about protection.

They are not acts of cruelty—they are acts of courage.

Without them, we become shapeshifters—moulding ourselves to fit others’ comfort while eroding our own truth.

We smile when we want to cry. We agree when we want to walk away.Until the pressure builds so high, the only thing left is eruption.

But here's the beautiful thing about eruptions—they reshape landscapes.

Now, when something doesn’t sit right, I don’t ignore it.

I pause.

I breathe.

I speak—with calm clarity, not rage.

Because "No" is a full sentence.

Because peace isn’t given—it’s claimed.

Because protecting my energy isn’t selfish—it’s sacred.

And this is what I’m teaching my children:

That boundaries are an act of love—not just for others, but for ourselves.

That we get to decide what enters our space and what must stay outside it.

That knowing our limits isn’t weakness—it’s wisdom.

There are people who will not like your boundaries. That’s okay. They don’t have to.

Your job is not to shrink yourself to fit into anyone’s comfort zone.

Your job is to rise—firm, grounded, and whole.

Because the girl who once stayed silent to keep the peace?

She’s found her voice.And she’s no longer afraid to use it. She’s no longer a flicker in someone else’s shadow.

She is the fire. The mountain. The aftershock.

And she has learned to erupt with purpose—not to destroy, but to reshape the landscape of her life.

And from that mountain, she sees clearly now:

Peace was never in the pretending.

It was always in the claiming.

Eruptive Force

"I endured in silence, but now I break free to succeed—courageously, with purpose." — Faiza Chaudhary