A few years ago Amy and I were sharing funny stories about high school days.  We became friends in adulthood, actually through motherhood, so we didn’t share our teenage experiences.   While laughing at our choice in ex-boyfriends, crushes, and fashion, (Hello high waisted jeans…please go away for good) Amy mentioned that she always ended up talking to guys she wasn’t interested in because she didn’t want to hurt their feelings.  If I communicated only in Emojis, there would be the gal with her hand raised here.  Same.

Always.  My people pleasing ways had no boundaries.  Zero. None. Zilch.

If you haven’t met Amy, let me explain a few things to you.  Amy was the All-American girl, she will hate this whole paragraph, but it’s all true.  She is blonde, blue eyed, great athlete, cheerleader, good friend, Homecoming Queen, Buckaroo Queen, a Texas Tech Red Raider, a teacher…and later a great mom and good friend.  She is so beautiful that it’s stupid.  She and her daughter have these blue eyes that deserve to have a crayon named after them, only to be rivaled with their hearts and smiles.  Her facial expressions make me laugh harder than any other, especially in moments that I’m not supposed to.  So, can you even imagine being a teenage boy and NOT liking her?

Amy and I, It’s true that every brunette needs a blonde best friend.

Apparently, there were a couple of guys that were really vying for her attention, and put forth their best effort by pulling out their most impressive talents. Her doorbell rang a lot that year.

One ring brought a kid that wanted to show her his karate moves.  Amy politely watched and kindly told him how good he was. Another visit brought a boy who wanted her to listen to all the different languages he could speak.  The last straw came when the knock on the door produced a guy who came to show Amy that he could do the splits.  Then dropped down in them.  The splits.  Seriously.  Amy smiled, and again, most likely said all the right things to make him feel good about the talent he had brought forth.

But her dad had finally had enough.  He was shutting down all the home visits.  As Amy tells it, he hollered, “That’s it, this is CULL THE DWEEB day!  No more performances on the porch!”  He was done with all the Tom Foolery, and can you blame him?  There were boys risking hamstring injuries on his porch, and his daughter was too nice to simply not answer the door.  Her dad took over the job.

Cull the Dweeb Day.  If only we knew which exact calendar day it was, I’d petition for it to be a National Holiday, only maybe renamed “Cull the Crap Day”.

A few years ago, in a completely different life category, I had a Cull the Crap moment.  I was done being the person that others wanted or needed me to be.  So. Passed. Done.  I knew if I didn’t do something about it, my soul would drown.  (No one has ever accused me of being low on the dramatics scale.)  I had finally slowed down enough to feel it.  The loneliness. The sadness.  The drowning. The separation of self and spirit. It was as if the scales of “busy” had fallen from my eyes and the life I was living didn’t resemble anything that felt good, real, or true.  I had allowed others to make decisions I didn’t want to live with any longer. I basically had zero boundaries set up to teach others how to treat me, which allowed for disrespect and manipulation.  Please understand, I was just as guilty as any other party for the pattern of these relationships.  I had allowed the foundation to be laid the way it was, sacrificing the best parts of myself for some that didn’t care, and others that it would never be enough.

Here is the thing about drowning.  You just want to reach the surface to fill your lungs with enough air to breathe again.  There isn’t a map or under water navigation to the surface, you just have to look for the light and head towards it.  In efforts to breathe, my only decision was to face the light and honor my truth.   As much as I love list making, I didn’t sit down with pen and paper to decide who I would allow in my space and who had to go, I just focused on slowly becoming more myself every day.  Peace and joy were my guidance system.  More and more, when decisions or trouble would arise, I sent someone new to answer the door.  My true self, and not my representative.

This was new to some people, and they didn’t like it.  Change is not comfortable, especially when others didn’t choose it.  It didn’t work for some relationships and they decided to quit ringing the doorbell.  They weren’t comfortable with who was answering the door now.  Again, it wasn’t completely their fault, all they had known was the People Pleaser, and it worked for them.

The hardest thing about relationships is that they sometimes change or end before you are ready.  Sometimes they simply don’t want to walk down a path with you, and that is okay.  It’s also okay to walk the path meant for you.  Sometimes the most spiritual things we do are physical, like walking down a healthier path. It’s heartbreaking when this includes family, and sometimes just as sad when it’s friends.  Not every relationship is meant for a lifelong endurance.  When they are unhealthy and you are drowning, a Cull the Crap day is a good starting place.

Boundary Brooke is in charge of answering the door now.  Sometimes the old People Pleasing Representative will sneak to the front, and it never ends well.  Boundaries have to go up again, and shockingly, the circus on the porch gets tired and leaves.

Cull the Crap.  You can thank Amy’s sweet dad later.

• The scenery photos are courtesy of my talented friend, Gary Richardson.