Guest blog by: Katie Jay, MSW; Certified Life & Wellness Coach Recently I was perusing the Halloween candy aisle, doing calculations that have very little to do with math. Which candy could I sneak without doing too much damage? Which one would be least likely to set off cravings? How much could I get away with? Where would I hide it? And then there’s my diabetes. How much will this affect my blood sugar? Is it worth it? I can make quite a case for that candy if I want to. But lately I’ve been thinking about a different question: What do I want right now—and what am I giving up to get it? Right now, I want the chocolate. There’s nothing shameful about that. But I also want to feel good. I want to protect my health. I want freedom from the sneaking, hiding, negotiating, and starting over that food has brought into my life. And I want to trust myself. Maybe the candy is worth it today. Maybe it isn't. The important thing is recognizing that I’m making a trade. This question becomes even more useful as we move from Halloween into the holiday season. Because candy isn't the only thing that can tempt us to sacrifice what we want in the long run for what we want right now. Sometimes what I want right now is for you not to be upset with me. So I say yes when I want to say no. I agree to one more holiday commitment when I’m already exhausted. I keep quiet when someone comments on my body or what’s on my plate. I allow food in my home that makes taking care of myself much harder. I go along to avoid making a fuss. And in the moment, it works. You’re not upset. But what did I give up to get that? Maybe some peace. Maybe some energy. Maybe my ability to take care of myself. And, sometimes, a little of my self-respect and self-trust. My friend Lin has a wonderfully simple way of putting it: “If helping you is hurting me, it’s not okay.” That doesn't mean helping other people should never inconvenience us. Of course it does. We make sacrifices for people we love. We give our time and energy. We do things we would rather not do because someone we care about needs us. Sometimes the trade is absolutely worth it. The problem is when we don’t even realize we’re making one. And sometimes self-abandonment comes wearing a pretty convincing Halloween costume. Guilt can dress itself up as kindness. Fear of someone’s reaction can look like keeping the peace. People-pleasing can look an awful lot like generosity. For a long time, I thought boundaries were mostly about being brave enough to speak up. But speaking up is only part of it. Before I can protect myself, I have to believe that I am someone worth protecting. I have to understand that caring for myself is my responsibility. That can be especially important for those of us who have struggled with food. If I continually say yes when I mean no, swallow my anger, ignore my exhaustion, or take responsibility for everyone else’s feelings, those feelings don't simply disappear. For many of us, food has been very good at providing temporary relief. Then comes the disappointment. Maybe even shame. Not because eating a piece of candy makes us bad, or because saying yes when we wish we had said no makes us failures. The deeper disappointment comes from realizing, once again, that we didn't take care of ourselves. And if that happens often enough, what does it do to the way we see ourselves? What happens to my confidence when I repeatedly teach myself that keeping someone else happy matters more than my own well-being? What happens to my self-trust when what I want right now repeatedly wins over what I want for my life? That’s why I’ve come to see boundaries differently. A boundary isn't a wall. It isn't a punishment. And it isn't a way to control another person. It is one of the ways I take responsibility for my own well-being. As we head toward the holidays—with all the food, family, traditions, expectations, and emotions that can come with them—maybe we can practice asking ourselves one simple question: What do I want right now—and what am I giving up to get it? Sometimes the answer may be: Not much. This is worth it. Other times, we may realize the price is higher than we thought. My health. My peace. My self-respect. My trust in myself. My future well-being. And those are things worth protecting.