by Lara Just, May 2025.
Learning to Trust the Body’s Truth and Hold a Boundary with Grace.
In this post I look at my personal reflections focusing on boundary-setting, inner truth, emotional clarity, and the contrast between manipulation and flow. Recently, I found myself in a difficult situation that looked simple on the surface — a favour, a small commitment — but gradually became more complex and revealed deeper layers. What unfolded showed me, in real time, the difference between flow and force — and the freedom that comes when we trust the body’s quiet wisdom over external pressure.
The Test: A Subtle Kind of Manipulation
It started with a simple offer to help — a housesit for someone that was in a pinch. Clear terms, a start and end date. But once I stepped into the space, the edges of the arrangement began to blur. New expectations were slipped in. My role quietly shifted. Emotional pressure replaced mutuality.
When I attempted to clarify or gently push back, I wasn’t met with direct aggression — but with something slipperier. Deflection. Guilt. Shifting expectations, vague messages, and emotional pressure disguised as understanding, gratitude or confusion. Messages that evoked things like:
- “I thought you’d already said yes.”
- “I wouldn’t ask if I had other options.”
- “You’re the only one I can really rely on.”
It wasn’t a conversation; it was a slow erosion of choice. A pattern emerged — not true collaboration, but control cloaked in vulnerability, need.
And yet… my body knew.
Where I Once Collapsed, I Now Stood
In the past, I might have absorbed that discomfort and made excuses — for them, for the situation, even for my own reactions. I would have twisted myself into something more accommodating, overriding the quiet internal signals telling me that something wasn’t right.
But this time, I paused. I breathed. I got still. And I listened — not to the noise of obligation or the pressure to be liked, but to the unmistakable feedback of my own body.
Tight chest. Solar Plexus tension. Elevated heart rate. Loss of focus. Disrupted sleep. Racing thoughts. A sense of being subtly trapped, emotionally obligated, out of alignment. I felt this with every new interaction. That is information. That is truth.
This wasn’t just anxiety or overthinking. This was clarity — not loud, but steady.
Force is the Old Story — Flow is the New Path
Here’s what I’ve learned through this experience:
Force says: keep giving, even when it costs you peace.
Force says: don’t upset anyone, don’t walk away, don’t draw the line.
Force comes from fear, of rejection and conflict often applied through pressure, urgency
Force can be masked itself as “helping,” but it often erases your choice.
It feels like bracing, flinching, contracting.
Flow, by contrast, is honest. It doesn’t rush or smooth over.
Flow respects mutuality. It doesn’t abandon clarity.
Flow is rooted in calm and listens to the body before listening to guilt.
It feels like relief, expansion, openness, groundedness.
Flow is where boundaries live — not as hard walls, but as clear waters. And in this situation, I chose flow. I didn’t explode or blame. I didn’t need to explain myself into exhaustion. I simply honoured it and ended the arrangement. I didn’t need to prove I was right. I just needed to choose peace.
The Body’s Truth Is Quiet — But Unshakable
The more I listened inward, the louder the truth became. Every time I entertained bending my boundary, my nervous system pushed back: anxiety, tension, resentment. Every time I honoured my own line, I felt more whole, expanded, rooted, more alive.
That’s when I understood — the body is always telling the truth. Not in abstract concepts, but in very real, physical signals. When something is off, the body whispers, then it tightens, then it yells.
This time, I didn’t wait until I was in burnout. I caught it early. I trusted the whisper.
I trusted the whisper and the knowing: this isn’t aligned anymore.
That’s the kind of power no one can take from you. It’s not reactive. It’s rooted. It doesn’t need to justify or explain itself endlessly.
Lessons from the Threshold
This wasn’t just about a misaligned favour. It was a threshold moment. A crossing from old programming — people-pleasing, shape-shifting, self-erasure — into something far steadier: self-trust.
I learned:
- I don’t need a dramatic reason to step away.
- I can honour discomfort as truth, not a problem to fix.
- I can disappoint someone and still be deeply kind.
- I am not responsible for managing another adult’s reactions.
- My body will never lie to me, even when my mind is tangled.
These aren’t small lessons. They’re hard-won. They require courage, especially when the manipulation is subtle and comes from someone who sees themselves as vulnerable or well-meaning.
But emotional pressure — even when soft — is still pressure. And clarity is still kindness, even when it’s not received that way.
If You’re Reading This and Nodding…
Maybe you’ve felt this too. The flinch. The squeeze in your chest when a boundary is crossed in slow motion. The guilt that rises when you try to hold your line. The confusion that sets in when your generosity is met with expectation instead of appreciation.
Let this be your reminder: you’re not imagining it. Your discomfort is not a flaw. It’s a signal. And you’re allowed to listen.
You can end the interaction. You can stop explaining. You can choose peace, even if someone else calls it selfish. Especially then.
Because when you begin to honour the wisdom of your own body, everything changes. You move from force to flow. From flinching to expansion – rootedness. From hypervigilance to ease.
And the test? You pass it not by winning the argument, but by walking away with your integrity intact. Which can regain your peace.
Journal Prompt (optional):
- Where in my life am I still choosing force over flow?
- What might shift if I trusted my body as deeply as I trust my logic?