Why Good Boundaries Make Deeper Love Possible

A reflection by Yuna

There was a time I thought love meant letting people in, fully, without pause.

Especially those who were unraveling.

Those in the middle of heartbreak or some private war.

I held space like it was oxygen.

I saw their potential and mistook it for presence.

I thought, if I love them well enough, they’ll heal.

They didn’t always.

Instead, I often found myself sitting in rooms where silence was heavy, where I was listening more than living.

Where my energy bent around their pain until I couldn’t find my own edges.

I called it love.

But what it really was…was a slow forgetting of myself.

Eventually, I left. Not out of anger, but necessity.

I moved to the desert. Joshua Tree.

A strange place where time folds, and the air feels ancient.

I spent long hours alone, doing breathwork, pouring tea, listening to the sound of my own heartbeat in the morning stillness.

I worked on myself like it was my only job.

No more rescuing. No more proving. Just breath and silence, and presence.

There, I began to understand something simple but real:

Boundaries aren’t walls. They’re invitations.

They don’t say go away.

They say come closer, but come clean. Come honest. Come able to meet me where I am.

My Tea Collection!

I used to think boundaries would push people away.

But the truth is, they reveal who’s able to stay.

Not out of need, but out of resonance.

Now, love feels different.

It’s slower. Softer.

It knocks gently, waits to be welcomed.

There’s no more flooding. No more fixing. Just two whole people choosing to meet, and to keep meeting.

And strangely, this kind of love is deeper.

Because there’s space to tell the truth.

To be held without being hollowed out.

Good boundaries make deeper love possible

Not because they keep others out,

But because they make room for both of you to stay in.

If a part of you is tired of disappearing into others,

if you long for a connection that doesn’t cost you your breath, you’re not alone.

There’s a quiet space here.

A cup of tea, a deep inhale, a pause long enough to hear your own voice again.

You’re welcome to join me.

No fixing. No rushing. Just presence.

Just come when you're ready.

I’ll be here. Like the desert. Still, but listening.