Monday, 6 April 2026

​Strengthening your boundary



Boundaries are the foundation of our being. The healthier and stronger the boundaries, the quicker we can bounce back from life’s ups and downs. Trauma and a lack of boundaries go hand in hand; every trauma comes with the crossing of a boundary. This is obvious in any kind of abuse, also with car accidents or medical trauma, but a boundary injury can also happen in more subtle ways. Nothing on the outside may indicate that something is wrong—but we feel deep in our gut that our boundary has just been crossed.

Having no boundaries or too narrow ones means we're easily pulled into caretaker patterns, bending over backwards for others while neglecting our own needs. This is one of the most difficult patterns to shift as it is so woven into our early attachment system. We may then even feel bad when we do something healthy for ourselves, as we have learnt to abandon ourselves long ago to survive childhood. The guilt can be huge once we start becoming “selfish” in a healthy way. The trick is not to feed the guilt monster. Notice the bad feelings, but give them no weight. Instead, tell yourself: “This means I am going in the right direction!” And in the beginning, this might feel like you have just killed someone, well knowing that you haven’t. But that guilt implant can be huge. Learn not to keep feeding it, even though it may not be easy at first. This is an unhealthy guilt that needs to be ignored so it can shrink over time.

Some of us were not allowed to set our own boundaries, or they were drawn too tightly and too close to our bodies. A healthy boundary generally stretches as wide as you can spread your arms, 360 degrees around your body. Researchers found that a person’s microorganisms even spread out to about an arm's distance.

How does it feel to stretch your arms out wide and claim this space as yours? How is it when you move your arms closer to your body? When do you feel more relaxed? When do you contract? Do you collapse a bit, or is your spine stacked up straight? What friends allow you to have your own boundaries comfortably? In what situations does your boundary change all of a sudden?

Even when we generally have healthy boundaries, they can still be compromised. Shock is one of the biggest boundary breakers. It bursts through its banks with immediate effect, leaving us shattered, off guard, ungrounded and wobbly. Not quite ourselves—literally. It allows others into our space that we usually hold sacred.

This happened to me when a client texted me on a weekend that she didn’t want to live anymore, and then was inconsolable on the phone for over an hour. In the end, I had to call an ambulance and deal with a very unhelpful agency, which was the most stressful part for me. Reflecting now, that’s what threw me the most, not my client. The text had arrived while I was dancing and enjoying myself away from home. I was not prepared for it, did not have my professional boundaries in place, and then faced a very unkind and unnecessary secondary trauma from the agency. The shock went straight to my heart, and it took me days to fully come out of it. In fact, I only found my way out through a Somatic Experiencing supervision session.

And it was a powerful rebirth and embracing of my own boundary, which I wouldn’t have gotten to without this incident. Life sometimes throws you raw diamonds. Gifts that at first glance don’t feel like one.

In that session, I was rebuilding a new, much more stable boundary around me. I knew immediately that this was not a cognitive process, and it took me quickly to a very early nonverbal place—my embryo self in the womb. I visualised being back in my mother’s womb, where I had felt safe and held. Slow movements, drinking in the fluids, nourished by the umbilical cord, somersaulting with delicious joy. I felt safe, held, and loved. Inside and outside were clearly marked, so I could just be. I embodied this with all my senses, and something inside me shifted and healed.

Once I was born, things got muddled, my mother confused my light with hers, and I instinctively pulled back to protect myself from that invasion. So in the counselling session, I switched to a better resource: I visualised that straight after leaving my mother’s womb, I arrived in the loving hands of my aunty. She had always seen my light clearly and loved and supported it. She treated it like a precious seedling that needed watering, sunlight, and protection. And a big dose of unabashed utter delight.

We need caregivers who reflect back our own light and boundaries with joy. This is why we are herd animals —we can’t do this on our own—we need another human being (sometimes a pet or an imagined figure will do as well) to reflect who we are and what belongs to us. “This is my space! This belongs only to me!” And once I could so clearly feel my own space and light, my own boundary started to naturally grow and expand 360 degrees all around me. There is so much love for my own self when I am connected to this newfound boundary, and no one is allowed to cross it without my permission, especially no agency. There is a softness, but also a very strong, clearness.

Having our own light reflected back to us from babyhood onwards helps grow healthy boundaries. If it didn’t happen when we were little, we can do it now. It is never too late. Visualisation and therapy are powerful tools when you are met and in a safe social context. Having reflected back on your capabilities, your awesomeness, our feelings aligned and wholeness.

And the healthy resource might be something completely different for you. One client had to send her four-year-old self to the imaginary land of the comic Moomins to repair her boundary. Another client had to sit on the back of a horse to feel safe and protected. A domestic violence survivor needed a lion to walk on her side at all times. Visualised animals who don’t have an issue with setting boundaries can be perfect. A lot of the time, setting boundaries is difficult if someone has a problematic relationship with anger, so switching to an animal can be very helpful. Without healthy anger, setting boundaries is impossible, as your “No!” will be more of a “no?” that a lot of people won’t take seriously.

I’ve been witness to hundreds of different versions of boundary support. These found resources are unique, individualised, and completely different for every person; they are medicine. I love how different and new they are each time. They need to be just right. And once you have found your boundary-support visual, you can return to it over and over again. I will enter the womb experience before stressful events to better prepare myself. Before dealing with agencies, I will make sure my boundary light is on. And if I forget to do it, I can always come back to the womb experience later on and re-erect and strengthen my own boundary.

I was born into a family where worrying about others was the headline of everyday life. But worrying about another human being actually undermines their boundaries. It is so much healthier to see the other person’s light instead. To reflect back to them what they themselves may not see in a moment. I will have to retrain myself, get out of the worrying mode and into a “trusting the light mode” instead. Pressing the acupressure point spleen 4 on your foot can help tremendously, too.

My early womb experience, my best Kindergarten friend, my aunty, and my husband were people in my life who supported me in developing a relatively healthy boundary.  

But my own boundary needed upgrading. Just as that weekend incident showed. How is your boundary working for you?

 

With love

Barbara



Barbara Schmidt

Counselling Somatic

Trauma and nervous system recovery 

If you want to find out more about your nervous system and the incredible healing from trauma I am inviting you to read the short articles on www.counsellingsomatic.com.au in my blog section - you can subscribe to my newsletters via my website and receive all future blogs conveniently via email.
Feel free to forward my article to others, but please add my name to it for copyright reasons. You can also find me on my Facebook page “Counselling Somatic Barbara Schmidt"

 

 

Sunday, 22 February 2026

From freeze and fear to finding a home

I haven’t sent off any articles for a very long time now. I was in such a deep functional freeze that writing just didn’t flow. But I am now sharing my personal story in the hope it offers strength to those who walk this path. Because in the end, I did make it to the other side— a happy ending of sorts, a new beginning. This spiritual journey after great loss brings my indigenous friend Hazel back into the picture toward the end of this article. 

I had sold my piece of paradise about four years after my husband's death, trusting that the universe would show me the next step in my grieving and letting go journey. But the next step was sixteen months away, and I often wondered if I would ever find my way back home again.

Every day for these long months, I would wake up with fear by my side. A sense that I was trapped with no way forward, sideways, or backwards. Doomed. The doom was dunked in a dense, suffocating weight of shame.

After waking, I would spend the rest of my day trying to get rid of the doom. Religiously riding to the beach could not be skipped. Movement was my biggest weapon while being in a freeze for such a long time, while feeling the terror so close to my skin.

I still managed to make new friends and go freediving, and I had days of laughter and carefree fun while visiting Germany—but for over a year, the headline was one of fear, freeze, and feeling “homeless”.

I have so much compassion for people who are actually homeless. I had a roof over my head and still found the simplest of things difficult. Taking a shower was sometimes an effort, and cooking meals without having my own kitchen was the biggest stressor. I would go to the farmer’s market and buy fresh produce only for it to sit in my fridge. Feeding myself was packed with stress; it felt like trudging up a steep hill carrying a boulder. Some days I would cook myself a meal with ease; that’s when I knew I was having a good day, and the freeze was lifted for a little while. But it never fully left; it stayed put for all these months where hope seemed gone. Only glimpses on the far horizon. 

Friends said, that they envied me for my freedom. I could live anywhere on the planet! But I was completely overwhelmed and felt I did not belong anywhere. I missed the wild bush. “I hate…” was in my head as I dodged cars, noise, traffic lights, and exhaust on my push bike. I had moved to Fremantle with the romanticised idea of what it was twenty-five years ago, but the reality was a felt density that hit me hard: Big blocks had vanished, replaced by three or four houses without yards. Trees and beaches were gone. My nervous system was in constant overload, and I didn’t get to do any of the fun things cities offer. Not once did I jump on a train and go to an art gallery. 

I did look at houses on the market while the prices went up and up and up, finding a home was more and more out of reach. I looked in Shoalwater, back in Denmark, Bali, Broom, Exmouth, over east—I considered putting everything into storage and living in a van or travelling the world. I had to follow my instincts, and not knowing where to go was part of my journey. I trusted this inner knowing of my body and knew this was not a decision my mind could make. This is what I teach my clients. But when I started this journey, I never knew it would last for so long. 

I aimed to escape every morning and just rode to the beach. Every day, sometimes twice. I am such a homebody, but I never pottered at home; I stopped singing and did a hell of a lot of scrolling on my phone to numb myself, and only occasionally did I do qigong and yoga. The beach called me every morning. I loved the wide horizons, but the sand and water underlined the lack of trees. I longed for wild nature, for green. The disconnect made me feel so utterly, utterly lonely.

And city people are busy; you can’t just pop in for a visit. Their nervous systems are overloaded too, but they don’t notice it anymore. 

How desperately I tried to reach out to friends on Digby’s birthday. A day when no human should be alone unless they choose it. One ‘friend ’ said they could ring me in six hours, but when that call finally came, I was shamed and told I should do more therapy. I just needed an actual human being on my side. In the evening, I finally shared my leftover birthday cake with friends, and I knew I was okay. Humans are herd animals. Grieving needs to be witnessed by others, and some days it just needs company, laughter, lightness, and a cup of tea. 

I had days where the constant mantra in my head was “I don’t want to live. I don’t want to live any more”. It went round and round like a ferris wheel, turning without care. It’s the biggest turn-off for any friendship, so some days I would say nothing. I’d go for a walk with a friend, pushing their pram, grateful to not be alone while the wheel in my head kept turning.

Gratefulness. Another chapter I could write about for ages. When a person is in a deep freeze, gratefulness is out of reach. It’s not accessible. Spiritual bypassers would urge me to enjoy the small things, to lift my frequency. But on the doom-laden days, this was just not possible. I felt broken, damaged, lost, and covered in shame.

I still worked and saw clients. I was able to hold people as I had learnt to hold my own doom. I was capable and, surprisingly, really good at my job, connected to a higher source when working. Maybe I was whole and okay, and just walking through a really long and dark night of the soul? A spiritual journey of deep inner suffering that maybe one day would end? Maybe.

In the two weeks leading up to finding my new home, I was in the deepest of freezes.  The fear and terror were bigger than ever before after the New Year. I did not know what to do anymore, so I just imagined being greeted out of my mother’s womb by my beloved aunty. I visualised that she became my mother as soon as I was born. In my mind’s eye, I saw her holding me tight and just gazing at me with utter delight. She really saw me, and I could just relax and be. I did that over and over again and rested a lot while visiting Margaret River. That was where I finally found my new home. Visualisation is a potent, powerful medicine when it hits the sweet spot and nourishes the nervous system in just the right way.

And this story is really a continuation of my spiritual journey with Aboriginal Elder Hazel from Ningaloo. Some might remember that a huge manta ray at my local beach near Denmark, WA, had sent me travelling to Exmouth a year after my husband’s passing. My new spiritual totem animal led me in mysterious ways to Hazel’s doorstep near Coral Bay, a farm directly on the manta ray dreaming beach. Hazel gave me a manta ray brooch she had bought prior to my unplanned turning up. “I had wondered why I bought this brooch. I am a turtle woman. But now I know that I bought this for you two weeks ago”.

We connected over the years, and I loved her stories of spirit; they always made me feel at home. My husband saw spirits, and I missed having a person like that in my life. After Hazel’s husband passed, I camped at her house as the only white person attending an Aboriginal festival. Hazel had asked me to organise a road trip to Margaret River and Denmark in the New Year. As campervans were all booked out, I rang around until a practitioner friend offered me her home while she was away. When it was time to head off, I rang Hazel, only to find out that she never left Ningaloo and was still up north, not feeling too well herself. It was a big blow, but in the end, I just jumped into my car and drove down alone to this empty house in Margaret River. This turned out to be a blessing. I was feeling unsociable, I slept and rested a lot, read a book, watered the gardens. I felt at home for the first time in a very long time. This feeling of being at home followed me to the beach, where I remembered that a dear friend had sent me a house for sale a few months earlier. I didn’t have the energy to check it out back then, but when I received her email, I said out loud, “If this house is meant to be for me, it will wait.”

And there I was in Margaret River. The house had, of course, sold in these crazy market times, but the three-month settlement had fallen through at the last minute. The house had waited for me. I no longer own any land, but I have a home again. 

I am singing again, I am playing my drum and making up songs. I am able to write again in my home, and I have made this place the most beautiful home ever. I hope to build a new community of friends around me. It is my new place for now.

with love
Barbara 


If you want to find out more about your nervous system and the incredible healing from trauma I am inviting you to read the short article on www.counsellingsomatic.com.au in my blog section  - you can subscribe to my newsletters via my website and receive all future blogs conveniently via email. If you no longer wish to receive emails from me, please unsubscribe.

Feel free to forward my article to others, but please add my name to it for copyright reasons.     
You can also find me on my Facebook page “Counselling Somatic Barbara Schmidt" 


 
Barbara Schmidt
Counselling Somatic
Trauma & Nervous System Recovery Specialist
Mental Health Social Worker

Somatic Experiencing Practitioner, EMDR
m: 0458 234 410