Ziezo, ik trek een streep in het zand. Tot hier en niet verder!' There are a bunch of sayings in Dutch that I love and that I often use. But this particular saying - it's the equivalent of setting a firm boundary and not allowing any room for negotiation - I never used once. I wondered why the Dutch believe a line in the sand is a firm boundary, when growing up at the beach taught me the concept of impermanence. Still, I thought about it, I fantasized about using it and I considered all the variations (een streep in het zand trekken, een lijn in het zand trekken, een grens in het zand trekken) I could use. But I actually never did.
Ziezo! In this context best translated as 'that's it!' The moment you resolve to no longer take it. The moment you decide that this is not what you want nor what you deserve. It might be a small thing, e.g. deciding to abandon a queue, because the thing at the end is no longer worth standing in line for. It might be a bigger deal, such as ending a friendship that is ok, but often makes you feel 'meh'. Or it might be a life changing event, such as escaping an abusive relationship or making a drastic career switch. I've experienced the whole spectrum and what I found, which come to think of it is inherent to a spectrum, is that these situations are all the same. This vague feeling in your gut that eventually moves up higher as a flutter in your chest to finally land very heavily as a burden on your shoulders. While this feeling mutates and grows, I usually compile a pros and cons list in my mind fueled by endless rumination. Until one day the burden is too heavy to carry and I resolve to drop it. Ziezo!
Ik trek een streep in het zand! This is the part where you actually draw the line in the sand. You generally have many options. Calmly draw a straight line with your colorful shovel. Or, if you came unprepared, you might choose any old stick that happened to come in with the tide, inevitably resulting in a wobbly line. In desperate times, you'll probably use your big toe for a short line and throw in a dramatic hands-on-hip pose to make up for it. However you happen to do it, at this stage it's clear to the opposing party that you really mean business this time. Likewise, I have been at this stage many many times before.
What usually happens next, is something I have not been able to grasp let alone master. My lines are sometimes met with a smile and an apology, often making me cross my own line over to the other side and start the whole cycle all over again. Other times, my lines are met with cruel laughter, making me shrink and allowing the other party to step over the line and walk all over me. Occasionally, my lines are met with a shrug and the other party turning on their heels and going the opposite way, leaving me feeling guilty or running after them. More often than not, my lines are not even acknowledged and disco-danced all over, leaving me feeling utterly deflated.
Months in therapy - to understand why I never graduate from drawing the line to someone actually respecting the line - taught me the words 'parentified child', identified my mother as the root cause and other people who were supposed to love me as accomplices. It also taught me another important concept. It's true that the line has two opposing sides and the option to dig in my heels, but it also has three other directions that are equally viable pathways. Left, right and soaring above it all. I experimented with all angles. I tried going left and right, with mixed results, because beyond the line the boundaries became blurry again and I eventually lost my way. I tried taking flight, but without shedding my burdens it was very difficult to get my feet off the ground. I dug in my heels and felt discouraged when the waves diligently erased the line where I was standing. I even joined in on the disco-dancing at some point, but couldn't quite catch the beat.
I was about to plunk down and just stare at the horizon, when my daughter drop-kicked her bestie in the face. My daughter made several attempts to end the friendship in the kindest way she possibly could, but her bestie would not accept. The conversation that followed with my daughter forced me to consider the basic question of when and how one is allowed to choose themselves above others. Then the question of boundaries came up in an interview with someone from a very rough neighborhood where people are murdered for small acts of disrespect: where do you draw the line? Next, during a work-related get together, a recent hire asked a bunch of us if we were even aware that we no longer had any real principles that we uphold at work. To top it off, multiple people made demands on my me-time (once a week on the Thursday afternoon): invitations for attending a lecture at work, a friend's birthday drinks and extra practice for the upcoming ballet show.
Tot hier en niet verder! It was bound to happen; the moment I would say 'enough, no more'. I always imagined a dramatic moment: loud with lots of flair. Instead, like so many things in life, that moment was nothing more than a whisper to myself followed by action: a polite text declining invitations, a tentative response to a job offer that has been sitting in my inbox for days, the decision not to medicate my daughter because she made a colossally bad judgement and enjoying the changing sky without any feelings of guilt or shame on a random Thursday afternoon.
Ik trek een streep eronder. I'm drawing the line.