A boundary hangover refers to the wave of anxiety, guilt, and dread that can follow setting a boundary and is an extremely painful experience that can even be compared to a panic attack: the heart is racing, the hands are cold, and there is a feeling of being on the verge of dying. It is very difficult to endure, and people start making excuses, which destroys their ability to negotiate and undermines their credibility in the eyes of their partner.
It’s hard to defend and keep our own boundaries, but sometimes the greater difficulty for clients is coping with the feelings that come afterwards. It might feel like even when you state your boundary calmly and to the point, you feel overwhelmed by a sense of dread and catastrophe. Afterward, there may be a desire to add a mitigating explanation or even to apologise. Panic doesn’t set in immediately, but rather after a couple of hours, and usually occurs suddenly when the person is finally alone.
I have learned in my therapy practice to identify the reasons for boundary hangovers. They are not related to low self-esteem, but to the anticipation of symbolic punishment for self-expression. In essence, it’s a prohibition on the right to exist. A person takes a reasonable step, voices their own discomfort, and makes suggestions for improving the situation, but then falls into a state of disaster because they feel as if they have ruined the relationship.
Most people with this syndrome have experienced severe trauma in childhood. When a child grows up in chaos and pain, their psyche is unable to “unite” the perception of their parent as both “good” and “not perfect enough” – someone who both loves and sometimes naturally expresses anger. A mature psyche is capable of treating others as ordinary people who have the right to make mistakes (this does not refer to truly violent or extreme individuals who engage in inappropriate behaviour).
A split psyche sees a partner as either “perfect” or “terrible.” As a result, such people tend to get stuck in abusive relationships, ignoring the violence, and then suddenly exploding and breaking off the relationship when faced with even the slightest issue in normal communication, as if nothing good ever happened. The same applies to their self-perception: they either see themselves as “perfect” or “utterly worthless.” A key factor here is the inability to regulate aggression – which is always a normal reaction to a situation. Aggression, as a companion of life from birth (any active action is a healthy act of aggression), is either suppressed or overflowing.
When such a person tells their partner about their discomfort with certain aspects of the interaction, they initially act from their “adult side.” This message may sound quite measured. However, after an hour or two, the traumatised side emerges, experiencing the situation as a failure. The “I-am-mature-and-good” part is replaced by the “I-am-terrible” part, and the partner is perceived as a “monster.” This leads to a fear that the “monster” will destroy and devour. The fear is so intense that the person tries to smooth things over by providing numerous explanations, which only deepens the fixation on the feeling of disaster.
Such people are extremely sensitive to any opportunity to be “visible,” which they equate with “attack” and “vital competition.” As a result, it is difficult to simply express discomfort. Instead of saying “I feel uncomfortable,” they send a message like “you’re horrible.” Traumatised people are aware of this, and after a couple of hours they start to feel destructive and try to walk back the situation and show that they are not dangerous. A child who grows up in a battle environment subconsciously believes that they created this chaos. When they express themselves, the mechanism breaks free and creates a vicious cycle of patience, frustration, anxiety about losing the relationship, and then patience again. In a therapeutic setting, it can be challenging for such individuals to express simple things – such as displeasure with a therapist’s lateness or an interpretation. The intensity of their criticism may be disproportionate to the actual issue. It is therefore extremely important to show empathy for any attempts by such individuals to express dissatisfaction: not to argue or explain, but to accept, support, and apologise for any mistakes. This helps, over time, to move out of splitting into more mature functioning and to gain the missing experience of not being punished for self-expression.
Another reason is the “good child” syndrome, where the family environment has in some way suppressed the child’s true personality and forced them to adapt to a facade of “correctness” acceptable to the parents. This typically happens with sensitive, non-temperamental children who find it very difficult to stand up for themselves. An important characteristic of such families is emotional emptiness in the relationship with the parents. The child is loved and cared for, but their personality is set aside, because adults – not wishing to cause harm, but limited by their own characteristics – simply cannot “see” the child’s inner depth. There is no attention to their personality, no questions like “What’s going on with you?” or “How was your day?”, and no simple mirroring of emotions. This emptiness is experienced as “I don’t exist,” and any expression of personality or emotion is experienced as “wrong” when ignored by parents. But a child needs relationship. And the best way to “survive” is to suppress everything happening inside through the formation of a “correct” self-image — one that is acceptable to others.
Such people can be very easy to be around: they speak carefully and empathically, fit well into any group, and behave intelligently and agreeably. But form is not equal to content, and internally the person is in a state of deep, suppressed panic. Any expression of negative emotion, desire, or impulse is perceived as a sign of “pathology” – labelled as “wrong.” Communication is typically based on passive-aggressive resistance, but everything appears smooth from the outside. Speaking bluntly is, for such a person, genuinely experienced as a kind of death. If they find the resource to set a boundary, they will spend a long time painfully blaming themselves for having committed a disgraceful, unacceptable act – and will most likely take it back.
The main difficulty with such clients lies in their unconscious resistance to real change. They integrate well into the therapeutic process and unconsciously create a sense of connection and progress for the therapist, but in practice this soft adjustment is a defence against self-expression and genuine recognition of their own personality. The main goal in working with these clients is therefore to help them tolerate their intense desire to resist reality and remain in a comfortable shell that protects them from a real encounter with themselves.
A particular group among those prone to “boundary hangovers” are sensual, playful dreamers who grew up with narcissistic parents. Such a child is open, emotional, and very natural from birth. They notice details, often enter the world of fantasy and play – a small artist who runs happily toward relationship with their parents. When narcissistic devaluation meets them instead, without any attempt to understand their feelings, withdrawal into a parallel inner world forms as a defensive reaction. Direct contact becomes synonymous with humiliation.
Such people play with their emotions, construct defensive explanations for things they dislike, and hold onto a belief that they are surrounded by special people, in unique relationships, loved and admired by everyone. It is an unconscious way of managing the childhood experience of humiliation in front of a cold, arrogant parent who judges rather than engages. Such a person will not be able to speak directly about their discomfort, but will masterfully construct elaborate scenarios in which the relationship appears to be saved, while in reality a strange distance is established. For most of these individuals, it is extremely difficult to identify the reality of their experiences: naming discomfort would mean acknowledging it, which is experienced as shameful and unbearable. This is no longer an attraction or a unique relationship – it is real pain, which simply should not be there.
Such people typically find it hard to be alone with themselves. They are constantly communicating, constantly moving, in effect escaping the anxiety of simply “being.” In therapy, conversations jump from topic to topic, and when the focus turns to what is happening “between us,” the person either moves toward something playful or simply freezes and shuts down. Speaking directly is extremely difficult for them, so thoughts and feelings are wrapped in a playful manner of presentation. But if they manage to find the resource to express themselves directly, backlash is almost inevitable. It takes considerable time to help such clients learn to tolerate the anxiety that comes with direct and honest self-expression.
Boundary hangovers are a difficult and painful experience. However it’s one that, over time, can be worked through, allowing a person to arrive at a genuine sense of the right to their own dignity.
