Self-Leadership in the Let Them Era

Boundaries sound so clean in theory. Draw a line. Say no. Protect your energy. End scene.

In real life, at least in mine, boundaries show up more quietly. The moments where a familiar knot of frustration appears, and I realize I’m reacting to the same pattern again. Not because someone crossed a line, but because I never clearly set one in the first place. Apparently, this is one of those foundational life skills I somehow skipped over.

For a long time, I didn’t think I had a boundary problem. I wasn’t being mistreated; I wasn’t surrounded by difficult people, nor was anyone taking advantage of me. That narrative felt too dramatic, and honestly, it didn’t fit, but it was how I clearly operated apparently. What fit better, once I slowed down enough to actually look at it, was this: I was over-functioning in silence.

This pivot has given me something I didn’t realize I needed so badly: space.

Space to stop running, stop reacting, and finally notice the smaller things that have quietly shaped how I move through the world. Not the big, obvious fractures. The subtle ones. The habits that felt productive, generous, even admirable… until they weren’t.

I was the one overextending. I was the one filling in the gaps. I was the one assuming, anticipating, smoothing, adjusting, and quietly keeping score. And then feeling hurt when others didn’t reciprocate, didn’t read my mind, didn’t magically intuit what I needed without me saying a word.

How dare they! Don’t they know me better than that? Not because they were wrong, but because I expected them to operate the way I do.

That one took a minute to land and once I my heart rate came back down, I had to sit in it.

Somewhere between therapy, too much (over) thinking, and reading Mel Robbins’ Let Them, it finally clicked: I wasn’t lacking boundaries. I was ignoring them. Worse, I was the biggest abuser of my own generosity. I gave freely, without pause, then felt resentful when the return didn’t match the effort. Ouch, that one stung.

The Let Them idea isn’t groundbreaking. It’s almost annoyingly obvious. Let people be who they are. Stop trying to manage outcomes. Stop contorting yourself so everyone else stays comfortable. But timing matters, and I needed to hear it now. In this pivot. In this season where I’m no longer distracting myself with constant motion.

Professionally, I’ve started applying it with more confidence. Knowing my value. Naming my worth. Setting terms without the fear that being clear means being difficult or losing the opportunity altogether. For a long time, fear drove that part of me. If I was too firm, would I lose the job? The contract? The seat at the table? Men never seem to ask themselves these questions, do they? Women, on the other hand, carry them like a background app that never fully shuts off.

Personally, it’s been more confronting. Accepting that some people won’t show up the way I would. That some relationships naturally shift, soften, or stay surface-level (more on friendships to come in another blog). And that none of this is a personal failure or something to control. They show you who they are. Let them. And then comes the harder part: let me decide what I do with that information.

This is what self-leadership looks like for me right now. Not issuing ultimatums, not burning bridges, or withdrawing from life or relationships. I’m just choosing to stop managing everyone else’s experience at the expense of my own.

This pivot isn’t only about what I’m building next. It’s about unlearning the patterns that kept me tired, quietly resentful, and perpetually disappointed. It’s about realizing that clarity doesn’t come from over-giving or over-explaining. It comes from acceptance, agency, and from letting go of the idea that if I just do a little more, everything will finally feel balanced.

Turns out, the work isn’t becoming harder. It’s becoming more honest…and I’m okay with that.