My therapist says I need to work on boundaries.
"Okay," I say, "Is there some kind of book I can get for that?"
Always the eager student I seek instruction manuals, detailed directives that will take me directly to where I want to go.
"Yes." She says in her even, soothing tone, "There is a book called Boundaries."
My mother is like that. The most selfless person that I know.
A week later the package from Amazon arrives in the mail and after opening the protective mailer, out tumbles the smallest book I have ever seen.
We laugh until we cry about the tiny book. We joke that she didn't want me to be overwhelmed, so she got me "little Boundaries."
My mother is like this too. From the school of "laughter is the best medicine," finding humor in every situation. She doesn't dwell on hurt or anger, life is too short. She moves on to the funny. That is where she finds her healing. And so will I.
I haven't even attempted to read the book, I don't know if I need to. Knowing that my mom supports me in my journey to cure what ails me is powerful enough.