When “firm limits” become socially acceptable ways to withdraw from dysregulated people
Trigger warning: I’m making some assumptions about what’s going on inside others’ heads.
If you were walking your dog and saw someone fall off their bike and get hurt, what would you do?
Most people, I believe, would go over, help them up, and at least guide them to the sidewalk. It’s just the kind and “right” thing to do.
I have deep respect for therapists who sit with people in pain. It is an honor to witness someone’s most vulnerable moments. But this work is heavy. Therapist burnout is real. Holding space for dysregulation, trauma, and intensity day after day takes something from you.
And yet, I keep coming back to this question:
Why do we respond so differently when the fall is emotional?
When someone is overwhelmed, melting down, dysregulated, or spiraling, people are quicker to withdraw than to help. Instead of a hand, they get distance. Instead of curiosity, they get boundaries.
When Healthy Boundaries Become Walls
There is absolutely a place for healthy boundaries. I am not arguing against them. I am questioning how quickly we reach for them — and what part of us is leading when we do.
Some nervous systems are wired more sensitively. ADHD can bring rejection sensitivity. Autism can mean sensory overload and meltdowns. People diagnosed with borderline personality disorder often carry intense fears of abandonment rooted in trauma. When these nervous systems become overwhelmed, their reactions are bigger, faster, louder.
And too often, they are labeled “difficult.”
The stigma around certain diagnoses — especially borderline personality disorder — has created what feels like a modern-day scarlet letter. Research has documented particularly negative attitudes toward people diagnosed with BPD among mental health professionals(Dickens et al., 2022).I have heard therapists describe “those clients” with visible tension. Eye rolls. Immediate referrals.
But I wonder: how much of what feels difficult is actually dysregulation meeting dysregulation?
Emotional Dysregulation Is Not the Same as Manipulation
When someone fears abandonment or rejection and we respond with firm limits from a place of self-protection, their nervous system doesn’t interpret that as professionalism. It interprets it as confirmation.
See? You are too much.
Sometimes what looks like manipulation is desperation.
Sometimes what looks like resistance is terror.
Sometimes what looks like defiance is a nervous system begging for safety.
Recently, I worked on my book from 7 a.m. to 6 p.m. My executive functioning challenges turned what should have been a simple editing task into cognitive chaos. My brain felt like it was going to explode. I started shaking. I whispered, “It’s too much.”
My husband came and sat with me for five minutes. He didn’t fix it. He didn’t analyze it. He didn’t lecture me about coping skills.
He stayed.
And my nervous system settled.
That’s it. Five minutes. A small act of kindness.
When Dysregulation Meets Dysregulation
Years ago, at a retreat with other therapists, I had what I now understand as a mask-to-meltdown moment. I was overstimulated, trying desperately to be appropriate, to not talk too much, to not be too hyper, too intense, too much.
By the end of the day, I crashed. I went back to my cabin shaking and crying. A young part of me wanted someone to check on me. Just five minutes. A hand on my back. A signal that I wasn’t alone.
No one came.
Later, I acted out. I was dysregulated and hurt. My actions had consequences. But what lingered wasn’t the consequences — it was the feeling of being misunderstood.
Eventually, I was banned from future retreats. Firm boundaries were put in place. Professional distance. Ethical clarity.
And I still wonder: what would have happened if someone had simply paused and gotten curious?
What part of me made them feel unsafe?
What was activated in them?
Where did protection replace presence?
I understand the need for clinician self-protection. I understand ethics. I understand burnout.
But I also know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of part-led boundaries — the kind that are less about clarity and more about fear.
Boundaries can be healthy.
They can also be walls.
There is a difference between protecting yourself and withdrawing from someone because their intensity activates something in you.
Curiosity Before Withdrawal
When someone is dysregulated — whether from ADHD, autism, trauma, anxiety, or a BPD diagnosis — their nervous system is in survival mode. Often, they are not calculating how to manipulate you. They are trying not to drown.
Helping someone off the road and onto the sidewalk does not mean carrying them home. It means acknowledging the fall.
Sometimes the most therapeutic thing we can do is not escalate to protocol.
Sometimes the most therapeutic thing we can do — within appropriate clinical boundaries — is stay present.
Not forever. Not at our own expense. But long enough for their system to feel seen.
I am not anti-boundary. I am anti-withdrawal disguised as professionalism.
If something isn’t working, let’s talk about it. Collaboratively. Curiously. Without assuming we already know what’s happening inside someone else.
Because when we lead with curiosity instead of control, protector parts soften. Intensity settles. And the very behaviors we were bracing against often calm on their own.
What if we stopped working against people and started working with them?
What if we asked more questions before reaching for rigid rules?
What if, when someone emotionally falls in the middle of the road, we helped them to the side before deciding whether they deserved to be there?
Sometimes the Intervention Is Presence
I’m calling for a shift — in therapy rooms, in hospitals, in schools, in relationships.
Be curious.
Be kind.
And notice when boundaries are coming from fear instead of clarity.
Sometimes the most powerful intervention
is five minutes of presence.
If this resonated with you, my book Misunderstood goes deeper into these experiences — especially around misdiagnosis, stigma, and being labeled “too much.”
If you’re looking for neurodivergent-affirming therapy or therapist consultation grounded in curiosity and IFS, you can learn more about my work here.
