When You Set a Boundary — You Might Be Heartbroken, Too
We often talk about how hard it is to set boundaries. How it feels selfish, how we worry about hurting others, how guilt churns inside us.
But one truth we rarely name is this: the person creating those boundaries can also be deeply heartbroken.
By “heartbroken,” I don’t just mean guilt or shame or regret. I mean mourning — for what was, what felt possible, and what will now shift. When you protect yourself, you may also lose intimacy, closeness, and hope in certain ways. That loss matters.
In Galway, across Ireland’s West, and in my personal development courses and coaching work, I’ve seen how boundary heartbreak shows up again and again. Here’s what I’ve learned — and how you can care for your own heart as you reclaim your well-being.
Why boundary heartbreak happens
Boundary-setting isn’t always obvious or dramatic. Sometimes it looks like:
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Pulling back your time and energy
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Saying “no” to requests you once said yes to
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Reducing emotional availability
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Distancing yourself from patterns that drain you
Even when those boundaries are necessary, they can feel like a loss. Why?
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You’re letting go of idealised futures with people
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You’re giving up the closeness you once had
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You’re admitting that connection in its current form didn’t meet your needs
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You’re likely to face misunderstanding, pushback, or resistance
In coaching with clients across the West of Ireland, I often hear: “I feel like I’m the bad one now.” “They think I don’t love them.” “It hurts because I do love them.” The heartbreak isn’t optional; it’s part of the territory.
Two parts inside you — one wants protection, one wants connection
When you set boundaries, it’s common to feel torn. One part of you knows: this boundary is essential to your health, your energy, your peace. Another part — the one that longs for closeness — feels grief, fear, guilt.
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The protective part says: “I need space so I don’t lose myself.”
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The longing part says: “But I want us back, I miss what we had.”
These parts fight. They tug you in different directions. Your inner world becomes a place of paradox: I need safety, and I also yearn for intimacy. You don’t have to erase one side to honour the other.
In my personal development work in Galway and beyond, I often guide people to dialogue with both parts. Let the grief speak. Let the strength stand firm. Let the tears and the courage coexist.
How to tend your heartbreak (while still holding your boundary)
You deserve care — especially while you’re navigating this painful space. Here are practices that help:
1. Name and hold your pain
Write a letter to the part of you that’s hurting. Let it say all it’s felt: abandonment, loss, longing. Let it grieve. You don’t override this pain with logic — you honour it.
2. Witness the boundary’s necessity
List all the reasons you needed this boundary. Without shame. It doesn’t erase the heartbreak, but knowing you acted out of protection helps you stand behind your choice.
3. Create rituals of closure
You might light a candle, take a walk, or do something symbolic to acknowledge what’s ending. These gestures help your soul sense the shift is real.
4. Seek safe support
Talk with a trusted friend or a therapist who understands boundary complexity. In Galway and the West of Ireland, my clients often find solace in coaching, group programs, or personal development courses. You don’t have to carry this grief alone.
5. Practice self-compassion
When your inner critic attacks (“You’re cold,” “You’re selfish”), pause. Ask: What does my heartbroken part need right now? Be gentle. You’re doing hard work.
Boundary heartbreak doesn’t mean the boundary was wrong
One of the lies we tell ourselves is: “If it hurts this much, maybe I shouldn’t have done it.” But that’s not true. The sorrow you feel doesn’t mean your boundary was wrong — it means you deeply care about what’s shifting.
Setting boundaries is both an act of protection and, often, of mourning. You lose while you heal.
You’re not alone in this
This heartbreak is a quieter loss. Few see it. Few validate it. Many assume that because you initiated the boundary, you must’ve done so easily. But many of us — in Galway, across Ireland’s West — know this: the person asserting limits feels pain too.
In my personal development courses in the West of Ireland, we often explore this hidden grief. We learn how to stand firm, hold tenderness, and let boundaries become bridges to wholeness — not walls.
If you’re walking through this boundary heartbreak and want compassionate support, I’m here. You don’t have to numb your heart or rush your emotions. Healing takes time — and you deserve that time.