Kindly Unavailable: Reclaiming Your Boundaries with Courage

And why being warm doesn't require being available

Why we've been taught that saying no requires cruelty

I still remember my first dance with setting boundaries.

A few years ago, my friend Emma asked if I could watch her dog while she went out of town. I'd already committed to three other things that weekend, my energy was at zero, and honestly? I didn't want to spend my Saturday cleaning up after someone else's anxious golden retriever.

But instead of saying "I can't swing it this time," I found myself crafting this elaborate explanation about my schedule, my own dog's needs, and the unfairness of last-minute requests. I was so determined to prove I wasn't being mean that I ended up sounding... well, mean.

Emma's response was immediate: "Wow, okay. Didn't realize it was such a big deal."

I had managed to say no while somehow making her feel terrible for asking.

That's when I realized something: I'd confused setting boundaries with building walls. I thought kindness and unavailability were mutually exclusive.

We've been sold a lie about boundaries.

The False Choice We've All Accepted

Somewhere along the way, we learned that saying no requires a certain coldness. That protecting your time means sacrificing your warmth. That you can't be both unavailable and loving.

We've created this false binary where you're either endlessly accommodating or you're harsh. Either you're a pushover or you're cruel. Either you say yes to everything or you armor up and push people away.

Here's what actually happens: The people-pleasers burn out and eventually start setting boundaries from a place of accumulated resentment. They've said yes so many times when they meant no that when they finally start declining, it comes out sharp and defensive.

The people on the receiving end feel punished for asking. They learn to tiptoe around these newly "boundaried" people, never quite sure when their request might trigger an explosion.

Everyone ends up confused about what healthy boundaries actually look like.

When I Learned to Armor Up

I spent years believing that saying no required becoming someone I didn't recognize. That boundaries meant building a fortress around my time and energy, complete with moats and warning signs.

My "no" became a weapon. Clipped responses. No explanations. No warmth. "I can't help." Period. End of discussion.

It felt awful.

Like I was cosplaying as someone I fundamentally wasn't.

The people I cared about started treating me differently. They'd hesitate before asking for anything. They'd preface requests with apologies. My boundaries were working, technically, but I was losing the connections I actually wanted to preserve.

That's when I realized something crucial: I wasn't setting boundaries out of self-respect. I was setting them from self-protection.

There's a difference.

The Energy Behind the Words

Kind unavailability and harsh rejection aren't distinguished by politeness or word count. They're distinguished by intention and energy.

Harsh rejection says: "Your request is an assault on my autonomy. You should have known better."

Kind unavailability says: "I see your need, I understand why you asked, and I'm not available to help."

One treats the other person's request as something to defend against. The other treats it as information to respond to with clarity and care.

When you're harsh, you're usually operating from years of accumulated resentment. All those times you said yes when you meant no have crystallized into a wall of anger that makes every request feel like an attack.

When you're kind, you're operating from genuine choice. You can afford to be warm because you're not fighting for your right to exist—you already know you have it.

What I Discovered About Trust

Here's the revelation that changed everything for me: kind unavailability requires me to trust people to handle disappointment like the capable adults they are.

Harsh rejection assumes people are fragile or manipulative. That they can't hear “no” without falling apart. That they'll use your kindness against you.

Kind unavailability assumes people can handle your humanity, including the inconvenient parts. It trusts them to hear "no" without taking it personally, to find alternative solutions, to respect your limits without requiring punishment for asking.

This doesn't mean being naive about boundary-pushers. But it means starting from respect rather than defensiveness.

The Practice of Warm Boundaries

Learning to be kindly unavailable is like learning any other skill—awkward at first, then surprisingly natural.

Some examples that maintain connection while maintaining clarity:

• "I wish I could help with this—I'm not available."

• "Thanks for thinking of me! I can't take this on right now."

• "I understand this is important to you, and I'm not able to help this time."

Notice: no elaborate justifications, no apologies for having limits, no explanation of why your weekend belongs to you. But also no harshness, no punishment for asking, no message that their need is somehow wrong.

The goal isn't to become unavailable to everyone. It's to become available by choice rather than by default.

What Changes When You Stop Armoring Up

These days, when Emma texts about dog-sitting (with more notice now, interestingly), I can say "Can't swing it this time, but I hope you find someone great!" without feeling like I'm betraying either of us.

The people who love me have learned they can ask without fearing an explosion. They know I'll give them a straight answer without making them feel terrible for having needs.

The people who couldn't handle my warm unavailability revealed useful information about what they valued in our relationship.

You can be kind and boundaried simultaneously. You can care about people while declining to solve their problems. You can maintain connection while maintaining limits.

The kindness isn't in saying yes. The kindness is in treating both of you like capable humans who can navigate disappointment without falling apart.

The Roadmap for Gentle Boundary-Setting

After Tuesday's piece on disappointing people without disappointing yourself, I was asked by someone a really important question: "How do I say no without becoming someone I don't recognize?"

For paid subscribers, I created "Kindly Unavailable: Reclaiming Your Boundaries with Courage"—my Thursday Offering for people who want to honor both their generous hearts and their human limits.

I hope this helps answer this important question.

What You'll Discover

The Practice of Gentle Defiance

Learn to craft authentic responses that maintain warmth while establishing clarity. Practice language for different scenarios—from simple requests to handling guilt trips by repeat offenders—all designed to keep you connected while keeping you boundaried.

From Resentment to Respect

Explore how accumulated accommodation creates the anger that makes boundary-setting feel harsh, and practice setting limits from self-respect rather than self-protection.

Body Wisdom Integration

Your body knows the difference between generous yes and obligatory yes, between kind unavailability and harsh rejection. You'll learn to recognize and trust these signals.

This isn't about becoming selfish or uncaring. It's about dismantling the lie that kindness requires availability.

Because the goal isn't to become unavailable to everyone. It's to become available by choice rather than by default.

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"Kindly Unavailable: Reclaiming Your Boundaries with Courage" is available now as a downloadable workbook exclusively for paid subscribers, complete with practical scripts, reflection exercises, and integration practices for people learning to honor their limits without losing their hearts.