Boundaries, Burnout, and Community Care
Boundaries have been a hot topic in recent years. There is a lot of talk about protecting our peace, saying no, and recognizing that we don't have to make ourselves endlessly available to everyone.
And much of that conversation has been necessary. Particularly for those of us who have been taught that our value comes from how much we give to others.
But there's something missing from that convo
Boundaries are important. And so is our responsibility to one another.
At a time when our communities are navigating attacks on their rights, access to healthcare, economic instability, and threats to their safety, we need to be intentional about how we talk about protecting our energy.
Sometimes community care means showing up when we're tired. Sometimes it means doing something inconvenient. Sometimes it means being there for someone even when we'd rather stay home.
And that's not necessarily a boundary violation. Sometimes that's what it means to care about each other.
What We Were Taught vs. What We Actually Need
Many of us grew up internalizing messages like:
Be nice.
Don't be difficult.
Keep the peace.
Always be available.
Don't be too much.
These messages become even more complicated when filtered through our identities.
For queer folks, BIPOC communities, disabled people, and others whose identities have been marginalized, the messages can become:
Don't take up space.
Don't make other people uncomfortable.
Hide parts of yourself to stay safe.
Be grateful for whatever you're given.
Don't challenge the systems around you.
And these aren't always just messages we internalize. There often are real consequences for not following them.
We learn to monitor other people's emotions, anticipate their needs, and make ourselves smaller to avoid conflict or harm.
Over time, this can show up as people-pleasing, hypervigilance, resentment, and burnout.
There's a difference between being taught to serve others at your own expense and choosing to care for others because you believe in collective responsibility.
One is rooted in obligation, fear, or survival. The other can be rooted in connection, solidarity, and the recognition that our well-being is tied to the well-being of others.
And sometimes, those motivations overlap.
The Cost of Constant Accessibility
For many of us, saying no is hard.
We worry about disappointing people. We worry about conflict. We worry about being perceived as selfish or uncaring.
And sometimes we say yes because we don't feel like we have another option.
But… not every responsibility is an unfair burden, and not every inconvenience is something we need to set a boundary around.
Sometimes I do things I don't want to do because I love my children. Because I care about my friends. Because I'm part of a community.
The issue isn't that we're asked to show up for other people.
The issue is when that responsibility is consistently unequal, when our needs never matter, or when the systems around us rely on our exhaustion to continue functioning. Boundaries are 100% necessary, we just need to be intentional about where and how we are creating them.
We shouldn't have to choose between caring for ourselves and caring for others. But we also have to recognize that this balance isn't equally available to everyone.
When Self-Care Becomes Individualism
There's a version of boundary-setting that has become increasingly popular: If something drains your energy, stop doing it. If someone needs too much, distance yourself. If something makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to participate.
And while there are absolutely circumstances where those choices are necessary, I think we need to question what happens when we apply that thinking to every relationship.
Community cannot function if our only responsibility is to ourselves.
Right now, people in our communities are facing circumstances that cannot be solved through individual coping skills or better boundaries.
People are losing access to resources. Families are facing threats to their stability. Marginalized communities are being asked to navigate systems that actively work against their well-being.
No amount of deep breathing or saying no is going to resolve systemic harm.
We need people willing to show up for each other.
Sometimes that looks like mutual aid, advocacy, organizing, or speaking out. Other times it's much smaller. Helping a friend with childcare. Bringing someone a meal. Listening when someone is struggling. Having a difficult conversation instead of walking away.
And yes, sometimes those things require emotional energy we would rather spend elsewhere.
That doesn't automatically make them unhealthy.
At the same time, we cannot build sustainable communities by expecting the same people, often those already experiencing marginalization, to carry all of the labor.
Collective care should mean sharing responsibility, not finding new ways to demand more from people who are already exhausted.
What Boundaries Actually Are
Boundaries aren't punishments. They're not tools to control other people's behavior, and they're not a way to avoid every uncomfortable interaction.
Boundaries help us identify our needs, limits, and responsibilities within our relationships.
They can sound like:
I want to support you, but I can't be your only source of support.
I care about what's happening, and I need to figure out what I can contribute to this right now.
I don't have the capacity for this conversation tonight, but I can connect tomorrow.
I can help with this part, but I need someone else to take on the rest.
This matters to me, even though it's difficult, and I'm choosing to show up.
Notice that not all of those examples involve saying no.
Sometimes a boundary is about how we say yes.
It's about understanding our capacity, recognizing when something is unsustainable, and communicating honestly with the people around us.
And boundaries are about recognizing that we need support, too.
Discomfort Isn't Always a Sign Something Is Wrong
We've become increasingly comfortable talking about protecting our peace. But I wonder if we've started to confuse discomfort with harm.
Healthy relationships aren't always comfortable.
Supporting people through grief, conflict, illness, or crisis can be exhausting. Holding ourselves accountable can be uncomfortable. Challenging injustice often requires us to do things that feel difficult or inconvenient.
That doesn't mean we should ignore our needs or override our bodies every time someone asks something of us.
But it does mean we can ask ourselves more nuanced questions:
Am I saying yes because I'm afraid of what will happen if I say no? Or am I saying yes because this relationship, person, or cause matters to me?
Is this a temporary moment when someone needs additional support? Or is this a pattern where I'm consistently expected to give more than I can?
Am I protecting myself from genuine harm? Or am I avoiding something difficult that is still important to me?
And perhaps most importantly: Who is being impacted by my decision to step away?
These questions aren't meant to create guilt. They're meant to help us recognize that our decisions happen within relationships, communities, and systems.
We can have compassion for our own limitations while still being accountable to one another.
How This Shows Up in Therapy
In the therapy room, we often see people who have spent years prioritizing everyone else's needs.
People who struggle to say no. People who feel responsible for managing everyone else's emotions. People who have learned that conflict means danger or that their needs are less important.
And we absolutely want to help people challenge those patterns.
But I don't believe the goal of therapy should be to make people so individually self-sufficient that they no longer feel responsible for anyone else.
The goal isn't to stop needing people or to stop being needed.
It's to build relationships where care, accountability, and support can move in more than one direction.
That might mean practicing how to say no without shame. It might mean learning how to ask for help. It might mean recognizing when you're giving out of fear rather than choice.
And sometimes it might mean exploring how to stay present in relationships and communities when things get uncomfortable.
Therapy can help us understand our capacity without turning every demand on that capacity into something we need to eliminate.
How Interna Holds This
At Interna, we recognize that burnout doesn't exist in a vacuum.
It's shaped by systems. By oppression. By unequal expectations. By the invisible labor so many people carry.
We don't want to pathologize the ways people have learned to survive those systems, and we don't want to pretend that individual coping skills can resolve structural harm.
We also believe that healing happens in relationships and community, not just within ourselves.
That means helping people understand their boundaries while also exploring their values, responsibilities, and connections to others.
It means creating room for difficult conversations, feedback, accountability, and repair.
Want to tell your therapist something didn't sit right? Want to practice saying, "I don't think you're understanding me"? Want to explore why saying no feels terrifying, or why you feel guilty when you can't show up for someone?
Those conversations matter.
We center the experiences of Queer, BIPOC, Neurodivergent, and other marginalized communities because we recognize that the ability to set boundaries, access rest, and ask for support isn't distributed equally.
And we believe that supporting individual well-being and working toward collective liberation are deeply connected.
Visit us at internamentalhealth.com to schedule a free consult.Let’s take one small, powerful step toward rest, clarity, and a life that’s actually sustainable.
About The Author: Bee Thomas, MSW, LICSW
I am a therapist and a Board-Approved Supervisor for pre-licensed individuals. I specialize in Gender, Trauma, the LGBTQIA+ community and exploring our own identities. I love exploring how systems interact in our day-to-day life. I also love to add some humor and weirdness to therapy.
