What Grief Taught Me About Boundaries (And Saying ‘No’ Without Guilt)

Tammy Landsiedel
Jun 27
2 min read

Grief does weird things to your brain. You stop caring about things you once obsessed over, like whether Janet from accounting thinks you're too blunt, or if that one “friend” will be mad if you don’t text them back within six minutes.

But let me tell you—grief is a brutal, soul-shattering teacher. It brings a clarity you never asked for and definitely didn’t want. And one of the biggest, hardest, most liberating lessons I’ve learned?

Boundaries.Hard ones. Sharp ones. Unapologetic, titanium-plated, do-not-cross-these-or-I’ll-scream ones.

🛑 Before Loss: People-Pleasing Olympic Gold Medalist

Before I lost Dakota, I was a professional accommodator. I was the “Sure, I’ll do it,” “No worries,” “Sorry if I was too blunt,” type. I played the role people needed me to play—peacemaker, fixer, self-sacrificing yes-woman. I made excuses for toxic people. I swallowed my truths to keep the peace. I said yes when I wanted to scream NOPE with both middle fingers raised.

I apologized. A lot.

I tiptoed around people’s egos like it was my job. (Spoiler: it wasn’t.)

💥 After Loss: Something Snapped—and I’m Grateful

When Dakota died, something inside me broke. And not just the obvious heart-shattering part. It was deeper than that—it was a split between who I’d been and who I had to become to survive.

And that version of me? She doesn’t beg for space. She takes it.

She doesn’t hand out explanations like coupons. She chooses her words—if she bothers explaining at all.

She doesn't keep people around out of obligation.

She curates her circle like her peace depends on it—because it does.

Grief stripped me raw. And when I started rebuilding, I realized I didn’t want to add back the parts of me that were only there to make other people more comfortable.

🚫 Saying No Without Guilt Is My Love Language Now

These days, I say no freely. Loudly. With a smile. Sometimes, even in a group chat for dramatic effect. And guess what?

No guilt.

No guilt for saying no. No guilt for choosing rest.No guilt for skipping the toxic family gathering. No guilt for ghosting someone who’s always brought more drama than joy.No guilt for wanting peace. No guilt for choosing me.

I don’t owe anyone my energy, my time, or my mental health. I give those things to people who show up, who respect me, and who bring light instead of draining it.

🔥 I Don’t Chase People. I Don’t Perform. I Don’t Pretend.

If you don’t reach out, I don’t chase.If you lie, I cut the cord.If you bring negativity, I don’t decorate the space for you—I lock the damn door.

It’s not arrogance. It’s self-preservation. After you’ve watched the world collapse in front of your eyes, you don’t waste time trying to fix things that are meant to be broken. You stop tap-dancing for people who wouldn’t flinch if you shattered.