Boundaries, Business, and Letting Go
Earlier this year, I was still doing some marketing work. It used to be my career, but lately I only take it on occasionally — usually to help friends. One project in particular started out fun: a seasonal attraction. I’d even been part of it years ago, back when it was just a passion project.
When I joined the team professionally at the end of 2020 to manage marketing, it was right when they were reopening after the COVID lockdowns. People were desperate for something entertaining and safe to do outside the house, and demand was huge. That first year was easy — ticket sales soared, crowds poured in, and the energy was electric.
The second year, though, I started to see the cracks. Attendance was still solid, but the momentum was slipping. And the pressure to keep scaling up was intense.
That’s when I realized: if this was going to grow, it needed to be run like a business. And protected like one, even if it was still volunteer-driven.
When Passion Projects Become Businesses
The operation wasn’t structured like a business. Calls were forwarded to a volunteer’s personal cell phone. The “official” email was a free account anyone could access, but a certain someone was hoarding. Decisions got bottlenecked through people with no authority, no accountability, and no stake in the outcome.
I warned about the risks — liability, lack of systems, no clear chain of responsibility. But the reality was, the project had outgrown what its founder ever planned. It was supposed to be fun. Suddenly, it was a business, and he didn’t know how to step into that role.
When Work and Friendship Collide
Fast forward to February 2025. We had promised a special holiday event. There was zero downtime between the fall season and this one. People were exhausted, but the demand was real.
I was always remote, disconnected from what was happening on the ground. The “executive team” had shrunk to just a few of us, and the workload piled up fast: infrastructure, marketing, volunteer management, sales channels.
The technical team was dealing with literal rats chewing through cabling. Others checked out. And somehow, I was still expected to keep everything moving — without support, without leadership. But the tickets still needed to sell. Butts through the door, as we’d say.
That’s when it hit me: this wasn’t just a bad client. It was a broken friendship.
The Lesson in Boundaries
Losing the depth of that friendship hurt. I had to grieve it the way you grieve the end of any relationship.
Initially, this project provided me with stability when I had none. But the recent delays, avoidance, and ghosting quickly added more stress than it was worth.
Eventually, I realized something important: I didn’t owe anyone anything. In a conversation with the owner and friend, I was trying to give the kind of closure I would want — transparency, kindness, clarity.
I’m learning quickly that not everyone deserves that from me.
Boundaries aren’t about overexplaining. They’re about what I’m willing to tolerate, and reciprocating respect when it’s given. In this case, it was giving exactly what was asked for — nothing more, nothing less.
Growth Doesn’t Always Feel Good
Here’s what I know now from that experience:
I don’t ghost people.
I don’t leave someone hanging on money owed.
I don’t talk someone up behind their back while treating them poorly to their face.
That’s my standard. And when someone else’s standards don’t match mine, it’s not my job to drag them up to my level. It’s my job to set and hold my boundaries.
As I head into my late 30s, this feels like one of those mile markers. Growth doesn’t always feel good. Sometimes it feels like disappointment, grief, or anger.
But boundaries are the mile markers that show you’re moving forward.
And this was one of those moments I just needed to write out,,, and let it go.
