Boundaries, Pringles, and the Magic of Owning My Share

This morning, Kelly and I rolled out our mats on the pool deck at Margaritaville St. Thomas for a yoga session with The Underbelly Yoga led by Jessamyn Stanley. (Side note: if you haven’t experienced her yet, do yourself a favor—life-changing.)

We chose a practice about loving our bellies, abs, legs, and lower back, and as I watched Jessamyn move—strong, grounded, and fully in love with her body—something in me began to shift.

I started the practice feeling off. Embarrassed. Annoyed. Resisting whatever was filtering through my mind. And the thought that kept creeping in—the one I was trying so hard to push away?

I was worried my kid was going to eat my candy bar I had saved in the hotel freezer.

Yep. That was the big, looming, embarrassing thought I couldn’t shake. And wow, admitting that out loud stings. It feels so small, so silly. My inner critic was ruthless:

• Molly, you are an adult.

• It’s just a candy bar.

• This is ridiculous.

• You’re supposed to be more evolved than this.

I kept trying to dismiss it, shame it away, but the truth was—it wasn’t about the candy bar at all.

The Little Girl Who Just Wanted Her Share

Somewhere between downward dog and forward folds, I softened. I stopped judging the thought and started listening to it.

What if this wasn’t about chocolate at all?
What if this was my inner child—the little girl who grew up as the only girl between two brothers—asking to be heard?

I thought back to our kitchen growing up. The weekly groceries came in, and if you didn’t grab what you wanted fast enough, you missed out. The orange juice, the chips, the Cheerios—gone before I even had a chance. I didn’t want to fight for it. I didn’t want to race to the front of the line, so instead, I learned to let it go. I let my share disappear.

It became my pattern. I gave up my space, my portion, my piece. I convinced myself it was more loving, kinder, more spiritual. I became the easygoing one, the one who didn’t make waves, the one who didn’t need anything.

But this morning, on that yoga mat, I realized something big:

This wasn’t love. This wasn’t kindness. This wasn’t spiritual.

This was self-abandonment.

Boundaries Are Love, Not Rejection

As I moved through the practice, loving my belly—my hardest part to love—I also began to love the part of me that just wanted to know there is enough for me. That some things could be mine. That I don’t have to fight or disappear to make room for others.

And then I realized the deeper cost of never claiming my space:

• It wasn’t kind to my brothers. Because they never had to learn boundaries with me.

• It wasn’t kind to my kid. Because without boundaries, how can they know what’s okay and what’s not? Without clarity, they’re left guessing, reading my energy, or walking on eggshells.

• It wasn’t kind to myself. Because I kept betraying my own needs to make sure no one else was uncomfortable.

Clarity is kind. And clear boundaries—not passive-aggressiveness, not irritation, not self-sacrificing silence—are what create trust and ease in relationships.

The Pringles Moment

Later that day, Leo swam up to me at the pool and asked about the Pringles I had brought up from the hotel room.

This was the moment.

I took a deep breath and said:

"This is going to be hard for me, but I need to tell you something. These are my Pringles, and I brought them for me. I'm happy to share a few with you, but you ate yours yesterday."

My heart was racing. I braced for pushback. I was terrified they’d be mad at me, that they’d feel rejected, that they’d hate me for setting this tiny boundary.

But you know what they said?

"Oh sure," and then kept swimming.

That’s it.

Meanwhile, my entire nervous system was in recovery mode from a lifetime of conditioning.

The Hardest Work Isn’t Big—It’s Small

How many times have I done this in my life? Given up my share to please others, then silently resented it?

Too many to count.

But today was a step. A scary, uncomfortable, heart-pounding step. And it showed me something powerful: boundaries don’t push people away—they make relationships clearer, kinder, and more honest.

Leo didn’t need me to be a martyr.
They didn’t need me to pretend I didn’t care.
They just needed to know what was okay and what wasn’t.

And in telling them the truth, I gave them permission to do the same.

The Takeaways (For Me and Maybe You, Too)

If you’re someone who struggles with holding your space, claiming your portion, and setting boundaries, here’s what I’m learning:

1️⃣ Your needs are not small. That “silly” thing you’re embarrassed to admit? It’s probably pointing to something deeper. Listen to it.

2️⃣ Boundaries are loving. They are not rejection. They create trust, not distance.

3️⃣ Clarity is kind. People can’t read your mind. Say the thing.

4️⃣ You don’t have to justify your “why.” Wanting something just because is enough.

5️⃣ The small moments are where the work happens. It’s not in the big dramatic boundary-setting speeches—it’s in the tiny, everyday moments where you choose not to abandon yourself.

Today, I took a tiny step toward breaking a lifelong pattern. And the magic? It turns out, my kid is totally fine with my boundaries. The person who had the hardest time with it was me.

And that’s exactly why this is the work.