Yesterday morning, I didn’t hold firm to one of my boundaries. I felt myself becoming very triggered, and instead of walking away, I stayed in the conversation. I knew I was becoming overwhelmed, but I kept talking and trying to work through something when I was already too flooded to work through it well. I let myself spiral into an emotional place I haven’t been in almost a year, and honestly, it is a place I never want to see again.

When I finally started to come back to normal, I felt ashamed. I had failed to keep a promise I made to myself. I don’t like saying that I failed, but that is what happened. I had hoped that after everything I have learned and all the work I have done, I would respond differently. I wanted to recognize what was happening, pause, hold my boundary, and walk away before I fell that far. But I didn’t, and I was disappointed in myself.

I think part of what hurt so much afterward was knowing that I had let myself down. These boundaries are important to me. I didn’t make them casually. I put them in place because I know what happens to me when a difficult conversation goes too far and I become overwhelmed. I know how quickly fear and hurt can take over, and I know how difficult it can be to climb back out of that emotional pit once I am there. I had made a promise to myself that I would step away before I reached that place again, and this time I didn’t keep that promise.

So I went back and read my boundary statement. I needed to remind myself why I had written it in the first place. I am a child of God. I am beloved and valuable. I am free and responsible to choose what I will participate in. My boundaries help me live in that truth.

Proverbs 4:23 says, “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” I don’t think that means I should build walls around myself or avoid anything difficult, but I do think there is wisdom in recognizing that I have a responsibility to guard what I continue participating in. For me, sometimes guarding my heart means recognizing when a conversation is no longer productive and stepping away.

Holding my boundaries is part of being good to myself. They are not about punishing my husband or controlling his behavior. They are about recognizing what is mine to choose. I can decide when a conversation is no longer healthy for me. I can decide when I need to stop talking and walk away. I can choose not to keep participating in something that is pulling me farther and farther away from being grounded in truth.

I wish I had done that. I wish I had recognized sooner how overwhelmed I was becoming and stepped away. I wish I had kept the promise I made to myself. I don’t want to brush past that or tell myself it didn’t matter, because it did. There is something here for me to learn. I need to recognize the warning signs sooner. I need to listen when I know I am becoming flooded. And when I know I need to step away, I need to actually step away.

But I also don’t want to take this failure and turn it into shame. I can be disappointed in the choice I made without condemning myself for making it. Romans 8:1 says, “There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” That doesn’t mean I pretend I did everything right. It doesn’t mean there aren’t things I need to own or do differently. It means my failure does not change who I am in Christ.

Hebrews 4:16 tells me that I can approach God’s throne of grace with confidence so that I can receive mercy and find grace when I need it. And I needed it yesterday morning.

I am so thankful that God is near to me even when I mess up. I don’t have to come to God only when I have responded perfectly. I can come to Him when I am disappointed in myself, when I wish I had done better, and when I know I need His help to make a different choice next time. His grace doesn’t excuse what happened. His grace gives me somewhere to go with it.

I am reminded about something I say to my two-and-a-half-year-old grandson when he is learning something new. Sometimes he gets frustrated when he can’t do something the first time. I look at him and say in an encouraging voice, “Try again.”

I don’t say it because it doesn’t matter that he didn’t get it right. I say it because I know he is learning. I know that not getting something the first time doesn’t mean he can’t learn how to do it. He may need another attempt. Maybe several more attempts. So I encourage him to try again.

I think I need to give myself some of that same grace.

I failed to hold my boundary. I don’t like that, and I want to learn from it. But I get to try again.

And I’m sure there will be a next time. There will probably be another difficult conversation, another trigger, another moment when fear or hurt starts rising inside of me. I cannot promise myself that I will never feel that way again. What I can do is keep learning to recognize it sooner and make a different choice when it happens.

Maybe next time I will recognize what is happening a little sooner. Maybe next time I will stop the conversation before I am completely overwhelmed. Maybe next time I will keep the promise I made to myself.

Lamentations 3:22–23 says that because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, His compassions never fail, and His mercies are new every morning. Those verses have always been especially meaningful to me because Great Is Thy Faithfulness is my favorite hymn. I have loved that hymn for years, but today the truth behind it feels a little more personal.

God’s faithfulness is not dependent on mine.

I failed to keep a promise I made to myself, but God did not fail me. His mercy was still there when I finally climbed out of that emotional pit. His grace was still there when I was disappointed in myself. His faithfulness did not change because I had a bad morning.

Maybe that is part of what “try again” means for me. It isn’t me promising that I will get everything right next time. It is knowing that because God is faithful, I can get back up and keep growing.

I want to be good to myself by keeping the boundaries I have set and I never want to see that emotional pit again. I know how dark it feels down there, and I don’t want to willingly keep walking toward a place that I know is harmful to me.

One bad morning doesn’t erase the progress I have made, but I also don’t want to waste what happened by refusing to learn from it. I failed to hold my boundary. I let myself down, and I don’t like that. But God was still near. His grace was still available. His faithfulness never changed.

Tomorrow His mercies will be new again. And when the next opportunity comes, I can remember what I so often tell my grandson.

Try again.