Lesson 1: Boundaries

My first important lesson in the immediate aftermath of my breakup with S. was the importance of establishing and maintaining interpersonal boundaries between myself and those around me. I learned and understood right away the boundaries I needed to start enforcing to keep me from owning part of her dysfunction -- in fact that was really a prerequisite for breaking up in the first place. Without that framework to lean on, I could not have carried through with it as I did during the crucial initial days.
The biggest surprise for me though was not learning the utility of a well-situated boundary with S., but realising how universally applicable the concept of personal boundaries was, and that more of my current boundaries were either grossly misplaced or glaringly absent. I was a bit stunned to discover that despite my having cut contact with S., my father was not only in touch with her, but visiting her regularly, driving her places, and even babysitting V. for her. I made an interesting decision in how I chose to respond to that: rather than angrily lecturing him about loyalty or the inappropriateness of his behaviour, I calmly told him about the boundary I had established between me and S., explained to him my determination not to violate it, and suggested to him that he therefore be deliberate in deciding which side of that boundary he chose to spend his time on.
As difficult as maintaining such separation is, it is at least a simple and elegant script to follow, and I did an excellent job of it at first. But after she moved out -- around the corner -- I perhaps became a bit cocky or complacent. As I sifted through the shards of my half of our broken life together, I incautiously dabbled in a sort of casual contact regimen with my now-neighbour S.: offering to return things of hers I had discovered, answering her calls, texts and emails, installing, replacing and then removing a sign on her house for the federal election, going out of my way to bike or drive past her house to get to mine, even accepting and eating food (a well-chosen favourite selection from her enviable repertoire) which she made for and offered to me one day. Boundary breaches can go either way, and one can invite the other: I allowed her in, but I also failed to prevent myself from crossing the line as I reached out. She very quickly managed to sneak back underneath my skin: just an inch or two, but far enough to undo a lot of work which had only recently been done. She is a resourceful woman and has a tremendous ability to effect a remarkable amount of emotional leverage with even the tiniest purchase.
I was much better at maintaining an appropriate boundary with my father, although that was quite painful for him at first, and there is a real risk of more pain for both of us down the road. And my boundary with S. is more or less back in place: I have been very disciplined about not letting her in, but boundaries work both ways, and the part I still struggle with is preventing myself from straying out across the line -- I still catch myself walking down to the corner hoping to see her, or reaching for the phone to call and hear her voice. Clearly some of the damage that was done turned out to be far more difficult to repair after the breach than it had been to establish in the first place.