What I've Learned About Written Agreements Over The Years

After my second disclosure, I spent a lot of time online. Some might say an unhealthy time online.

Those some would be my counselor and my ex-husband’s CSAT. They weren’t wrong.

During that time, I remember seeing a lot of disagreements about boundary agreements. People agreed that boundaries were necessary for someone’s well-being, but not much about written boundary agreements.

I wasn’t sure what to think.

At the time, my boundaries were trash. I had been so enmeshed with my ex-husband at one point that I lost my moral compass. I was trying to survive my marriage.

After disclosure, my betrayal trauma caused me to try to control everything. I tried to control his recovery and my kids; I even tried to control the router.

And when I say control the router, I mean control it. I threatened to disconnect it if he had a setback. Common sense arrived when I realized the rest of us used it, not just him.

It took me a long time to understand the difference between control and healthy boundaries.

I also had to learn the difference between a request and a boundary.

I could ask my ex-husband to do something. That was a request. He could choose whether or not to do it.

A boundary was about me. What did I need to feel safe and healthy? What was I willing to accept? And what would I do if that boundary was crossed?

Healthy boundaries meant that I was protecting my emotional wellbeing. I was creating a safe space for me to process my emotions, heal, build self-esteem and self-worth, and have a respectful voice.

There were countless times that I was lied to, manipulated into believing things that weren’t true (even when I saw it with my own eyes), and disrespected time after time.

I was no longer a partner in my marriage. I was surviving in it.

Boundaries helped me establish a safe footing to stand on when I started to doubt myself like I’d done so many times over the course of my marriage. I’d become someone I didn’t recognize.

After my second disclosure, the one where I found out all the things he’d done in the short time we’d been married, I wrote a boundary agreement.

I remember going online and seeing how many people were opposed to it and couldn’t understand why. My counselor didn’t have an issue with it, so why did it feel like so many other people did?

And more importantly, why did I care so much?

When I brought my first written boundary agreement to my counselor, she shared some words of wisdom with me. Which is a nice way of saying she redlined a lot of it.

I was still struggling with the difference between control and protecting my own needs.

She asked me to think about my needs instead of focusing on him.

I went home and re-read my agreement. She was right. It was all about him.

I want to know what you are going to do if you have a setback.

I want to know what you are doing about your triggers.

I think it’s important that I know when something goes in your middle circle.

Not a whole lot of “my needs” in there.

Eeek.

So I sat down and really thought about it, and realized this was why I needed a written boundary agreement. And I didn’t mind that other people may not need one. I definitely did.

My brain was fried.

I was overwhelmed at the thought of not “helping” him with his recovery.

Each time I started to type, I realized that I was crossing that imaginary line over into his “stuff.” Why did I want to do that? He’s a grown man. Has a full-time job. Capable of making his own decisions and responsible for his own actions and choices. So, why did I want to keep “helping” him when it came to his addiction?

Great question, Laura. Now, what’s the answer? I didn’t have it yet, but I knew if I kept it in mind while I wrote my boundaries, I would stay in my lane.

I thought about what I needed the most first.

I started by thinking about some small, manageable requests that would help me feel safer in the relationship. For most people, they may seem like common sense, but for us…not so common.

• "If you’re going to be late, please text me. Otherwise, I start to worry, and it triggers my anxiety."

• "Please read the article our counselor recommended to understand the trauma I’m experiencing."

But a request isn’t the same thing as a boundary. I could ask him to do something, but I couldn’t control whether he actually did it. My boundary was about what I would do if something I needed wasn’t respected.

So then, I thought about how I would respond if those requests or boundaries weren’t respected.

I had to be mindful that this wasn’t about punishing him. It was about prioritizing my own self-care and mental wellbeing. So, I thought of things like:

• Skipping a planned date night if I didn’t feel emotionally up for it. Why put on a fake smile?

• Needing some space, like a night alone, to process my feelings.

I also established non-negotiable boundaries as I wrote things down. These were the things I could and couldn’t accept.

Like:

• "If my ex-husband cheats again, I will leave. I have made peace with this boundary because it’s necessary for my self-respect."

• "If he has a setback and hides it, he’ll sleep in another room for three days. I need transparency for trust to rebuild."

You may have already spotted the problem with that one. I hadn’t yet. I was still telling him what he would do instead of deciding what I would do.

On the other hand, "If he has a setback but tells me openly, there is no consequence. Addiction can come with challenges, and open communication makes a difference."

I also included one about his recovery. Because it affected my emotional wellbeing, my recovery, and emotional sobriety. Ultimately, it was also the boundary I had to keep when his recovery became stagnant:

• “For me to feel safe and at peace in this relationship, I need to be with someone who’s in active, healthy recovery. When that’s not happening, it creates anxiety for me, and I’ll need to step back or leave the relationship.”

Sometimes, a boundary doesn’t feel empowering the moment we create it. It also may not feel empowering when we need to maintain it. Sometimes it feels sad. But mourning and self-respect can exist in our hearts. That's what it felt like when I maintained my boundary to be with someone in active, healthy recovery.

Lying caused the most damage in our relationship, so I needed to address that too. He’d lie about the most innocuous things, and it was maddening to me. So, I created a boundary for that too.

I also wanted us to learn how to communicate better. I’d never been with someone who engaged with me the way he did, and we’d fallen into very unhealthy patterns:

• Circular arguments

• Passive-aggressiveness

• Throwing up walls

• Going for the jugular

• Silent treatment

If it was unhealthy, we were doing it. Except yelling and name-calling. Not sure how we avoided those, but we did.

I created a boundary on communication too.

As I wrote each one down, I started to feel lighter.

When I returned to my counselor the following week, I expected a pat on the back and a gold star. Which I got…almost.

My boundaries weren’t perfect, especially my directing him to sleep in another room. That wasn’t really a boundary because I was still telling him what he had to do. A healthier boundary would have focused on what I would do when I needed space.

Sure, I needed him to be open, honest, and transparent.

But I also needed that space and time alone to process my hurt and anger without the pressure of him being in the same room with me.

That written boundary agreement gave me something tangible to look at.

It gave me the reassurance I needed to see his signature at the bottom of the page.

It was there in black and white.

He couldn’t dispute it.

He couldn’t twist it.

He couldn’t manipulate it…or me.

Not when it was there. Written on a piece of paper.

And sometimes, on my most anxious days, that piece of paper was all I had to hang onto.

With time, as I gathered my healing tools and gently placed them in my toolkit, I found my strength. I found my self-esteem. I found my own identity and voice.

I didn’t need that piece of paper to hold me up anymore. I could do it on my own.

A written boundary agreement worked well for me. I think it’s one of those things that can be helpful for a period, as our minds are trying to sort through the myriad of emotions and chaos that betrayal trauma brings.

I also think it’s freeing when we’ve reached a point in our healing where we don’t need one anymore. Whether it’s because our relationship is healthier, or we become secure enough in our own boundaries that we no longer need a written reminder.

As for boundaries, those will stick with me forever. My boundaries are healthy. When they’re crossed, I can step back, pause, and evaluate before I react.

Best of all, I can say, “Not my monkeys. Not my circus,” as I watch from the sidelines.

Let’s Stay Connected

If this resonates with you, I’d really love to know. You can comment below or email me. You’re also invited to join other Bookenders on Reddit.

And if you’re looking for deeper exercises, I wrote Bookends of Recovery & Healing Workbook to help you heal from betrayal trauma and addiction by using creative exercises, action tools, and guided reflection.

Warmly,
Laura 🌻