Unintentional & Intentional Model on Parenting Boundaries – Part 4

I’ve returned to the model from the cuddling incident because I’ve uncovered deeper layers in that experience.

At the time, I didn’t really think my son was in physical danger or that something clearly inappropriate was happening. The violation wasn’t so much toward him—it was toward me. What I see now is that the deeper fear or pain was around the idea that they were creating an intimate, family-like moment—something I currently can’t give him. And I felt replaced. Like they’d taken something from me that was supposed to be mine to give.

I also felt unseen by my cousin. There was no pause or consideration that maybe this wasn’t their place. I can understand now that it may not have been intended to hurt me—but it did. And at the time, the only way I knew how to name it was through the word inappropriate, because it felt like a boundary had been crossed. But now I realize it hit a much deeper wound—the fear that I’m not enough, especially as a single mother.

It felt like a violation of my right to one day create that kind of sacred moment—with someone I choose. And I think that’s where the core pain sits. That’s why I went back to redo the model—this time using a thought that gets closer to what was really happening underneath, even if it’s not entirely rational: the sense that they were trying to replace me.

The intentional model was difficult to write. I didn’t want to gaslight myself into pretending I shouldn’t feel what I felt. So I tried to frame it less from fear, and more from compassion—to see how I could still honor my boundary and emotions without spiraling into guilt or collapse.

I’m sharing this in the hope that it helps close this chapter, or at least the inquiry around it. I know now that the incident wasn’t about my son’s physical safety—it was about my emotional safety. And that’s something I’m still learning how to protect, name, and prioritize.

Unintentional Model

C: I receive a text from my cousin saying she, her partner, and my son are back in bed together in their pajamas.

T: They created a family moment without me—and they want to replace me.

F: Deep grief. Violation. Existential pain.

Sensations: Pain in my chest. Wobbly knees. Energetic collapse—like something sacred was taken from me.

A:
• Go into a trauma response—panic, freeze, hypervigilance.
• Send a message to re-establish control and name discomfort.
• Mentally replay the incident over and over, trying to understand.
• Begin analyzing their intentions, searching for hidden motives.
• Feel ashamed of the intensity of my inner thoughts.
• Obsessively question whether I’m overreacting.
• Withdraw from contact, but stay emotionally entangled.
• Carry the weight of the experience in silence for months.

R:
I reinforce the belief that I can’t trust anyone with what matters most to me. I feel exposed, unprotected, and alone in my role as a mother. I question the strength and uniqueness of my bond with my son and feel I have to guard it fiercely—because others will take what’s mine if I don’t.

Intentional Model
C: My cousin and her partner were in bed in pajamas with my son while I was away.
T: I am allowed to feel violated by this moment. It showed me I’m not ready to hand my son into others’ care—and that’s not a failure.
F: Grounded. Protective. Self-affirming.
A:
• I trust the pain that surfaced as a signal, not a weakness.
• I reflect deeply on what matters most in my bond with my son.
• I honor the need for tighter boundaries around his care.
• I stop outsourcing connection or caregiving until deep trust is established.
• I allow the grief and learn from it, instead of shaming myself for having it.
R: I reclaim my authority as my son’s protector and embrace the sacred bond we share. I stay aligned with what feels right for us—even when it’s hard.

What still feels unresolved is how I move forward from here. Do I communicate this to my cousin? Do I keep distance from her partner for now? Do I pause everything until the wedding, or try to meet her one-on-one again? I haven’t replied to her message about the wedding yet either—and that’s also still lingering.

Answer:

How would this version of you answer these questions?

I reclaim my authority as my son’s protector and embrace the sacred bond we share. I stay aligned with what feels right for us—even when it’s hard.

If you could paint a mental picture of you in this mode, what do you look like? How do you act? What do you think? What are you willing to feel in order to stay aligned with yourself?

Moving forward, having conversations, etc may be uncomfortable, so what? What is the alternative?