There’s a moment that sneaks up on you in conversations—someone starts talking and, before you know it, you're deep in the weeds of their breakup, their boss drama, their third cousin’s dog’s vet bill.

You’re nodding, maybe throwing in the occasional “Wow” or “That’s wild,” but inside you’re thinking: How did I get cast in this one-person show I didn’t audition for?

Take heart. This doesn’t happen because you’re too nice. It happens because somewhere along the way, we were taught that being a “good friend,” a “good colleague,” a “good person” means being endlessly available for other people’s emotional baggage—no matter how full our own arms already are.

Here’s what I want to challenge: the idea that listening without limits is a virtue.

Because it's not. It’s often a survival strategy. It’s the quiet fear that if we draw a line—if we interrupt, or redirect, or say, “Hey, I can’t hold all this right now”—we’ll be seen as selfish. Cold. Rude.

And fear is the enemy of confidence.

Confidence is not about being stone-faced or detached. It’s about knowing your capacity and honoring it. It’s about recognizing when a conversation has shifted from connection to emotional labor—and having the clarity to step out, without shame or apology.

And here's the paradox: when you model that kind of boundary, you give other people permission to do the same. You show that strength doesn’t come from over-functioning—it comes from being honest about your limits.

This episode is your call to pay attention to where your energy is going. To stop treating emotional overload like a social obligation. And to start seeing boundaries not as a defense, but as a commitment to your own peace.