Protection (exclusion) Is Beautiful

As we move through and heal the fear that arises when we say ‘no,’ we begin to see protection and exclusion as precious and even beautiful.

When my dog Gary barks at passersby from our home window, I used to get annoyed if it felt too much. Now, I find myself smiling, knowing he takes his role as protector so seriously.

There is so much talk about inclusion, but exclusion—the opposite—is just as important and beautiful.

I’ve been thinking: is it possible to celebrate exclusion if we carry deep wounds of abandonment and betrayal? For me, it wasn’t easy. These wounds disconnected me from the joy of protection. Often, they form when someone—usually a caretaker—said ‘no’ to us as children in threatening ways. If you grew up in a dysfunctional home, you likely saw caregivers express protection and exclusion unconsciously, often directed against you rather than in service to you. This might have looked like shaming, silent treatment, rage, judgment, or withdrawal of warmth and love. They were protecting themselves from their own pain, at the expense of connection with you.

We then conflate the expression of ‘no’ with the feelings it triggered in us—hurt, loneliness, shame, or punishment.

Healing our relationship with ‘no’ means meeting the pain that ‘no’ has held over the course of a lifetime. In this healing, we gain freedom: we can allow people to reject us, get angry at us, punish us, stay silent, or leave—and see these actions as their unconscious way of saying ‘no.’ We begin to notice that when we acted in these ways ourselves, it was often because we hadn’t yet learned to consciously say ‘no.’ Compassion naturally arises when we recognize a human being struggling with their own relationship to ‘no.’ At this point, both their ‘no’ and ours—conscious or unconscious—no longer feel threatening.