Kelsey SmithIt’s October. The world is in a season of transition, and I find myself in a pensive, “weird space.” I’m thinking about the many people I no longer correspond with as I step into this venture.
This isn’t a list of regrets. Instead, it’s a testament to my evolution.
My brand is built on the promise of “flourishing after the hard things.” But here’s the tea: “flourishing”—which is not the same as “thriving”—is a series of small, painful, and often lonely choices you have to make every single day. It is the hard work of deciding who you are and what your kingdom stands for, regardless of what anyone thinks of you.
My life has changed because I have changed. Here are the boundaries I’ve forged that have cost me friendships, and why I’d pay that price again to protect the sovereign peace I’ve earned.
1. I Will No Longer Be a “Safe Space” for Gossip
I’ve made a noble decree: I will not speak about anyone who is not in the room to stand up for themselves. This has made some of my old relationships impossible. When you refuse to participate in negativity, you are no longer seen as a “safe space” for people to vent their toxicity. I’ve learned that if something negative is said to me, it stays on my heart, and I have to address it with integrity. This is a lonely path, but it is the only one that isn’t paved with inauthenticity.
2. I Am No Longer Your Unpaid Therapist
As a survivor and a leader, I was a magnet for people in pain. For years, I played the role of the “therapist friend,” carrying the emotional weight of others until my own back broke. I am no longer that person.
Today, I will happily help a friend brainstorm solutions. I will be a guide, a partner, and a source of empowerment. But I will no longer be the person others rely on for the deep, consistent work that a licensed therapist is trained to provide.
Setting this boundary is a non-negotiable act of self-preservation. It is how I shield my energy from people who are draining, ensuring I have enough for my own healing, my own vision, and the people I am able to serve.
3. I Have No Room for Hypocrisy (Especially My Own)
If I say something, I mean it. This value has cost me dearly. I’ll never forget a friend I lost because, after years of her viciously making fun of MLMs, she joined one. I couldn’t support her. I had to call out the contradiction. I was told I was being unsupportive; I knew I was being consistent. In the kingdom of a Noble Sovereign, your word is your bond. A life of integrity means you are willing to lose relationships over it.
4. I Curate My Body and My Life Like a Sanctuary
I look at alcohol completely differently now. It is a known carcinogen, and I truly believe it fed my cancer. I’ll still have a glass of red wine here and tequila on the rocks there, but I no longer drink. It’s also been the source of embarrassing moments that my inner critic still holds over my head—and I am working every day to forgive myself for them.
A huge part of this curation has been reclaiming my physical self. I move my body at the gym and work out five days a week. Getting back into my body has been a crucial part of my healing, especially after years of treatment where I just wanted to be out of it.
This curation extends to my mission. My life is short. I am here to be in places and spaces that foster true belonging. If a relationship, a job, or a situation is not working, I will do my best to solve it. But if no solution is found, I will no longer set myself on fire to keep others warm. I will pivot. I will walk away.
This is my alchemical truth. This is the “messy middle” of flourishing. True personal growth is not just about affirmations and vision boards; it’s about the gut-wrenching, heartbreaking, and sovereign work of setting boundaries.
It’s about losing people you love and choosing, with tears in your eyes, to love yourself more.
Stay Noble.
