Before It’s a Problem

You can point to the line easily. You know what “too much” would look like, at least in theory. It would involve consequences, concern from others, disruption you couldn’t smooth over. None of that is happening. That’s part of what reassures you.

Because you haven’t crossed it, you still feel entitled to trust yourself. You still feel separate from the people who have stories, explanations, or warnings attached to their behavior. Whatever this is, it doesn’t belong in that category. It hasn’t earned that kind of seriousness.

At the same time, you’re more aware of the line than you used to be. You think about where it is in relation to yesterday, or last week, or certain days that feel different from others. You don’t feel close to it — but you do feel oriented toward it, as if you’re keeping it in view.

What makes this moment strange is that the line hasn’t moved, but your attention has. You’re not standing on the edge. You’re just aware that the edge exists, and that awareness feels new. It’s not fear. It’s not guilt. It’s more like calibration.

You might tell yourself that everyone has lines like this. That being conscious of limits is a sign of maturity, not trouble. And that may be true. Still, there’s a difference between knowing a boundary exists and checking it repeatedly to make sure you’re still on the right side.

This page isn’t here to decide whether the line matters. It’s here to acknowledge that noticing it has become part of your thinking. You’re not crossing anything. You’re just standing a little closer than you used to — and paying attention to what that feels like.