What is yours to carry? Boundaries, Control and the Things We Cannot Change

Today, thousands of young people across the country will open an envelope, log into a portal or collect a piece of paper that can feel as though it contains their entire future.

GCSE results day.

For some, there will be relief. For others, celebration. And for some young people, there will be disappointment, confusion or even a sense of failure.

Perhaps the grades weren't what they had hoped for. Perhaps they weren't enough for the sixth form, college or course they had their heart set on. Perhaps they are standing in a room full of people celebrating, wondering why their own result doesn't look like everyone else's.

Perhaps the adults around them are struggling too.

Because when someone we care about is hurting, our instinct is often to fix it.

We want to make it better. We want to find another option, make a phone call, challenge the result, find another college, reassure them that everything will be okay.

Sometimes, of course, practical action is exactly what's needed.

But there is another question worth asking:

What is actually within our control?

The boundary between what is ours and what isn't:

We often think of boundaries as something we put between ourselves and other people;

You can't speak to me like that.

I can't take on another piece of work.

I need some time to myself.

These are important boundaries.

But there is another kind of boundary that can be just as powerful: the boundary between what belongs to us and what doesn't.

Brené Brown describes boundaries as making clear what is okay and what is not okay, and why. That simple definition has a surprisingly powerful application beyond our relationships with other people.

Because sometimes we need to say:

This is mine to carry.

And sometimes we need to say:

This isn't mine to carry.

A GCSE student could only control a limited number of things, whether they revised, whether they asked for help or whether they went to bed early the night before the exam.

But they could not control the questions on the paper.

They could not control how they felt that morning.

They could not control whether they misunderstood a question.

And once the exam was over, they certainly couldn't control the mark awarded to them.

When we confuse influence with control

One of the hardest things about being human is that we can have influence without having control.

A parent can encourage their child to revise.

A teacher can provide support.

A manager can give feedback.

A colleague can communicate clearly.

A friend can offer advice.

But none of us can guarantee the outcome for another person.

This distinction matters because when we believe we should be able to control an outcome that isn't actually ours to control, we can end up carrying enormous amounts of unnecessary responsibility. And that responsibility can quickly turn into anxiety, guilt, frustration or blame.

If today you find yourself as a parent whose child hasn't achieved the grades they needed.

You might be thinking:

Should I have helped more?

Should I have noticed something earlier?

Did I put too much pressure on them?

Should I have paid for more tutoring?

What could I have done differently?

Some of those questions may be useful.

But some may simply be an attempt to find control in a situation where there isn't any.

A disappointing result is not a disappointing person

This feels particularly important today.

A grade is information. A measure of performance in the moment.

It may open one door and close another.

It may mean changing plans.

It may mean making a phone call, considering an alternative course, resitting something or taking a different route altogether.

But a grade cannot tell us the value of the person receiving it.

And perhaps one of the most important boundaries we can hold today is the boundary between achievement and identity.

You got a grade - you are not the grade.

You didn't get the result you wanted. But that doesn't make you as a person a failure.

Your original plan may no longer be possible but that does not mean you have no future.

There are already reports today of education leaders emphasising the variety of routes available to young people, including further education, training, apprenticeships and alternative qualifications.

Sometimes in life we are simple re-routed to a different path which often turns out to be the better path for us. When one door closes, the right door screams "Get over here!"

What can we control?

When things feel overwhelming, it can help to bring the question back to something much smaller:

What is within my control right now?

For a young person, that might be:

• How I speak to myself about my results.

• Whether I ask for help.

• Whether I find out what my options are.

• Whether I allow myself to be disappointed.

• Whether I talk to someone I trust.

• What I do next.

For a parent, it might look like:

• How I respond when my child is upset.

• Whether I listen before offering solutions.

• The language I use.

• Whether I compare them with other young people.

• Whether I remind them that one result does not define them.

• How I help them explore their options without taking over.

  
  

And sometimes, the most powerful thing we can control is simply our next response.

Not the entire future.

Boundaries can be an act of kindness

This is where boundaries and kindness meet.

We sometimes think kindness means taking responsibility for other people's feelings.

It doesn't. Kindness might mean sitting beside someone who is devastated without immediately trying to make them feel better.

It might mean saying:

"I can see how disappointed you are."

Rather than:

"Don't worry, it's not a big deal."

It might mean asking:

"Would you like me to help you work out what happens next?"

Rather than immediately taking the phone and making the call yourself.

It might mean allowing someone to experience disappointment without treating disappointment as something that needs to be eliminated immediately.

Brené Brown's work reminds us that clear boundaries can actually create more empathy and compassion in our relationships. When expectations and limits are clearer, we have less need for resentment, blame or frustration.

Perhaps the same is true of our relationship with responsibility.

When we know what is ours to carry—and what isn't—we have more capacity to be kind.

So, what's yours to carry?

Today, if you are a young person looking at results that weren't what you hoped for, you don't have to solve your entire future before you go to bed this evening.

Take a breath.

Let yourself feel whatever you feel.

Then ask:

What is within my control now?

If you're the parent, teacher, friend or colleague standing beside someone who is disappointed, perhaps ask yourself the same question.

You cannot take the disappointment away.

You cannot change the grade.

You cannot guarantee what happens next.

But you can listen.

You can be curious.

You can help them find the next step.

You can remind them that their worth is not measured by a number.

And you can resist the temptation to carry something that was never yours to carry in the first place.

This is mine.

That is theirs.

And right now, this is what I can do.

That can be a surprisingly powerful place to begin.