Saturday mornings growing up, my dad would be under the car changing the oil while my mom made a shopping list at the kitchen table.
If a neighbor dropped by unannounced, they were welcomed on the porch—but not automatically ushered in.
There were rhythms, rules, and lines that weren’t written down, yet everyone seemed to know them.
A lot of those “old-school” boundaries have gone out of style, but I’ve found many still work beautifully—especially in a world that moves fast and expects instant access to our time and attention.
Here’s what we can borrow from boomers to feel less overwhelmed and far more grounded.
1. Knock before entering
It sounds basic, but it’s a practice of respect.
Boomers didn’t walk into bedrooms, home offices, or bathrooms without knocking.
Today, the digital version is not popping into DMs, texts, or Slack threads expecting an immediate reply.
If you live with others, reintroduce a literal knock rule.
And online, knock by asking, “Is now a good time?” before you launch into a request.
You’ll get clearer consent—and often a better outcome.
2. Keep calling hours
Remember “don’t call past 9 p.m.”?
Our phones made time boundaries fuzzy, but they’re still essential.
Designate your reachable hours and stick to them.
In my house, my phone shifts to “Do Not Disturb” after dinner, and loved ones know to call my husband if there’s a true emergency.
Boundaries work best when they’re simple and predictable.
If someone forgets, gently reference the rule again without apologizing.
3. RSVP like your word matters
Boomers were big on committing and showing up.
Clicking “Interested” on everything has trained us to be vague, which creates resentment on all sides.
Answer invitations clearly—and early.
A short script helps: “Thank you for thinking of me. I’m not available on Saturday, but I hope it’s a great party.”
You don’t owe explanations. You owe clarity.
4. Host or split—don’t keep score
There was a clean rhythm to meals: if you hosted, you covered; if not, you offered to bring something or to reciprocate next time.
What made it work was tone—generous without obligation.
I like to say the plan out loud: “Tonight’s our treat; next time, let us come to you.”
Money talk can be awkward, but clarity prevents the slow burn of unspoken expectations.
Generosity is a boundary, too—it’s a decision, not a default.
5. Don’t argue at the table
Many boomers grew up with a no-politics, no-religion rule over dinner.
We can adapt that spirit for our era by carving out protected spaces—meals, vacations, and bedtimes—where hot-button topics and problem-solving are off-limits.
This isn’t avoidance; it’s containment.
You’re saying, “This relationship is bigger than our disagreements.”
Pick a neutral phrase to hold the line: “Let’s pause this for later—I want dinner to be calm.”
6. Return what you borrow—fast
From lawn mowers to library books, borrowing used to come with an internal countdown.
Returning promptly builds trust and makes it easier to ask for help next time.
If you’re the lender, set the boundary upfront: “No rush—just back by Friday because I’ll need it.”
When you make expectations easy to remember, people rarely disappoint you.
7. Protect quiet time like an appointment
Whether it was Sunday church, the newspaper, or a solo walk, older generations honored pockets of quiet.
For me, it’s yoga and meditation most mornings.
That time keeps me steady and kinder.
I schedule my quiet time on the calendar in the same color as a client meeting.
If a request comes in, I check the calendar and say, “I’m booked then—how about 11?”
No justification. Just a boundary.
8. Use the door—porch visits are a thing
A front door used to be a boundary, not a thoroughfare.
You could be friendly on the porch and still protect your space.
We’ve lost that nuance online, where everyone feels like an insider.
Reintroduce layers of access.
Friends might have your number, acquaintances your email, and strangers a contact form.
Different doors for different levels of relationship keep your life sane.
9. Say no without a performance
Many boomers were raised to be polite, not performative.
They didn’t offer a PowerPoint of reasons when they couldn’t help—they just said no.
Here’s a single, gentle script you can use anywhere:
-
“Thanks for asking. I’m not able to take that on.”
-
“That doesn’t work for me, but I hope it goes well.”
-
“I can’t do Friday. If timing shifts, feel free to ask again.”
Short. Kind. Final.
And if saying no makes you anxious, remember the wise line I highlighted recently: “Being human means inevitably disappointing and hurting others, and the sooner you accept this reality, the easier it becomes to navigate life’s challenges.”
Relief often begins the moment we stop trying to be disappointment-proof.
10. Keep family business in the family
Boomers could be private to a fault, but their instinct to protect sensitive information is still valuable.
You don’t need to process every conflict on social media or in the group chat.
Choose one trusted person, or a therapist, for support.
When I shifted to minimal sharing during a challenging season in my marriage, our conversations got more honest.
Let’s not miss this final point: boundaries aren’t about building walls; they’re about building clarity.
Boomer-era norms worked because they were simple, repeated, and shared across a community.
We don’t all live on the same street anymore, so we need to name our limits out loud and invite the people around us to meet us there.
When I forget, I lean on three anchors.
First, clarity is kindness.
Organizational researcher Brené Brown has popularized that idea, noting that direct, respectful communication avoids the confusion that breeds resentment (see Dare to Lead for a deeper dive into “clear is kind”).
Second, high-quality no’s protect high-quality yeses; if you struggle with this at work, Bruce Tulgan’s piece in Harvard Business Review offers practical scripts and timing tips that help you say no without damaging relationships.
And third, health experts routinely remind us that boundaries reduce burnout because they lower decision fatigue and emotional overload; the Cleveland Clinic’s guide on setting boundaries is a good starting point for everyday life.
Before we finish, there’s one more thing I need to address.
If the word “boundary” feels harsh, you might be carrying a belief that taking care of yourself makes you selfish.
Reading Rudá Iandê’s new book, Laughing in the Face of Chaos: A Politically Incorrect Shamanic Guide for Modern Life (he’s the founder of The Vessel, which hosts the work you’re reading), nudged me to question that belief.
He challenges a lot of our inherited programming and invites us to listen to the body and the emotions that surface when we draw the line.
His insights reminded me to treat discomfort as information, not proof that I’m doing something wrong.
I’ve mentioned this book before, and I’m mentioning it again because it helped me claim the quiet, steady energy that boundaries protect.
Final thoughts
You don’t need to adopt every old-school rule.
Pick two that would make your life noticeably calmer this week.
Name them clearly.
Repeat them consistently.
Let the people around you adjust.
Boundaries are a practice, not a personality trait.
The repetition is the point.
Keep going—you’re allowed to make your life easier.
Related Stories from The Vessel
Just launched: Laughing in the Face of Chaos by Rudá Iandê
Feel like you’ve done the inner work—but still feel off?
Maybe you’ve explored your personality type, rewritten your habits, even dipped your toes into mindfulness or therapy. But underneath it all, something’s still… stuck. Like you’re living by scripts you didn’t write. Like your “growth” has quietly become another performance.
This book is for that part of you.
In Laughing in the Face of Chaos, Brazilian shaman Rudá Iandê dismantles the myths we unknowingly inherit—from our families, cultures, religions, and the self-help industry itself. With irreverent wisdom and piercing honesty, he’ll help you see the invisible programs running your life… and guide you into reclaiming what’s real, raw, and yours.
No polished “5-step” formula. No chasing perfection. Just the unfiltered, untamed path to becoming who you actually are—underneath the stories.





