Boundaries – Silje Elsrud Yttervik

The Day That Got Away

A story on mead, migraines – and learning that joy needs a rest too.

Soooo first off, for as long as I can remember, Mondays have always set the tone for the current week. And this week, my Monday was packed with plans.
Good Plans! – You know, the ones that sort of filled up my notebooks and planners – making me feel productive before the week even began.

Instead, this Monday, I spent the entire day in bed.

A massive migraine had settled into my head the night before, at the same time as my body was dealing with the heavy stomac pains that comes along with my other «joys» of menstruating.
Now, mind you – neither of these things are new to me!
But it is especially painful when it arrives early on in the night, as it results in waking up in pain every hour – if I’m lucky enough to sleep at all, that is.

So it started with me skipping my physiotheraphy workout. And while I hate skipping it, I felt it was the most responsible thing to do. If my migraine weren’t enough, the fact that I had barely slept, and was on a new hormonal cycle was kind of like a perfect concoction for me getting a massive seizure. So I just stayed in bed. At some point during the day I ate something, then eventually fell asleep.

And somewhere between wanting to stop feeling aweful and wanting to get things done, the day quietly slipped away from me.

For a while I felt frustrated. Kept thinking about everything I had intended to do; everything I still hadn’t done – that would now have to wait.

But then, as I lay there staring at the ceiling, I realized something.
This Monday (it’s currently Tuesday), did not happen in isolation.

In fact, only a few days earlier, I had spent an entire weekend doing things I genuinely love.

On Thurday, my family and I sat at the dinner table playing cards and talking about plans for the summer.

On Friday, some friends and I gathered to make mead. I don’t know how many have ever tried it before, but there is something strangely satisfying about mixing old traditions with good conversation – in anticipation of something that will not be ready for months.

«Making Mead»
Image by Silje Elsrud Yttervik

Truly, making mead – like the brewing of ale or the production of wine, teaches patience in a way modern life rarely does.

Then, the following day I met up with my girlfriends for a prosecco lunch, celebrating the hostessess’ birthday.
As usual there was laughter, stories, and the kind of conversations that leave you feeling lighter than once you arrive. Some of my girlfriends brought their babies, others were highly pregnant.

For three days straight I spent my time feeling happy and having fun with other people I love and cherish.

But in a way – perhaps that was the problem. Not the love, the fun and the happiness, mind you – but the fact that all of these things also costs energy.

For many of us (disabled or not), energy is not a limitless resource. It is a budget.
Except, unlike with money, you cannot just borrow more when you run out.

Looking back at it now, I realized that despite packing my weekend with things that filled my heart, I forgot to leave enough room for recovery afterwards.
Because I’d spent time with people, talked, laughed, travelled, socialized and enjoyed myself immensely.
And afterwards, my body sent me the invoice.

This is not to say that I did anything wrong!
But even joyfyl, beautiful things require energy. And I think this is one of the strangest parts of living with illness.

Because, the word often talks about rest, as if it’s something you earn after hard work. But for many disabled people, rest is not a reward.
Rather, it is a form of maintenance that might lead to massive consequences when you attempt to skip it.

Thus, sometimes the most important thing we can do, is to scedule recovery the same way we sedule everything else.

Lately, I have realized that I need at least two days each week where very little is expected of me.
This means;
– days without appointments
– without social obligations
– without projects

Days where I can simply exist.
As my body functions ten times better when I respects it’s limits rather than argue against them.

So, as today is Tuesday – I can easily say that yesterday was not the productive Monday I had planned. But it can still function as a practical one.
As a reminder that a good life is not built only from the things we are able to do – but also from the space in between them, as we learn who we are. And what we need.

Sometimes the most productive thing a disabled body can do, is to survive the day withouth making tomorrow even worse.
– Silje Elsrud Yttervik

______________________________________

A small task for you, reader…

This week, write down one thing that made you smile.
This does not have to be a productive thing,
nor an impressive thing.
Just something you smiled at 🙂

Then take the time to remind yourself;

A good life is built from moments, not milestones.

– Silje

When «Taboo» Becomes Toxic; The Fetishization of Disabled Bodies Online

Ableism is not just about hatred – sometimes it’s about desire.»
– Andrew Gurza, disability activist

The Hidden Danger Behind «Desire»
Lately, there’s been growing discussions about a deeply uncomfortable trend: the fetishization of disabled people – especially young disabled people. Whether it be on social media, dating apps, and even in online communities.
Don’t get me wrong, disabled people have desires, wants and the potential for sexual attraction as much as anyone else – but what we are talking about here is not just about missplaced attraction. It’s about objectifying disability, and reducing a person’s identity and humanity to a single factor: their body, difference – their «otherness» alone.

«To be seen only for what makes you different… is to not be seen at all.»
– Silje Elsrud Yttervik

Le Monde recently published a piece, where several young disabled people shared how they recieved hypersexualized messages that focused explicitly on their disability. This could be all from prostetics, scars, to moving with crutches or in a wheelchair (LeMonde.fr).

These experiences, unfortionately aren’t rare – they’re part of a sinister pattern rooted in ableism, where disability is not fully acknowledged as part of a person, but fetishized as a spectacle or as a kink.

Why it’s So Harmful
Fetishization does more than ignore people’s boundaries. it often:

Reduces a person to their physical or visible «difference» rather than seeing them as a complex, full human.
Risks emotional and sexual exploitation, because their fetishizer may prioritize their own fantasy over the disabled person’s agency or comfort.
Reinforces a broader culture of dehumanization – where disability isn’t just misunderstood, but also eroticized in a way that strips away a person’s dignity.

Furthermore, research also backs this up. A study on disability pornography (PubMed) points out how certain forms of sexual content celebrate «vulnerability» and impaired agency in women with disabilities – often linking it to power and dominance. And this is not about intimacy – it’s about control disguised as desire.

Back in Time:
When Disabled Bodies Were Spectacle Before They Were People
To truly understand why fetishization cuts so deeply for many disabled people today, we have to look backwards – to a time when disabled bodies were not just stared at, but also sold as curiosities, entertainment or ‘marvels‘.

Throughout the 18th and the 19th centuries, what we now call a part of the disabled community was often introduced to the wider world through circus-sideshows, ‘freakshows’, travelling exhibitions, and wider cabinets of ‘curiositites’. And they were introduced as ‘marvels’, ‘oddities’, ‘wonders’ and ‘specimens’, just barely considered as people!

Many were born with congenial conditions, chronic illnesses, or unusual physical traits and differences – that medical science simply didn’t yet understand.
Some became famous in ways they never fully controlled: like ‘hairy women‘ with hypertrichosis, conjoined twins, people unusually large or small in stature, those with growth disorders, or skeletal/ visible deformities…
Thus, instead of recieving care or respect, they became objects of horror and fascination.
And this fascination includes fetishization.

Many had their bodies marketed as exotic, erotic, or monstrous – often all at once. Posters drew- and described them in sensual or titillating language, framing their differences as something to-be-staired-at, consumed or desired in a way that simply erased their personhood.

Because, what was fetishized was never their humanity – only their difference.
And this history is not as distant as we’d like to believe!
For centuries, disabled people were only allowed visibility in two forms; through pity or through fetish.
Neither left room for dignity, autonomy, or complexity.

So when disabled people today speak about the pain of fetishization, it is not only about the present moment. It is about the heavy, inherited memory of being displayed rather than understood. Of being commodified rather than cared for. And of being reduced to a spectacle – first in a tent – now, too often on TikTok and the likes.
It’s almost like the world has changed, yet the structures around us have not.

TheNorwegian/ Youth Perspective
In Norway, this issue intersects with serious gaps in conversation about sexuality, youth and disability. According to Unge Funksjonshemmede – a national organization for young people with disabilities, there is a notable presence of «sexualiserte hatytringer» (sexualized hatespeech) on social media (Regjeringen.no).
Their reports highlights how disabled youth experience negative attention that is explicitly tied to their disability: through objectification, pressure and even harassment.
In their campaign Sex som Funker, they further explore how difficult it is to address sexual desire, consent and safety when people treat disabled bodies as inherently different, or as a source of fantasy (Unge Funksjonshemmede).

My Own Reflection: Why This Hit’s Close to Home
I’ve personally thought alot about how visibility works, both in general – and while working on my MA thesis: Modern Marvels: The Heritage of Exhibited Disability.
And, for most of us (disabled or not) – visibility is about being seen and wanted, but not about being sexualized.
Because, when people fetishize disability, they don’t necessary see the person in question; they see a fragment of them – like a fantasy living rent free in their brain.

And it hurts too, to realize how many conversations around disability and attraction that is still rooted in power – not mutual desire, but domination or infantlization. And that makes me pause: for how can we talk about sex safely, when the opposite of invisibility can feel so dangerous?

Reclaiming Our Sexuality
But there is hope. And there is power within us.
Many disabled activists, have long fought to reclaim both narrative, desire and agency. People like Andrew Gurza, who started the hashtag #DisabledPeopleAreHot – not as a fetish, but as a declaration: Yes, our bodies are valid, whole and worthy of desire. Organizations like Sins Invalid push even further: by celebrating erotic, empowered, and disabled bodies – challenging ideas of beauty and sexuality in itself.

We can demand more visibility, and we can demand more respect.
Through consent, and humanizing desire.

—

A Task For Reflection
This week, I invite you to reflect (and maybe share):

Have you ever recieved unwanted sexual attention because of your disability? (Or been objectified in any way)?
– or have you maybe ever fetishized someone else’s disability?
How did it make you feel – seen? used? unsafe? powerful? mixed?
If you could speak to the people who fetishize disability, what would you want them to understand about you – not just your body/ mind, but you?

– Silje

Boundaries of Love: When Society draws the Lines

«Love is a force of nature»
– Annie Proloux, Brokeback Mountain

For about ten years now, I’ve travelled back and forth to several Norwegian film-festivals, hoping to find interesting, complex films, not otherwise shown in Norwegian cinema. One of these; Oslo Fusion, is a queer film festival taking place in early autumn – which has always felt like a sanctuary of strangeness and beauty.

Usually I devour at least six films in a week during ‘fusion’, but this year; with my epilepsy flaring I brought my mother and chose just one.
The chosen one; FREE, is a German coming-of-age story, who’s world-premiere was during the festival. It carried me away with its sweeping cinematography, gorgeous music, and a story so complex it refused to let me go.

More than anything Free is a film about love – but not the safe, expected kind.
It is about Sebastian and Kolja, two teenagers who meet and fall deeply for one another, only to discover that they are brothers.
The revelation shatters them, and us. Because by then we know their connection is real, not just through lust or fantasy, but something aching and alive, impossible to ignore.

The film forces its audience to ask: what happens when the heart breaks the rules the world has drawn around it?

The Law and the Heart
In turn of these issues, psychology offers one of its cruel truths:
children who grow up together rarely fall in love later in life,
as the bond formed between ages 0-10 shields them from desire.
On the other hand, if two close relatives (such as siblings or first cousins) meet as teens or as adults, the opposite can occur; connection and attraction blooms with startling force, and the brain does not know it should slam the brakes.

This is what FREE dares to show: that laws are clear, but emotions are not. What is illegal may still be inevitable, and the question hangs in the air: is it more harmful to rip love apart, or to demand that it survives forever in secrecy?

Forbidden Loves Trough Time
History is littered with romances declared «unnatural»;
Two men holding hands in public? Two women daring to build a life together? A black woman and a white man? A disabled person and a non-disabled lover? Hell, even unions across class and religion have been called dangerous.

And yet, time and again, society has been proven wrong. What was once scandalous becomes ordinary. What was once punished becomes celebrated.
Love pushes against walls until they crack.

Still, each age builds its own boundaries. The question is never does love exist here? But rather will we allow it to exist openly?

Why We Can’t Look Away
From Romeo and Juliet to Brokeback Mountain, from A Patch of Blue to Free;
we return to these stories of forbidden love because they strip love down to its rawest form: connection and desire that risks everything, devotion that refuses shame. They remind us that love is both the most fragile and most rebellious force we have.

We know, in our bones, what is to long for something that feels out of reach – to have our hearts caught in the tangle of rules, family, faith and fear. That ache is universal, even when the details differ.

Who Draws the Lines?
Every law is written by human hands, not by the stars. And still we must ask: who gets to decide where love begins and ends? Who is trusted to say this bond is sacred and this one is a crime?

When I walked out of the cinema, I was not only thinking of Sebastian and Kolja. I was thinking of all the boundaries I’ve watched people draw – around queerness, around disability, around who counts as «enough» to be chosen for love.

Perhaps love is never free. But it is always reaching for freedom

«For one human being to love another: that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks… the work for which all other work is but preperation.»
– Rainer Maria Rilke

A Task for You
Think back to what story of forbidden love has marked you most deeply? Was it a book? A film? Or was it a real person you once knew?
Write it down, and let yourself remember – not just the pain, but the beauty of love that dared to exist against the rules.

– Silje

Setting Boundaries: A Path to Self-Respect

Self-respect isn’t something that comes or goes with sucess or failure. It doesn’t depend on how other people see you, how productive you’ve been or how many times you stumble along the way. Instead, it’s considerably deeper ingrained; rooted in the constant and consistent determination of our boundaries. In the words of Dr. Henry Cloud and Dr. John Townsend:

«Boundaries define us. They define what is me and what is not me. A boundary shows me where I end and someone else begins, leading me to a sense of ownership. Knowing what I am to own and take responsibility for gives me freedom… Boundaries help us keep the good in and the bad out. They guard our treasures so that people will not steal them. They keep the pearls inside and the pigs outside»
-Dr Henry Cloud/ Dr John Townsend, Boundaries, 1992

Like many other self-preserving elements, I was taugth the importance of boundaries early on in my childhood. I didn’t know it at the time of course, but looking back, it’s obvious that the main reason for my massive self-respect while growing up, even when humiliated, disrespected and underestimated, is due to a stark perserverance of my boundaries. A perserverance still relevant today.

There’s particularly three examples of boundary-setting that have been implanted into my brain since I was a toddler; The first is an example I know many people talk about today, which is whether to ‘force’ children to give hugs to their grandparents. My own parents never did this, yet I learned to hug them anyway. Not because I was coerced or forced to do so, but because I did what most children do – follow the lead of their parent’s. So when my mum and dad was giving my grandparents and uncle/aunts hugs, I started following along. Without coercion, and with personal boundaries and atonomy still intact. These types of boundaries are not just rules, they’re part of values. Values that taught me that my body is my own, and that honoring myself is nesessary for further self-respect.

The second was my mother telling me – probably over 500 times that if my dad ever became violent towards her or me, she’d kick him out of the house with his head first. This is because not tolerating any form of violence is one of my mum’s boundaries. This is a boundary she has never changed, and as I’ve (unfortionately) seen acts of violence happen to several childhood friends and their mothers (by their own father’s), It is a boundary I’ve always been inclined to introduce.

The third example is one of my dad’s boundaries; the financial advice of not borrowing money to friends, as it has a tendancy to lead to arguments over money. My dad originally brought this up to me as a pre-teen, in a discussion over money-management, as he himself had experienced friendship-breaks when asking back the amount of money he had lent away. As the discussion seized through all the ways borrowing money to friends could go wrong, and the amount of anger that could built up if it was discovered that some unaccountable person was using this money ‘impractically’, I realized that having the boundary of just not lending away any money would make life much easier. And it certainly has – as this type of rigid boundary has the added bonus of weeding out all potential ‘friends’ who’s only with you to take something from you. As a result I’ve never borrowed anyone any money, and I make it a point to tell people this when they first get to know me. After all, if you stand firm in a rigid boundary – and won’t let yourself be manipulated by people interested in getting something from you, they’ll eventually leave as it’s nothing to gain.

In regards to this last example, however, I would like to add an important factor; not borrowing away any money, does not mean that you can’t be generous. I personally think generosity is an important trait of having a good character, and tend to give things away quite freely and frequently. But giving something away is different from borrowing, and leads to people being able to choose to who – and how often they wish to do so. I much rather prefer this, as I can be generous to someone one time, but will only be generous to said someone several times, if this generosity goes both ways. And if it doesn’t, I will simply count my losses and move on.

Fast forward to adulthood. I’ve lost opportunities, ended friendships, made unpopular decisions – but one thing I’ve never lost is my self respect. Why? Because I didn’t give away any of my boundaries. Like I tell most potential romantic partners, they only get one chance with me – blow it by being unfaithful, abusive, untruthful or coersive – no thanks! Say you’ll do one thing, then do something else? Nope, adieu! If someone does not respect me, or chooses to betray me one way or another – I simply walk away.

The same goes for friendships. If you do not respect me – or yourself enough to be honest with me, only to then talk smack about me behind my back and lie to my face when asked about it; its not a friendship worth having. A few people have crossed minor boundaries, and I’ve accepted their apologies as I believe them to be genuine. However, those few people this is referring to, know that they will forever exist in limbo – where one other wrong boundary-crossing is enough for me to walk away from them.

This though process only exists however, as my boundaries are very strong, very obvious and very clear – and I communicate them quite ‘frank’ to everyone. Because, boundaries are not just about saying «no» to certain people or certain things; they’re also about saying «yes» to yourself – to your own values, morals, energy, time and what you believe is right. They’re how people stay grounded, especially when life gets a little shaky.

Some people think boundaries are walls meant to keep people out. I instead choose to see them as doors that determine who you choose to let in. Or; they don’t shut the world out, they invite in only what aligns. They’re not about control, but rather about clarity. Every time I uphold a boundary, I remind myself that I matter to me. That I don’t need to be liked by everyone. That my worth isn’t up for negotiation. And this has given me something no job title, or person ever could; peace of mind. And if I’m being completelty honest, I often get the impression that I have more self-respect than anyone I know – not because I think I’m better, but because I was taught, from the beginning to honor the space around and within me.

So, if I could give one piece of advice to anyone struggling with self-respect, it would be this; check your boundaries. Where are you saying yes, when you mean no? Where are you betraying your own values just to avoid discomfort?
Self-respect isn’t loud. It’s quiet, steady and deeply powerful. It show’s up every time you choose yourself – not out of ego, but out of integrity.
Because boundaries are not barriers. They are bridges – to a life you can live with your head held high, even when things fall apart.

Daring to set boundaries is about having the courage to love ourselves, even when we risk dissapointing others»
– Brene Brown, from «The Gifts of Imperfection«

Embracing Authenticity, with a hint of madness

As far as introductions go, I have never been particularly practical. Instead I tend to take the opposite approach; present yourself as either a) a complete madwoman or b) the biggest snob you’ve ever met, and let those who haven’t walked away in complete disblief enjoy your middle ground – which in most situations is as close to your authentic being as possible. So with that said, here I am . Due to the random fact of where my parent are from, I am Norwegian. I was born in 1991, at a time where the biggest argument around my peers, was whether you were a fan of Britney Spears or Christina Aguilera – Westlife or Backstreet boys.

In no circumstance were you allowed to be a fan of both – and in similar fashion; if you didn’t like either, you were considered equally strange. Now, basic pop- music aside, being considered strange – while definately hurtful, has never been a problem for me. Partially, as I realised early on that what people tended to think me strange for, were just simple self – preservation tactics. Tactics that I began implementing during my elementary school years, in order to get through days of constant bullying. Of course it didn’t help that much of what I was bullied for (such as freezing completely in the middle of conversation, only to ‘come back’ and not understand anything) were in actuality some of the earliest signs of my epilepsia diagnosis, it was just not examined as my teacher couldn’t stand me, and just decided that I was doing it on purpose. So self-preservation it was.

Now none of this suggests that I am somehow a wackjob with very nice clothes, however, I guess its just one of those rumours that came about. Firstly, because my first tactic of self-preservation was to remove myself from those who wanted to harm or bully me. As a result, I spent most of the ‘outdoor’ period in primary school sitting by myself at the entrance to the forest, talking to myself. Thus I became known as the girl who spoke to trees and sticks. Not completely true, mind you – but not completely false either.

Secondly, I have always been good at understanding people, often long before they understand themselves. Due to this, I’ve always found most people very predictable. This fact became quite well known during my elementary school years, as every time I openly made an assesment of someone or the result of someone’s situation, I ended up being correct. This resulted in me becoming some sort of «child psychologist» that people (friends and foes) would tell their secrets too, and ask for advice. Of course, a few years down the line, this made quite alot of the schools self-proclaimed «queen bees» highly anxious around me, as I knew all their secrets about eachother. Little did they know that most of their secrets, backtalking and rumour-spreading ended with me, as my epilepsia gave me a terrible memory, and most of the things peope told me, I had forgotten within the year.

Thirdly, whether as a girl or a young woman, I’ve always had an extremely high integrity. This has become so apparant any time I meet someone who lacks it, that they litterally repulse me. As a child this was very difficult, as it makes you seem a bit entitled to other’s honesty. As an adult however, it’s great. After all, If integrity is important to you, then anyone who lacks it, who behaves dishonestly – or who seems unable to be self-aware, sticks out like a sore thumb. Henceforth, any potential aquaintanceship with said person ,breaks off very quickly. If you simultaneously add honesty as another self-preservation tactic, whereby being completely open and honest about boundaries, expectations, and what you will and won’t offer in retun, you’re pretty much set. None of this will work however, if you’re not also honest about how you’ll react when someone tries to break said boundaries: «you only get one chance with me» is a motto most of friends are aware of. This does not mean that I cut contact at any minor incident, but rather that If you’ve proven yourself to be unreliable, dishonest or unable to take accountability for the consequences of your own actions, It only takes me one time for me to «clock it and block it» as they say these days.

So in many ways, my authentic personality is a mix of someone kind and helpful, yet also exessantly rigid. A high self- image, but with many tactics to keep it that way. On the one hand this can lead to a good balance between self-awareness and practicality. On the other hand, mixing self-awareness with rigidity can also lead to perfectionism and neuroticism – both equally exhausting. As such, the best way to counteract this, is to allow yourself the time and place to let go and let loose – and bring on some madness.
-According to Silje

We all go a little mad sometimes
/ Norman Bates, «Bates Motel» 1960