Guarding My Heart Without Hardening It

"Guarding my heart doesn't mean I've hardened it–– it means I've stopped enabling, started discerning, and handed the key back to God."

I've been called an enabler before. And truthfully? Yeah, I know I've slipped into that trap––caring deeply that I end up carrying what was never mine to hold. But lately, God's been teaching me something simple: letting people walk away isn’t cruelty. It’s wisdom.

Proverbs 4:23 says it plain:

"Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it."

Guarding your heart isn’t about stacking bricks into a wall and hanging a Do Not Enter sign. Nope. It’s more like having a good gate—one that swings open for the right people and stays locked when drama comes knocking.

The Guilt of Letting Go

I used to feel guilty about creating distance. My heart whispered, “Don’t leave anyone behind,” but my spirit knew better. I couldn’t keep letting people step all over me.

So, I started blocking—mentally, spiritually, emotionally, even physically if I had to. Not because I stopped caring, but because I finally realized: peace is expensive, and not everybody can afford the rent.

Here’s the tension though: I don’t want to block out what’s good, either. That’s the tough part. Some people wear masks so well that by the time I catch on, I’ve already given away pieces of myself. And when I finally pull back and heal, funny enough—that’s when they circle back. Only then do they realize my heart was genuine.

It reminds me of Jesus and the rich young ruler (Mark 10:17–22). The man wanted eternal life, but when Jesus told him the truth, he walked away sad. And here’s the wild part—Jesus let him walk away. He didn’t chase, bargain, or lower the standard. He loved him, but He respected his choice.

Forgiveness Doesn't Equal Access

Here's where I've learned: forgiveness doesn't equal access. I can forgive, I can pray for you, I can even wish you well–– but I don't have to hand you the key to my peace again. That's called wisdom, not bitterness.

And yes, some people will call it "cold, nonchalant, or distant" when you stop handing out free backstage passes to your soul. But listen–– even Jesus had circles. The crowds, the disciples, the three (Peter, James, John), and then just Him, the Father and the Holy spirit. Not everybody gets "inner circle" access and that's okay.

So Here's a Quick Checklist: Red Flags vs Green Flags

Red Flags:

• You feel smaller after being with them.

• They minimize or twist your feelings.

• They only reach out when they need something.

• You have to keep explaining basic respect.

• They hurt you, leave, then come back with no change.

• Your spirit feels heavy or drained around them.

Green Flags:

• You feel seen and valued, not just useful.

• They listen without brushing you off.

• They respect boundaries without guilt trips.

• They're consistent––same in private and public

• They celebrate your growth and healing.

• Your spirit feels lighter around them.

Key Rule:

If their presence costs you peace more than it gives you peace, that's not your assignment. (And no, you don't need a prayer circle or a 40-day fast to discern that one.) Just saying.

Guarding Without Hardening

Guarding your heart doesn't mean shutting it off. It means keeping the key in God's hands, and trusting Him with who gets access.

And if you're like me––an empath who feels deeply on the inside but sometimes looks distant on the outside––hear me: you're not broken. You're learning balance. Romans 12:2 reminds us, "Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind." That includes renewing how we love people––with wisdom, not just raw emotion.

Here's a Closing Poem: Forgiveness Doesn't Equal Access

I care too much––

they called me an enabler.

Maybe I was,

carrying weight that wasn't mine,

holding broken pieces

like my hands were the glue.

But I've learned––

If you reject me, I can let you walk away.

If you mishandle me, I'll release you with love,

even if my heart aches to hold on.

Because guarding my heart

isn't the same as hardening it.

It's drawing the line between love and access,

between caring and carrying,

between forgiving and forgetting.

I still care––deeply.

But I block where I must:

mentally, spiritually, emotionally, physically.

Not out of spite,

but out of survival,

out of protection.

And here's the truth I keep in my pocket:

Some won't see my heart until it's gone, they'll circle back when the wound closes,

realizing the love I give is real.

But by then, I've healed.

And healed hearts don't return to chains.

So I stand––

soft and guarded,

open but discerning,

forgiving...

but not foolish.

Because forgiveness is a gift,

but access?

That's earned.