I Am Not Responsible for the Tupperware Drawer

I Am Not Responsible for the Tupperware Drawer
By Starr Oleniuk

There have been many conversations in my house that begin this way:

“Why are there no lids?”
“I can’t find anything to match.”
Or the familiar accusation: “Did you take the one container I use every day?”

Often, these conversations start in another room, but somehow grow louder—until attention shifts in my direction, as though I may hold the answer.

Of course, this isn’t always about Tupperware. It could just as easily be laundry, mail, or dinner. These everyday moments often reveal something deeper: how responsibility is shared, assumed, or unconsciously carried within a family.

Over time, I’ve come to believe that boundaries have a place even in the most ordinary parts of daily life—yes, even the Tupperware drawer.

There was nothing in our vows 24 years ago about matching containers. Nothing outlining who and how to fold towels “properly” or where dirty socks should go. When my children were born, there was paperwork for names and health cards—but nothing assigning lifelong responsibility for household tasks.

And yet, at times, it can feel as though it has quietly become mine.

When I notice frustration building, I’ve learned to pause. Not to fix the drawer—but to pay attention to what’s happening within me.

Because often, the intensity of the reaction isn’t about the task itself.

It’s about something deeper asking for attention.

Understanding Boundaries

One of the most important shifts in my work—and in my own life—has been understanding that a boundary is not something we place on others.

A boundary is something we hold within ourselves.

It is a quiet, internal understanding of what is mine to carry—and what is not.

It doesn’t always need to be spoken aloud. It often shows up in subtle ways: in what we choose to engage with, what we step back from, and how we regulate our own involvement.

For example, I don’t call out from the other room, “Remember, I’m not responsible for the Tupperware drawer.” (hence the title)

I simply know it—and move forward accordingly.

At times, I may choose to step in:

“Who can sort the drawer and find the matches? Let’s throw out what’s broken.”

Not because it is my responsibility—but because I am one of the adults in the home, offering guidance when needed.

But beyond that, I am mindful of where my responsibility ends.

Boundaries and the Nervous System

In trauma-informed work, boundaries become even more significant.

Many individuals have learned—often very early in life—to over-function. To anticipate needs, manage others’ emotions, and take on more than their share of responsibility. Not because they wanted to, but because at one time, it helped them feel safe, connected, or needed.

These patterns can become deeply ingrained.

So when something as simple as a cluttered drawer feels overwhelming, it is rarely about the drawer itself.

It is often the nervous system signaling: this is not mine to manage.

When boundaries are unclear, the nervous system can move into irritation, resentment, overwhelm, or even shutdown—not because something is wrong, but because too much has been carried for too long.

A boundary is not harsh.

It is regulating.

It allows for the possibility of caring—without carrying everything.

What Boundaries Are (and Are Not)

Boundaries are not about controlling others.
They are not constant correction.
They are not silent withdrawal paired with growing resentment.
And they are not ultimatums.

Instead, boundaries are about choice.

They are the intentional regulation of our own responses—often decided ahead of time.

They sound like:

“They can figure this out.”
“They are capable.”

Sometimes boundaries look like action.
Sometimes they look like stepping back.

Both are valid.

The Discomfort of Change

For many people, boundaries feel uncomfortable at first.

There may be guilt. Anxiety. The urge to step back in. Thoughts like:

“It’s easier if I just do it.”
“I should take care of this.”

This does not mean the boundary is wrong.

It simply means your system is adjusting to something new.

A Gentle Practice

When I notice myself becoming activated, I return to a simple question:

Is this mine to carry?

I pause. I take a breath. And I choose my response—whether that means stepping in or stepping back.

This is the practice.

Learning to differentiate between what the nervous system reacts to, and how we intentionally choose to participate in our relationships.

Boundaries are not about doing less for others.

They are about creating more capacity—for connection, presence, patience, and even joy.

They allow us to relate to ourselves and others with greater gentleness.

And perhaps, over time…
someone else will figure out the Tupperware drawer.

Closing

If this resonates with you, you’re not alone.

Many people find themselves carrying more than they need to—within relationships, families, and their internal world.

In my work, I support individuals in gently understanding these patterns, developing practical tools, and creating space for more grounded and sustainable ways of living.

Whether through one-on-one sessions or small group work, the focus remains the same: helping you feel more regulated, more supported, and more connected to yourself.

If you’re curious about working together, you are welcome to reach out.