The Boundary Layer - We Don't Play With Small Chips
The Boundaries That Protect You From What You Actually Need
An onion's outer layer marks where it ends and the outside begins. Clear. Defined. No confusion about what's onion and what's air.
But with humans? The boundaries get messy.
Week 37. I'm realizing that the boundaries I've been protecting might be the very things keeping me from the life I said I wanted.
The Two Boundaries I'm Wrestling With
Boundary #1: Monday-Wednesday belongs to my son.
Non-negotiable. Those are my days. While my wife works, I'm with him. Park time. Drawing time. Coquin cartoons on half the screen while I take a Zoom call with him on my lap. Searching for worms. Going to "pie park" (he calls spiders pies, and it's awesome).
I wake up at 6 a.m. Write until 7:40. Morning ritual. Quick beach walk. Affirmations. A little audiobook. First Zoom around 10am. Work a little. Then park by 11:30 because I don't want my son watching too much TV, even though he'd happily stay glued to the screen.
Lunch. More park. Exhausting him so maybe he'll nap (he doesn't lately, but I try). Then back to the laptop.
This is the boundary I protect. The time I refused to sacrifice.
But here's the truth I don't say out loud: At the park, I feel guilty.
I'm watching him dig for worms, and part of me is thinking about getting new leads. About the clients I need to land. About the hustle I'm not doing because I'm here, on the grass, with a two-year-old, a time that goes by in the blink of an eye.
And then I catch myself. His heartbeat against mine when he climbs on my lap. The bond I never had with my own father. The way he lights up when I'm fully present, not half-checking my phone.
If money wasn't the issue, I'd be fully embraced in this moment, knowing how lucky I am.
But the financial freedom I thought would come by now? It hasn't. And that gap between where I am and where I need to be keeps me split. Half present, half hustling.
Boundary #2: I just do design. Not marketing.
Except I keep crossing this one.
Client wants brand design. I'm excited. Then: "Can you also handle our social media? Run our ads? Track ROI? We need the full package."
And I say yes. Because I need the income. Because everyone else offers full service. Because saying no feels like losing the deal.
So I spend 70% of the project doing marketing work I hate—not the work itself, but the game. The constant algorithm changes. The intrusive tactics. The new best AI tool for video only engagement. The creative part—the work I'm actually great at—gets 30% of my energy.
I resent it before it's even done. I burn out. And I wonder why design doesn't feel good anymore.
Every time I say yes to work that crosses my boundary, I'm teaching clients that my boundary doesn't exist. And I'm teaching myself that it isn't real.
My Father's Voice
When I left the family business in 2013, my father told me something I've never forgotten:
"You can't do both. You either do freight forwarding or you do design. But you can't do both."
Then he said: "Aquí no jugamos con fichas pequeñas."
We don't play with small chips.
Like a casino. Each chip is worth $100K+, not $10. Every bet matters. Every mistake is costly. You don't dabble. You don't hedge. You go all in or you don't play.
I left the warehouse because I didn't want to live in that life. Friday nights til midnight. Grinding in a business that paid for everything but cost him everything else.
I wanted something different. I declared: "I refuse to sacrifice my soul for someone else's definition of success."
And if I'm honest? The treatment didn't help either. If there'd been an ounce of respect instead of being called names all day, I probably would've stayed longer.
But I didn't. And I've held that line for thirteen years.
But here's what I'm realizing now: I've been playing with small chips ever since.
The Small Chip Strategy
Music album in 2004. Another in 2011. Didn't go all in. Just tested the waters.
Tech company. Five and a half years as CDO. Had equity. Raised $4M. Risked my family for three and a half years with no salary—taking any job I could, burning through savings, and cashing in bad crypto investments just to pay rent. That WAS a big bet. And it dissolved anyway.
Design. Seventeen years. Solo. Good work. But never scaled to agency level. Never went after the $100K clients. Just kept it manageable.
Rebel Onion. Thirty-seven weeks. Consistent. Real. But no monetization. No big bet on what this could become.
I've been doing everything. And when I DID bet big—the tech company, three and a half years unpaid—I put my financial chips in someone else's hands. I bet on THEM, not on ME.
And you know what's wild? While I've been protecting my soul, playing with small chips, staying true to my boundaries... other people with less talent, more hustle, and better connections are outsourcing to AI, delegating everything, and landing hundred-thousand-dollar contracts.
I look at that and think: "I'm clearly doing something wrong."
But what if I'm not doing something wrong? What if I'm just doing something different?
Or worse—what if I've been protecting myself from the one thing I'm actually afraid of?
The Big Bet I Keep Avoiding
My father was right. You can't do both—not when each one demands your full bet.
Not logistics AND design. Not music AND tech AND design AND Rebel Onion AND fatherhood AND transformation work.
You can't play with small chips across ten different games and expect to win big in any of them.
I thought the variety was my strength. The integrator. Jack of all trades, master of my life.
But what if it's also been my escape hatch? My way of never having to risk everything on one thing?
If music doesn't work, I have design. If design is slow, I have tech. If tech dissolves, I have the newsletter. If the newsletter doesn't grow, I still have client work.
I've always had a backup. I've never been all in.
I've been so afraid of becoming my father—grinding til midnight, paying for everything but missing everything else—that I've avoided going all in on ANYTHING. I called it "protecting my soul," but really it was protecting myself from risk.
And maybe that's why I'm still barely getting by after the many years.
Because I've been so busy protecting my boundaries that I haven't made the bet —on myself.
The Boundary I Didn't See
Here's the real boundary issue:
I can't fully be present with my son at the park because I'm worried about money.
I can't hold the "I just do design" boundary because I'm worried about losing clients.
I can't go all in on ONE thing because I'm worried it won't work, and then what?
The boundary isn't between me and the world. The boundary is between me and risk.
I've been protecting myself from going all in. From playing with the $100K chip. From making the bet my father warned me about.
And I've been calling it "integrity." "Soul protection." "Refusing to hustle like everyone else."
But what if it's just fear dressed up as a boundary?
What If the Boundary Needs to Shift?
I don't have the answer yet. But I'm asking the question:
What if the next chapter of my life requires the bet I've been avoiding?
But I know this: the boundaries I've been protecting are also the boundaries keeping me stuck.
I wanted to be present with my son without money guilt. I wanted to do creative work without marketing bullshit. I wanted to refuse the soul-sacrifice hustle.
And I've held those lines. For so many years.
But the life I wanted? It hasn't shown up yet.
So maybe the boundary needs to shift. Not away from integrity. But toward risk.
Week 37. Still peeling. Still protecting. But starting to see what I've been protecting myself from.
Let go. Let God. Let the big bet reveal itself.
Stop protecting the chips. Play them.
The "Being Coached" Layer: The Alchemy of Risk
Fear Is the Gateway, Not the Wall
Without risk, there is no fear; without fear, there is no faith; and without faith, there is no miracle. That is the flow. Fear is the universal "stop" present in everyone, but here's the contradiction: what you fear, you attract and become—not as punishment, but to give you the opportunity to overcome it. As long as you live in the space of "What if my father was right?", then for you, he is. But his truth was his. Once you discover your own truth, you no longer have to be afraid of his.
The missing piece in your Renaissance journey is present-time consciousness. Multi-tasking is an illusion—you can only do one thing at a time, but you can learn to segment your attention. Right now, Joaquin is on your lap while you write this. That is the reality. AI augments your attention units at warp speed, allowing you to up your game in ways that used to take weeks. But here's your choice point: how do you use that reclaimed time? You have to decide where the technology ends and your presence begins—because showing up fully is what transforms fear into faith, and faith into the miracle of being seen.
Bookshelf Peeled - The Walls That Become Cages
In Set Boundaries, Find Peace, Nedra Glover Tawwab identifies three types of boundaries: Porous, Rigid, and Healthy. The realization for this week is that you’ve been oscillating between the first two to avoid the discomfort of the third. You use Porous boundaries when you say "yes" to marketing work you hate, letting the outside world bleed into your sanctuary. You use Rigid boundaries when you use "soul protection" as a wall to keep out the risk of a "Big Bet."
This mirrors the "Small Chip" strategy perfectly. Rigid boundaries aren't just for keeping people out; they are often used to keep ourselves in—safe from failure, but also safe from the harvest. Tawwab’s lesson is that healthy boundaries aren't walls; they are the structures that allow you to be 100% present. If you set a healthy boundary with your risk, you gain the peace to be at the park with your son without the guilt of the hustle. You aren't setting boundaries to keep life out; you’re setting them to let the big bet in.
Set Boundaries, Find Peace: A Guide to Reclaiming Yourself
By Nedra Glover Tawwab
Design Rebel: The High-Stakes Boundary
Inspired by my father’s advice, this week explores why you have to stop playing with small chips and go all-in. Directed with Leonardo.ai, Veo, ElevenLabs, Gemini, and Wondershare.
Weekly Inspired Insights I liked or found useful this week:
P.S. If this resonates with you, share it with someone. I'm dedicated to helping fellow explorers—or anyone who found this page—uncover their authentic self with humor and insight. We're all in this together, finding the courage to truly live from our core essence (or as close as we can get!).
The Rawness Layer: Experiencing Yourself Unprocessed
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