Setting boundaries with family is something I wish someone had forced me to practice way earlier—like, tenth-grade earlier—because holy crap the amount of emotional real estate my extended family used to occupy rent-free in my head was insane.
I’m sitting here in my tiny apartment outside Philly, January 2026, heat blasting because the radiator only knows two settings: off and hellfire, drinking coffee that’s gone cold, listening to my upstairs neighbor do what sounds like competitive jump-roping at 11 a.m. on a Tuesday. And I’m finally at a place where I can say “no” to family without immediately spiraling into “I’m a horrible selfish monster” territory. It took… a while. And a lot of therapy bills. And crying in my car after hanging up the phone. A lot of that.
A Woman Defends Her Refusal To Switch Airline Seats To Help …
Why Setting Boundaries With Family Feels So Damn Hard (Especially If You’re American)
We’re raised on this weird cultural myth that family = automatic access to you 24/7/365. Say no and you’re “breaking tradition” or “turning your back on blood.” My mom still pulls the “after everything I’ve done for you” card and I’m 34 and paying my own electric bill.
I used to think setting boundaries with family meant I had to hate them or cut them off completely. Black-or-white thinking, classic me. Turns out there’s this huge gray area where you can love someone deeply and still not answer their 2 a.m. call because you have work at 7.
Here are a couple super-specific things that used to happen regularly:
- Mom calling at 6:45 a.m. on Saturday because she “just wanted to hear my voice” → me pretending I was already awake and chipper instead of horizontal and furious
- Aunt Linda showing up unannounced with Costco lasagna because “you never visit” → me eating stress-lasagna for nine days straight
- Cousin texting me screenshots of Facebook fights I wasn’t even tagged in, demanding I “mediate”
Every single one of those left me feeling hollowed out. Like someone had reached in and scooped out half my battery life.
Dr. Gonsalves & MentalHappy: Virtual Mental Health
(A clean, modern mental-health/community vibe that could frame the “gray area” of healthy relating.)
Dr. Gonsalves & MentalHappy: Virtual Mental Health
How I Actually Started Setting Boundaries With Family (The Imperfect, Cringey Version)
No cute Pinterest infographic version here. This is the messy one.
- I started with the world’s tiniest “no” First time I said “I can’t talk right now, I’ll call you tomorrow” and then actually didn’t call until Wednesday. Felt like I’d committed a felony. But the world didn’t end.
- I got a phrase I could say on autopilot “That doesn’t work for me.” Not “I’m sorry but…” or “Maybe next time.” Just flat: that doesn’t work for me. It’s boring and unarguable and I love it.
- I let the guilt come and sit next to me instead of fighting it Therapy taught me this. The guilt still shows up—big, loud, Catholic-adjacent guilt—but I don’t let it drive anymore. It rides shotgun and whines. I nod, say “I hear you,” and keep driving.
- I stopped JADE-ing (justify, argue, defend, explain) Used to write 400-word explanations why I couldn’t attend the 47th annual third-cousin’s-dog’s-birthday-bbq. Now it’s “Can’t make it, hope it’s fun!” and I hit send before I can overthink.
If you want some outside backup that isn’t just me ranting, these helped me a lot:
- Nedra Glover Tawwab’s book Set Boundaries, Find Peace — seriously changed how I viewed “nice” vs “kind”
- The Psychology Today article on family boundary setting — short and brutal in the best way
- Captain Awkward’s entire archive on family scripts — if you like long, messy, compassionate advice like I do
What Still Sucks About Setting Boundaries With Family
It’s not all sunshine and clean endings.
Sometimes my mom cries. Sometimes my sister gives me the silent treatment for three weeks. Sometimes I second-guess every choice and wonder if I’m actually becoming cold and unfeeling.
Also I still catch myself people-pleasing when I’m tired/hungover/stressed. Yesterday I almost said yes to hosting Christmas Eve 2026 before I remembered I live in 650 square feet and own exactly four chairs.
Progress isn’t linear, blah blah blah, but also seriously—it isn’t.
Wrapping This Up (Because I’m About to Burn Dinner)
Start stupid small. Send the text. Don’t pick up on the first ring. Let the silence be awkward instead of filling it with excuses.
