I never had a particularly close relationship with my paternal grandmother, but I understood that her life wasn’t easy either. I always made an effort to keep our connection alive and show her I was grateful to have her in my life.
This was especially true when my daughter was born—the second great-grandchild, but the first she could actually hold. One cousin had cut ties with our grandmother before her child was born.
At first, my great-grandma was visibly happy to have a role in this baby’s life, but over time, she couldn’t overcome her old patterns. She started manipulating and keeping score—tracking how often we visited her versus how often we invited her over, comparing how widely we introduced the child to my family versus her son’s. Eventually, she dropped the ultimate weapon: if the weekend didn’t go her way, she refused to see her great-grandchild!
"Fine," I said. That was four years ago. We haven’t spoken since.
As mental health has become a bigger topic in recent years, the question arises: what do we owe our family members? My answer is simple—we owe them no more than they owe us.
Whether blood ties or something else connects us, every relationship is built on mutual effort. We work on ourselves, on understanding the other’s needs, and on supporting them in the best way we can.
But when that effort becomes one-sided, I don’t believe we should accept someone draining our energy or joy just because we share genes.
I know my grandmother’s life was tough. I know she carries trauma, fears, and hurts, and that due to her age and circumstances, she didn’t have access to tools like therapy that I do. I don’t think she’s inherently a bad person, but I also don’t think that gives her the right to drag me—and especially my child—into petty, hurtful games.
I also know mental health is more important than anything, and sometimes the only way to avoid getting caught in someone’s web is simply not to play their game.
My daughter was too young the last time she saw her great-grandma to remember her. Soon, she’ll be old enough to realize she doesn’t know all her relatives and will start asking questions—about who her great-grandparents were, what they were like, and where they are now. What I don’t know is what I’ll say then. I just hope one day she understands that what I did, I did for her too. That she and I are bound not by blood, duty, or obligation, but purely by love. And that love is forever and unbreakable.
Opening image: nikkimeel/istockphoto.com
