Over the past few years, I’ve often reflected on how our family and relative relationships work. Where do we keep getting stuck? What’s my responsibility, what belongs to my parents—and how much are we carrying across generations without even noticing?
I didn’t just stew on these questions—I actively worked through them. I attended family constellation sessions, often bringing my current struggles along. These experiences helped me see things differently and let go of old wounds.
For a while, I believed that once I understood the reasons behind the issues, it was my job to fix the family dynamics. It felt like an invisible weight on my shoulders: I had to bring order, I had to bring peace, because I knew or at least sensed what was really going on behind the scenes. But regular sessions showed me: this is not my responsibility. Still, when old hurts resurface (sometimes with new ones added), they cut deep. Even knowing they’re not aimed at me personally but come from someone else’s pain, it’s hard not to take them to heart.
When You Realize You Don’t Want To Anymore
In our family, the defining trait is that we can always count on each other, yet everyone lives their own separate life. One-on-one, relationships are almost always harmonious, but as soon as more people gather, harmony vanishes or feels forced and obligatory. I spent a long time trying to change this.
I longed for the kind of close-knit, supportive family atmosphere I saw in my partner’s family and experienced alongside him. But no matter how hard I tried, I had to accept: our story is different, and it won’t magically change.
There was a time when I searched for what I was doing wrong. I knew every relationship involves at least two people, and I was sure I had hurt others, even unintentionally. That’s why I regularly organized get-togethers—to keep the bond strong, especially between the kids. But I couldn’t ignore that these events were becoming increasingly one-sided.
After the most recent gathering, I dug deeper and realized: deep down, I don’t want to spend more time with them either. Not out of anger or stubbornness—but simply because we’re too different. During conversations, I often felt like I was walking on eggshells. It was clear that our views clashed on many fundamental things, and instead of feeling energized, these meetings drained me. At first, this realization brought some guilt, since the idea of a "close family" was deeply ingrained in our generation. But over time, I understood that being honest with myself matters more than appearances—especially when it comes to family.
Today, I Really Have No Expectations
Thanks to this insight, I no longer try to desperately hold together something that always falls apart. Instead, I let everyone live their own life, and I protect our peace.
I’ve learned that boundaries don’t separate us—they give us safety. That way, we can be close yet live our own independent lives.
The kids are growing up, nearing ten years old, and slowly but surely finding their own way. I trust they’ll keep the natural bond they have now, and when they’re older, they’ll organize their own get-togethers—independent of the parents and relatives.
For a long time, I thought peace would come when I managed to "fix" every relationship, no matter if it meant sacrificing my pride or pushing my tolerance to the limit. Now I know: sometimes peace comes from accepting that not every bond will be close, and not every wound heals without a trace. It’s a gift to ourselves to allow our relationships to be what they are—imperfect.
