Part IV — In the Moment: Holding Your Center When Boundaries Are Challenged

If you have lived in an antagonistic or emotionally unpredictable family system, there is often a moment during a holiday gathering when you realize the atmosphere has shifted. Maybe it’s subtle: someone’s tone sharpens, an old pattern resurfaces, or you feel yourself shrinking without knowing why. Sometimes it’s more direct—a pointed comment, an unsolicited opinion about your life, or an attempt to draw you into a familiar argument. Many people describe this moment as a quiet internal click, a reminder that the emotional terrain has changed and the body should prepare.

The body usually knows before the mind catches up. A tightness in your throat, a heat in your chest, numbness down your arms, or a sudden desire to flee are clues that your nervous system has recognized something potentially harmful. It is tempting to ignore these sensations to avoid making a scene or disappointing others. But those signals are the earliest form of self-protection. They help you orient to what is happening long before language arrives.

bell hooks wrote that “Honesty is rooted in the capacity to be true to ourselves,” and this includes being honest about what is happening in real time. Many of us learned early that our perceptions were inconvenient, dramatic, or incorrect; as a result, we reflexively suppress our inner experience to maintain harmony. This suppression may have helped us survive childhood, but in adulthood it often keeps us locked in outdated relational positions. Responding differently begins with accepting that what we feel is valid data.

Staying centered in the presence of boundary violations does not require confrontation. The first task is simply to notice. Once you recognize that something is shifting, you can begin responding deliberately rather than reactively. Gregory Bateson described how systems exert pressure to return to familiar patterns. In family systems, this pressure is often subtle—a joking tone, an old nickname, a conversation designed to remind you of your place. When you notice these cues, you may feel an immediate pull to regress into the role you played years ago. This is not failure; it is conditioning.

The goal is not to shut down this instinct but to recognize that you have more options than you once did. Acknowledging that you feel tense or uneasy allows you to pause. Even a brief pause creates space. That space is where choice lives.

In many antagonistic family systems, boundary violations happen through conversational habits rather than explosive conflict. A relative might ask intrusive questions about your relationships or gender, make cutting remarks under the guise of humor, or disregard your attempts to disengage. The behavior may be framed as harmless curiosity or concern, yet it leaves you feeling exposed and unseen. In the moment, you may doubt whether responding is warranted, especially if the harm is ambiguous. This ambiguity is why many people freeze; they cannot decide quickly whether something is serious enough to address.

A helpful reframe is to shift from analyzing the other person’s intent to noticing the impact on you. If your body is signaling distress, that is enough information. You are allowed to act based on your internal cues rather than waiting for external validation.

Nedra Glover Tawwab emphasizes that boundaries are not requests—they are limits. The boundary itself is not what you say; it is what you do when a limit is crossed. For example, if someone asks you about your personal life in ways that feel invasive, you do not need to justify your discomfort. You can simply decline to engage. A boundary might look like excusing yourself to get a drink, stepping outside for air, or joining another conversation. These choices are not dramatic; they are acts of self-governance.

One of the most challenging aspects of boundary-holding is the internal pressure to stay polite. Many of us were conditioned to prioritize others’ comfort above our own. In antagonistic systems, politeness often functions as a control mechanism. The expectation to remain agreeable can be stronger than the desire to feel safe. This is particularly true for people socialized into caretaking roles, where emotional labor is demanded rather than requested. Holding a boundary may feel rude, even when it is necessary.

It can help to remember that politeness is a social tool, not a moral principle. You are not obligated to sacrifice your self-respect in order to appear pleasant. bell hooks reminds us that love must be rooted in care, respect, and responsibility; interactions that violate these principles do not require your courtesy.

When boundary violations escalate, it is common to feel overwhelmed—either pressured to defend yourself or compelled to give in. In these moments, you may experience what psychologists describe as a collapse response: the body disengages because resistance feels futile. Recognizing collapse is important; it signals that your nervous system needs support. Taking a break, even briefly, can help bring you back into your adult self. Stepping into another room, going for a short walk, or sitting outside can give your body a chance to reset.

Leaving a conversation is not a failure of communication. It is a strategy. It gives you time to reflect, regulate, and decide what is needed next. Sometimes, the most effective boundary is disengagement. Not every situation requires explanation or repair. In some cases, responding will only deepen the conflict; withdrawing is the healthier option.

Gregory Bateson’s systems theory helps explain why becoming calm and self-directed in moments of conflict can be protective. When one person in a system shifts their response, it disrupts the pattern. The system may attempt to pull you back through guilt, humor, hostility, or minimizing. Recognizing these tactics can help you stay grounded. If a family member tries to reframe your boundary as an overreaction or a sign of disrespect, remember that this is an attempt to return you to an old role. You do not have to comply.

It is normal to grieve in these moments. Many people hope that setting boundaries will lead to understanding or repair. Sometimes, it does not. Instead, the boundary highlights the limitations of the relationship. That recognition can be painful. It is not uncommon to feel sadness, anger, or emotional numbness after asserting a boundary. These reactions reflect the complexity of maintaining self-respect within relationships that have not evolved.

If the situation allows, checking in with yourself during a gathering can help sustain your sense of agency. Many people find it helpful to periodically ask: How am I feeling? Do I need a break? Is this conversation worth continuing? These questions help interrupt automatic compliance. Even if you decide to remain engaged, you are doing so consciously rather than reflexively.

It can also be grounding to remember that boundaries are not punitive. They do not require aggression or defensiveness. They are simply tools for managing your own participation. You are allowed to decline conversations that are not safe. You are allowed to redirect or to respond with brief, neutral statements. You are allowed to leave.

For some, the difficulty lies not in asserting a boundary but in enduring the emotional consequences. You might feel guilt after stepping away, even when the interaction was clearly harmful. You might worry that you disappointed someone. These feelings are normal, especially if you were raised to believe that compliance equaled worthiness. Over time, honoring your boundaries becomes easier—not because others change, but because you learn to trust yourself.

There is also value in recognizing that some boundaries do not need to be tested. You may decide that certain topics or people are unsafe and avoid them altogether. This is not avoidance; it is discernment. Not every relationship deserves your vulnerability. bell hooks wrote that “abuse and neglect negate love.” If a person consistently behaves in ways that shame, belittle, or dismiss you, limiting your exposure to them is an act of self-respect, not abandonment.

When a gathering becomes too overwhelming, leaving entirely is a valid choice. Many people hesitate to leave because it feels dramatic. But remaining in an unsafe environment simply to avoid discomfort is not a sustainable strategy. Tawwab teaches that protecting your mental health is a legitimate reason to withdraw. You do not have to stay until things become intolerable. You can leave when you recognize that the environment is no longer tenable.

After stepping away—whether temporarily or permanently—it can be helpful to reflect on what happened. Not to assign blame, but to understand how your body responded and what you needed. This reflection supports integration. Over time, your nervous system becomes more confident and less reactive when similar situations arise. Agency builds on itself.

Being present during holiday gatherings while holding your center is not easy work. It requires internal clarity and a willingness to tolerate discomfort. It asks you to trust your perceptions even when others dismiss them. It asks you to remember that your worth is not contingent on compliance.

In the next part of this series, we will explore what happens when the healthiest boundary is distance—when reducing or ending contact becomes necessary. It is a path many people face quietly, often with shame or confusion. There is no shame in seeking safety. There is only truth, and the life that becomes possible when you honor it.

For now, know that acting on your own behalf—moment by moment—is enough. Your body is your ally. Your perceptions matter. You are allowed to protect your peace, even when others expect you to surrender it.

You are not alone.