Part III — Before You Go: Preparing Your Nervous System & Planning Your Boundaries

There is always a moment, usually well before the holidays begin, when your body senses what is coming. It may be subtle: a tightness in your chest when someone mentions travel, a heaviness in your stomach when you check the calendar, a persistent hum of worry you cannot quite explain. These reactions are often the first indication that our nervous system is anticipating difficulty. Before the bags are packed or the logistics are sorted, the body is already preparing itself.

Many people believe that anxiety about the holidays is simply a sign of stress or mood. For those returning to families where antagonistic or dysregulated dynamics exist, it is a sign of memory—somatic memory. The body keeps track of experiences long after the mind has rationalized them. Even when no overt harm is expected, the body remembers the power imbalances, dismissals, conditional love, silent treatments, or subtle shaming that shaped earlier versions of us. That memory can create a sense of anticipatory threat long before we encounter anyone.

Gregory Bateson’s work in systems theory speaks to this phenomenon: individuals in a family or relational system naturally adapt to maintain stability. The nervous system “learns” the roles and expectations that kept us safe, and those adaptations persist even when we are adults who have developed new capacities. Returning home asks the system to re-enter its old position. If that position required silence, compliance, emotional labor, humor, or invisibility, the body will try to assume it again. Preparing for the holidays means acknowledging this deeply rooted pattern before you step into it.

It can be difficult to admit that visiting family requires preparation. Many people internalize the idea that good children simply show up, participate, and endure. The belief that family should be easy is a powerful cultural script. When our actual experience is different, we often blame ourselves rather than questioning the environment. But, as bell hooks reminds us, “To know love we have to tell the truth.” The truth may be that your family is not a reliably safe place for your full self. Acknowledging this is not disloyalty; it is honesty. No changes—internal or external—can occur without first naming what is real.

One of the most helpful starting points is clarifying your reasons for going. People visit family for a variety of reasons: connection, obligation, nostalgia, guilt, curiosity, hope. Some go because a particular family member is meaningful to them, rather than the entire group. Others go because it feels easier than trying to explain why they are not going. There is no “correct” reason, only the importance of knowing your own. When you are clear about your motivation, you are better able to make choices that support your wellbeing. You can hold realistic expectations rather than hoping that this time will be the moment everything changes.

Hope, by itself, is not a boundary. Hope without preparation often leads to disappointment. We sometimes imagine that our growth will automatically reshape family dynamics. But family systems are not always adaptive; many are invested in sameness. Bateson would argue that when one person begins to change their internal patterns, the system responds in ways intended to return things to equilibrium—even if that equilibrium is harmful. This is why you may notice old roles re-emerging quickly, even after years of therapy or growth. You are not regressing. You are encountering a system that expects you to stay the same.

Preparing for the holidays means recognizing that your internal changes do not guarantee external change. This recognition can feel sobering, particularly for those who still desire nurturing relationships with family. But it can also be liberating. You no longer have to perform emotional acrobatics in the hope of earning love. You can choose to attend knowing that the experience may be imperfect, strained, or limited. You can also choose not to attend. Clarity is freedom.

Once the reality of the situation is acknowledged, the next step is to consider how to support your nervous system. This begins simply by paying attention to your body—how you feel when you think about your family, the house, the rituals, or the conversations that are likely to arise. Some people feel anxious; others feel numb or detached. Some feel a strange mixture of excitement and dread. All of these responses are valid and meaningful. They indicate that some part of you remembers the emotional cost of these relationships.

Supporting your nervous system does not require complicated techniques. It can be as simple as noticing sensations without judgment, taking time to breathe intentionally, or reminding yourself that you are allowed to protect your boundaries. Many people find that connecting briefly with a friend, therapist, or partner before visiting family helps them remain anchored. The method is less important than the intention: to remind yourself that you have support and agency even if the environment is challenging.

Setting boundaries before you go is not about controlling other people. Nedra Glover Tawwab emphasizes that boundaries exist to help us honor our limits. For many of us, clarity around limits was never modeled. We were taught that closeness meant access—that family members were entitled to our time, bodies, relationships, and decisions. Tawwab notes that “You cannot set boundaries without knowing your limits,” and many adults must learn these limits long after childhood. Preparing for family gatherings means identifying what topics, behaviors, or situations are emotionally or physically harmful, and determining how you will protect yourself if they arise.

A boundary can be as straightforward as deciding you will not engage in discussions about your relationships, career, or body. It can mean choosing how long you are willing to stay, or deciding you will leave if a particular family member begins to escalate. A boundary is not something you need to announce; it is something you act on. You do not have to debate it, justify it, or convince anyone. The validity of your boundary comes from your need—not their approval.

Some people find it helpful to prepare specific language, but others simply need clarity about their own actions. A boundary is fundamentally behavioral: if an unacceptable situation occurs, what will you do? It may feel uncomfortable at first, particularly if you were conditioned to prioritize harmony above safety. But acting on a boundary is often the only thing that communicates seriousness. As bell hooks writes, love is not sentiment—it is action. When you take actions that protect your wellbeing, you are practicing love toward yourself, even if others are uncomfortable.

Practical planning can reinforce your sense of agency. This may include where you will stay, how long you will visit, and how you will leave if needed. Having transportation you control—your own car, a rideshare option, or a friend who can pick you up—can significantly reduce anxiety. It is not dramatic to plan for the possibility that you may need to step away; it is responsible. Many people internalized the belief that leaving is rude or selfish. But staying in situations that harm us is not a virtue. Planning an exit is an act of self-respect.

Another important aspect of preparation is acknowledging that multiple parts of you may show up. Many of us carry younger internal parts who learned to survive these environments. They might be afraid, compliant, or mistrustful. Others might be angry or rebellious. Rather than pushing these parts away, preparation means recognizing them and offering reassurance. You are the adult now; you are the one who decides what happens. This internal shift can be profoundly regulating. When younger parts know they are not responsible for managing the environment, they can settle.

It is also helpful to name the grief that may accompany preparation. Preparing boundaries can make the loss more visible. You may realize that the family you wish for does not exist. You may wish the people you love were capable of deeper responsiveness or care. You may still hope they will change, even if part of you knows they won’t. Grief is not a sign that you are making the wrong choice; it is evidence that you are a person capable of love and longing. bell hooks taught that “Abuse and neglect negate love.” Grief arises when we confront the difference between love as it should be and love as we received it.

Preparing for the holidays is not about removing all risk. It is about maximizing your ability to remain connected to yourself in a system that once demanded your abandonment. It is about recognizing that you are allowed to protect your peace—something that may not have been permitted in childhood. It is about building internal and external support so you can engage with family relationships on your own terms.

In the next part of this series, we will explore what to do during these gatherings—how to maintain your center when boundaries are tested or violated, how to intervene on your own behalf in real time, and how to exit situations that become untenable. Preparation is only the first step. But it is the one that allows the rest to happen with much more clarity, steadiness, and dignity.

For now, recognize that you are allowed to approach the holidays thoughtfully. You are not obligated to enter family spaces unprepared. You do not have to pretend everything is fine. You do not have to surrender your body’s signals in order to fulfill someone else’s expectations. You have the right to care for yourself before you go, and you have the right to choose whether you go at all.

You are not the child you once were.You have choices now.And you can use them.