Respect Is the Minimum: Why I Had to Step Back from My Own Family

I never thought I’d be the one writing about stepping back from my own family. For most of my life, family was everything. I loved the idea of everyone together in the same room, celebrating, laughing, carrying on traditions. But life has a way of shaking the picture you thought you’d always have.

When I lost my mom, I already knew things would never be the same. That alone was heartbreaking. What I didn’t realize was how much more I would lose in the process.

After her passing, decisions were made—without me—that directly impacted my kids and me. Decisions that stripped away family holidays, birthdays, and the traditions that had always brought us together. Choices that left me facing the fact that my children would never again know what it felt like to be surrounded by family for the moments that mattered most.

I will never be okay with the fact that people I trusted pushed my father and my family away from me after losing my mom. That choice wasn’t theirs to make. And yet, it left a permanent hole for me and my children.

The Weight of Disrespect

At first, the pain was unbearable. I carried the grief of losing my mom on one shoulder and the grief of losing my family as I knew it on the other. It was heavy, overwhelming, and it fueled stress and anxiety that followed me everywhere.

But here’s what I’ve learned: staying in spaces without respect only deepens the wound.

Setting boundaries was the hardest and most necessary decision I’ve ever made. And when I finally stepped back, something shifted. My stress began to ease. My anxiety softened. For the first time in a long time, I could breathe.

Because deep down, I knew I was making the right decision. Protecting my peace and protecting my kids was not selfish—it was survival.

Creating New Traditions

I’ll always carry the ache of knowing I can’t have my entire family together in the same room. That’s a reality I never wanted. But I refuse to let that pain define every holiday or celebration for my children.

So I put on a brave face and create new traditions. They may look different than what I once dreamed, but they are ours. They’re filled with laughter, love, and joy because of the people who choose to be here.

And though the number of blood relatives around me is dwindling, I remind myself of something powerful: the people who want to be in your life will show up.

And mine do.

Choosing Family, Not Just Blood

I am blessed with incredible friends who have become more like family than I could have ever asked for. They show up—for me and for my kids. They celebrate with us. They remind us that love and support don’t always come from the people tied to you by blood.

That is a blessing I don’t take for granted.

A Note About My Mom

Sometimes the hardest part is wondering how much my mom carried silently. Did she feel the same heartbreak I feel now? Did she suffer through the dysfunction I’m only now realizing?

I wish I could talk to her. I wish I could hear her voice, ask her how she handled it, and lean on her wisdom. But for now, that’s something I’ll have to wait for.

Closing

What I know today is this: respect is the minimum. Boundaries may not heal the hurt of losing family, but they do protect the peace I need to live well and raise my children with joy.

And while I’ll always grieve what could have been, I’m also deeply grateful for what I still have—my children, my chosen family, and the chance to create a life filled with love, peace, and traditions that reflect us.

Because family isn’t just who you’re born to. It’s who shows up. And for that, we are blessed.

🎧 Want to hear more of the story? Listen to this episode of The Jennifer Kwapis Podcast here: