I spent hours trying to psych myself up to record this episode.
There’s no way TO psych yourself up for something like this. You just… hit record and hope your heart doesn’t beat out of your chest.
But I’m doing it anyway. Because this matters.
If you follow me on Instagram, you might have seen me touch on this topic briefly. Two or three minutes in stories, barely scratching the surface. But there’s a conversation happening right now on the internet that gets me incredibly fired up.
People saying things like: “Being estranged from your family is just trendy right now.” Or: “Everyone’s trying to disintegrate the concept of family. It’s cool not to care about your family anymore.”
And I need you to understand something:
Nobody is doing this for attention. Nobody is doing this because it’s trendy.
If you’ve taken steps to distance yourself from your family, to set boundaries, to go no contact… you’re doing it because it’s one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do. You’re doing it because for the first time in your life, you’ve decided that YOU are going to protect yourself. That YOU are going to make yourself feel safe.
Because nobody else did.
I get why people are frustrated when they see these conversations. If the system is working for you, if “family is everything” feels like a universal truth, it’s uncomfortable to imagine that not everyone has the same experience.
But here’s what I need you to hear:
Two truths can exist at once.
Family can be everything for some people. A source of unconditional love and safety and belonging.
And for others? Family can be the source of the deepest harm they’ve ever experienced.
Both are true. And the people who can hold both truths simultaneously become the safest people in the room.
This episode is my story. It’s raw and uncomfortable and honestly, I’m terrified to share it. But if you’ve ever felt like the “family is everything” narrative doesn’t fit your reality… if you’ve ever felt ashamed because your experience doesn’t match what everyone tells you it should be…
I need you to know you’re not alone.
The Score That Changes Everything
There’s something called the ACE study. ACE stands for Adverse Childhood Experiences.
It’s 10 questions. They seem broad, almost vague. But they do exactly what they’re supposed to do.
Your score is out of 10. Most people (57.8%) have one ACE. Just one marker of some adverse moment in their childhood.
21% of people have three or more.
Anything over four is considered high risk.
My score is six.
If you’ve never heard of the ACE test, that’s actually a good thing. It means you’ve never said something to a doctor or therapist that triggered their “spidey senses.” But for those of us with high scores, it comes up a lot.
Recently, I switched doctors. We’re going through my medical history. Family history of cancer, disease, all the standard questions. And at a certain point, the doctor looks at me and asks: “Have you ever taken the ACE test?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I don’t remember my number, but it’s pretty high.”
And I moved on. Because what else is there to say?
But after that appointment, I decided to retake the test. And there it was: six.
Here’s what the CDC says about an ACE score of six or higher:
Your lifespan could be shortened by 20 years. You’re at higher risk for addiction, mental illness, chronic health problems, economic instability. The more ACEs you have, the higher the risk that you’ll repeat the same patterns you grew up with.
This is the lens through which doctors and therapists view everything about my health now. Mental health. Gut health. Physical health. All of it.
And that’s about all I’m going to say about what actually happened to me as a kid.
Not because I’m hiding. But because the specifics don’t matter as much as what it felt like.
Living Two Lives (And Not Knowing It)
When you grow up in a home with abuse or neglect, you think it’s normal.
At least I did.
I thought everyone’s home was like mine. When I went to friends’ houses, it felt normal because at MY house, when other people were around, it was like we were living in a show. We acted differently when people were there.
Nobody would do the things they did when we were alone.
So when I went to someone else’s house, I assumed the same thing was happening. They were performing for me. And when I left, it probably went back to something similar to what I experienced.
I’m sure some of my friends had things that weren’t great in their childhoods. But I’ve come to find out it wasn’t the same extreme.
The older I got, I started to realize that I felt differently with other people. When I wasn’t at home, when I was with friends or teammates or teachers, I felt… good. Safe. Seen.
So I leaned into those relationships.
I literally lived two lives.
At school, at practice, with friends, I had this great support system. People I could depend on. People who made me feel like I mattered.
And then I’d leave. And with every turn closer to home, the pressure of what I was about to face would grow.
I didn’t know that other people didn’t feel this way. I was a kid. This wasn’t something I talked about with my middle school friends. It was just my normal.
The older I got, I realized I didn’t WANT my home life to be that way. And since I was already a parentified child — responsible for way too much way too young — I assumed I could fix it.
So I put all the weight of fixing my family on my shoulders. From the time I entered high school until my mid-to-late twenties, I was convinced that if I just did something, I could get things to change.
But here’s the thing we don’t talk about enough:
Kids have no power.
The way our systems and society are set up, kids fall under their parents. What their parents say goes. Even if I had voiced things to other adults, even if they’d witnessed something and approached my family, my word wouldn’t have mattered. It would have been a huge fight for them to actually make a difference.
And that does happen for some kids. But not most.
Children are truly at the mercy of their parents because of the systems we’ve created. Because of these nuclear family structures where not a lot of adults are let in. And even if they ARE let in, they see the show. And even if they witness something real and approach the parent, in the end, the parent has the power.
I had no power.
I could cry and scream and fight and beg. I could hear promises that were exactly what I wanted to hear. And then wake up the next morning and nothing would change.
And there was nothing I could do about it.
I couldn’t leave.
This is happening to kids all around the world, all the time.
And these kids go out into the world where everyone is telling them: “Family is everything. You can always depend on your family. You should be spending time with your family.”
And the shame that exists when you’re a kid who has no power but all the responsibility to take care of yourself — and maybe others, maybe your siblings, maybe your parents — when you CAN’T do it, when you CAN’T change it…
You feel like it’s YOUR fault.
The Hole I Started In
I was a kid who was truly powerless. But I had so much responsibility.
And I felt ashamed that I couldn’t make things better.
Why does everyone else get to have this great family, and I don’t? Why does everyone keep telling me this exists, but it’s not my reality?
What is wrong with me?
I think everyone WANTS family. We want to belong. We want people we can call on our bad days. We want people who see us as our truest selves. We want unconditional love.
And that’s why I’ve worked so hard — mostly without even knowing it — to build my own family out of friends.
Because I see that those feelings are worthy. That family is worthy.
And I’m so happy for anyone who just HAS it. Where the systems and the societal messages align with your experience.
But I wasn’t lucky like that.
And there are lots of kids out there who aren’t. Who hear these messages and feel ashamed of themselves. Who have to fight a never-ending battle against mental health problems, physical health problems, addiction, economic instability… all while everyone around them insists they should just “work it out with their family.”
I’ve used this example before, but when I compare myself to other people and feel “behind” sometimes, I have to remind myself:
I started in a hole. Someone threw dirt on top of me. And I had to dig myself out first.
My friends who had great families? They started on level ground.
So if they’re ahead of me in some way, no wonder. Because I had to climb out of the hole before I could even START.
And that never-ending battle to take care of yourself when you started in a hole? It’s A LOT.
And then you walk out the door into the world and you’re met with pushback and shame: “Why don’t you talk to your family? It’s so trendy to be estranged.”
The fight back against that shame is exhausting.
So most people who’ve experienced this just stop talking about it. It’s not worth fighting the system when you’re already trying to dig yourself out of the hole.
Everyone stays silent. Nobody brings it up.
Partially because figuring out why YOU don’t have it, why the system doesn’t work for YOU, why these messages about family don’t align with your experience… that’s already soul-crushing enough.
But then to fight back and have people tell you you’re wrong?
That’s a whole other layer.
And that’s why I get so passionate about this.
Because all we’re asking is for multiple truths to be considered.
That’s it.
What Happened When I Made My Therapist Cry
I didn’t know my childhood was traumatic.
I really, truly didn’t.
Not until I made a therapist cry a couple years ago.
Some people know. Some people don’t. But whether you’ve said it out loud or not, if your experiences don’t align with the societal messages about family, you KNOW on some level. Because it hurts when you hear them.
You’re already fighting an internal battle with yourself. And then you have to go out into the world and fight it again.
So let me tell you about my friend C.
C has a great family. Nobody’s family is perfect, but hers is pretty amazing. And I adore them.
Over the years, I’ve shared tiny nuggets of my experience with her. Often without even really giving her full stories. Just… hints. Breadcrumbs.
And she listened. Probably in disbelief sometimes.
About six months ago, C was talking to someone. That person mentioned that someone THEY knew was going no contact with a family member.
And the person C was talking to said: “You just don’t treat family that way.”
Here’s what C said:
“If they’ve decided to actually take action on this, to not speak to their parent anymore, there is probably a mile-long list of reasons that has led them to that decision that they’ve never shared with you. People don’t just DO this. They’re probably heartbroken. And we need to believe them. It’s already hard enough without everyone else around them adding pressure that what they’ve painstakingly decided to do is wrong.”
When C told me this story, I cried.
Not because it was about me. But because she GOT it.
I’d shared my story in very small segments over many years. Segments that contradicted everything about HER experience with family.
And her takeaway was: Give more compassion. Hold that multiple truths might exist. Believe people.
She didn’t need to know all the details. She didn’t need me to prove it to her.
She just… believed me.
And THAT is what made her one of the safest people in my life.
What I’m Actually Asking For
If you’re someone who has a great family situation and you can’t imagine doing the things someone is telling you they’ve done — not speaking to family, setting strict boundaries, going no contact…
Please remember my story.
Please be a C.
Believe someone. Stop forcing these narratives. Hold that two truths can exist, even if you don’t understand it.
And if you have space? Offer it to that person.
If you have a great family situation, let somebody in sometimes. Let them connect with your parents. Show them you care.
If somebody tells you they depend on you, that they think of you as family, really consider: Can you show up for them in the ways that would require?
And here’s the thing: it doesn’t have to be some overarching, all-encompassing way of showing up.
Ask them: “What would you call me for in that realm? What does ‘I’d do anything for you’ actually mean to you?”
Because it’s probably not everything.
Maybe you’re the person who would drop everything and answer the phone in the middle of the night.
Maybe you’re the person who would use up the last of your budget to buy an expensive plane ticket to be there.
Maybe you’re the person who takes on the responsibility of being a medical contact.
Maybe it’s as simple as being invited to the holidays so they don’t have to be alone.
They might have really specific items. And those items might be exactly what they need to feel less alone.
The System Isn’t Working for Most of Us
I’m saying the system isn’t working for me. But honestly? I don’t know if it’s working for MOST people.
There are childless people out there who wish they had kids and for one reason or another don’t. And yet they’re surrounded by kids who — like me — could have used a stable adult. Even if it was just someone to eat a popsicle with in the backyard sometimes.
There are parents who are completely overwhelmed and would love a helping hand.
There are older generations wishing they had children or grandchildren closer, surrounded by neighbors in their 80s who are incredibly alone.
There are people who’ve lost a grandparent and wish they had that connection, living next door to elderly people with no one checking on them.
There are so many people longing for connection and belonging and love and support. But they lack the courage to take a risk.
That’s all I’ve done. I’ve decided that any risk wasn’t as bad as feeling as alone as I was.
It’s really not that special.
And that’s exactly why I built this platform.
There are a lot of people stuck in structures that aren’t playing out the way they want. Whether that’s as dire as my situation or as simple as an elderly person with extreme loneliness surrounded by people they could connect to.
It’s all just a risk.
You don’t have to be me. You don’t have to be at rock bottom or desperate.
(Though you might be, in your own way.)
But we’re trying to force all of this into a box. This “family is everything” box.
And I really do think that on some scale — whether it’s as intense as mine or as simple as being a new parent who wishes you had an extra set of hands one night a week — being a little more open-minded could serve a lot of us.
Multiple truths are happening. And taking some small risks to build what you actually need instead of what you’re told you should have?
That could change everything.
Permission to Build What You Need
I can’t believe I actually recorded this episode.
But I’m standing here being really proud of myself. Because this MATTERS.
We all just want to belong and feel supported. Lots of us, in one way, shape, or form.
We want to build a support system that feels good.
It doesn’t need to LOOK good. It doesn’t need to look how we’re told it needs to look.
It just needs to FEEL good.
And if you need permission to do that, I hope you give it to yourself.
I hope you hear my words and know that it’s possible.
My greatest hope with everything I’m doing is that however many decades from now, people are holding these two truths and building what they need.
I hope you all have a great rest of your week.
(I’m probably hiding under the covers right now with a massive vulnerability hangover. But I’ll talk to you soon.)
Listen to the full episode here.
