Why Does Setting Boundaries with Family, Friends or Your Partner So Difficult?

I still remember what it felt like to ask my mum not to speak to me in a certain way.

It wasn't a dramatic confrontation. I simply wanted to be spoken to with kindness and softness, the way I imagined the white families around me having discussions that felt collaborative, or the way I saw TV mums deliver life-affirming, compassionate messages to their teens.

But asking for that wasn't received as a reasonable request - it was seen as answering back. As being disrespectful and forgetting my place.

Sometimes it felt easier to stay quiet and be shouted at than to risk what would happen if I spoke up, which would be more shouting and admonishing language. That doesn't sound that bad, but when it's frequent, it can feel relentless, and staying quiet is invariably the path of least resistance.

And even though I am learning more and more about my mother's trauma, and have compassion for her, I can still hold space for my experience.

Many of the clients and couples I work with describe having similar experiences. They know they need boundaries with their family, but the thought of setting them fills them with anxiety, guilt or even panic. They wonder, "Why is this so hard? Shouldn't I just be able to say no? Shouldn't I just be able to ask for what I want?"

The truth is, if you grew up in a family where respect meant obedience and compliance, boundaries can feel incredibly threatening.

What do we actually mean by "boundaries"?

When people hear the word boundary, they often imagine cutting family members off or making dramatic ultimatums.

Most boundaries are much simpler than that.

They might sound like:

• "I'm not looking for advice right now. I just need you to listen."

• "Please don't comment on my body."

• "I'm not willing to be shouted at."

• "If we're going to continue this conversation, I need us to speak respectfully."

• "I'm not discussing my relationship."

• "I'll let you know if I would like your opinion."

Boundaries are not about controlling another person's behaviour.

They're about communicating what you will and won't accept, and deciding how you'll respond if those boundaries aren't respected.

Why does it feel so difficult?

Many adults from immigrant families, and particularly those born in the 80s and 90s, grew up with messages about respecting elders that left very little room for questioning them.

Children were often expected to listen rather than be listened to.

Parents' opinions carried more weight simply because they were older. Decisions were rarely collaborative. Many of us learned that our role was to comply.

In some families, children weren't viewed as separate individuals with their own needs, opinions and boundaries. Instead, they were seen as extensions of the family whose behaviour reflected on everyone else.

And then, of course, there is the village mentality, where everyone knew everyone else's business anyway.

When that's the environment you grow up in, saying, "Please don't speak to me like that," or "I'm not ready to talk about that right now," can feel almost impossible.

Because somewhere inside, your nervous system has learned:

"I'm not allowed to challenge my parents."

"Good children don't say no."

"If I disagree, I'm being disrespectful."

These beliefs don't just stay within our family relationships.

Without realising it, they can follow us into our friendships, romantic relationships and even the workplace. We may struggle to say no, fear disappointing people, avoid conflict or find ourselves tolerating behaviour that doesn't feel okay because our nervous system has learned that speaking up comes at a cost.

When respect becomes one-sided

Respect is often spoken about as though it only flows upwards.

Children are expected to respect parents.

Younger people are expected to respect older people.

But healthy relationships involve mutual respect.

Unfortunately, ideas about respecting elders have sometimes been used to justify behaviours that are harmful.

Criticism. Shaming. Manipulation. Emotional control.

In some families, previous generations also experienced physical punishment that was considered normal at the time.

Those experiences shaped how they later parented their own children. And if there is no awareness of this, this way of being can often be passed down to Gen Z and beyond, the cycle remaining unbroken.

Understanding this intergenerational context doesn't excuse harmful behaviour, but it can help us make sense of why these patterns continue.

Your nervous system remembers

If every attempt to speak up as a child was met with shouting, guilt, withdrawal or punishment, your body learned something important:

Speaking up isn't safe.

That's why, even as an adult living independently, your heart might race before telling your parents, friends or partner "no."

You might rehearse conversations for days.

You might apologise before expressing a need.

Or you might avoid the conversation altogether.

This isn't because you're weak.

It's because your nervous system is responding to years of learning that conflict with people you love could have emotional consequences. And then that bleeds into other areas of your life too.

Boundaries aren't disrespect

One of the biggest shifts in therapy is recognising that asking to be treated with kindness isn't disrespectful.

Wanting someone not to shout at you isn't unreasonable.

Wanting advice only when you've asked for it isn't selfish.

Wanting your choices to be respected isn't abandoning your culture or your family.

Healthy boundaries don't destroy relationships.

They create the possibility for healthier ones.

And while not every person will respond well, learning to honour and express your own needs, irrespective of the disappointment and fallout, is often an important step in breaking intergenerational patterns and creating relationships built on mutual respect rather than fear.

It might involve a new normal or loss - let your therapist and your support network help you through those, whilst you stop abandoning yourself.