The Guilt That Comes With Setting Boundaries (And How to Release It)
Since I was young, I was my parents’ marriage counselor. (To be perfectly clear, I am not a therapist.) This was an unwanted role, and yet it was one I held for a very long time. And despite not wanting to know the nitty gritty details of my parents’ marriage, they were consistently given to me.
The first time I was thrust into this role, I was a teenager. I was sitting at my basement computer trying to connect to the dial-up internet so I could chat with my friends on AIM (where my other millennials at?) and my dad came down to talk to me about an argument he and my mom had had. There was no build-up to his sharing, no asking if I wanted to know about it, and no inquiring if I was busy; he simply started unloading his emotional baggage.
As I sat there absorbing what he was sharing, I realized my role within my family had shifted. I was no longer just the daughter; I was now my parents’ emotional sounding board.
I will never forget the silent expectation that I would drop what I was doing to give this issue my time, space, and energy. It didn’t matter that it made me uncomfortable (I’m not sure my dad even noticed) and it didn’t matter that I was busy with something else. It was clear that my parents’ current marital issue was more important than anything I was doing.
From that point on, this scene, or scenes similar to it, repeated. I was officially my parents’ confidant and unpaid therapist. It was typical for both of them to individually come to me to talk through their arguments, air their grievances about the other, and ask for advice (either implicitly or explicitly) on navigating their married life together.
Information was often dropped on me, word-vomit style, with no warning, like little emotional bombs. I can’t remember either of my parents ever asking if I had the bandwidth to talk before sharing intimate information about their marriage with me. And I can’t remember either of them following up to see if I was okay after sharing said details. Information was just dropped. And I had to process it on my own afterwards.
This dynamic cemented itself through my adolescence and into my adulthood. At times, it felt like my relationship with my parents was all about me emotionally supporting them. It felt like there was no room for me in the relationship.
It was beyond exhausting. And it was incredibly damaging to my mental and emotional health. I struggled with anxiety and depression. I felt like I was spread too thin and I rarely felt truly rested. I felt like I was constantly on the cusp of emotional burnout. Because my parents’ personal and marital issues took up so much of my headspace, I felt like I had little to give to my own marriage and friendships.
But, even though I knew how detrimental being in this role was for me, I delayed and delayed and delayed…and delayed setting boundaries with my parents around it.
I didn’t want to disrupt the way things had always been. I’d been in this role for almost 20 years; how could I step out of it all of a sudden? And I worried about how my parents would react. I worried what my role in my relationship with them would be if I changed the dynamics. Would my parents still want to be in a relationship with me? If I was no longer willing to be their emotional sounding board, would I be anything to them?
I knew setting a boundary would be uncomfortable. I knew it would be difficult. It felt easier to swallow my own hurt and trauma than to have the conversation necessary to set a healthy boundary to protect my mental health.
It wasn’t until I reached true emotional burnout that I realized I could no longer be in this role, no matter how my parents responded.
When I finally began to set boundaries around what I was and wasn’t willing to talk about with my parents, my guilt was enormous. At times, it felt unmanageable. I experienced constant racing thoughts and anxiety attacks. I had trouble sleeping. My internal self-talk turned negative. I felt like I was letting my parents down. I felt like I was selfish. I felt like I was a bad daughter. I felt like I was a bad person.
Now, after working on my own healing, I know that setting boundaries isn’t selfish. Instead, healthy boundaries are a way in which I can remain in a relationship with my parents, while at the same time, protect and honor my mental health.
BUT: the struggle in setting and maintaining boundaries, especially if you’re new to doing so, is real.
And, I now know: the guilt I felt is totally normal.
Feeling guilt after setting a boundary—whether it’s after saying “no” or asking for space or changing relationship dynamics that are no longer working for you—is completely normal.
But feeling guilty doesn’t mean the boundary is wrong.
So then, why do we experience that gut-churning, anxiety-producing guilt when we set boundaries?
As eldest daughters, our identities have often been built around over-functioning and meeting the needs of others before our own. We’re taught that our worth is directly connected to how much we do for others. We’re taught that we need to keep everyone happy and always be available for the people in our lives. We’re taught that it’s selfish not to bend over backwards for everyone, even when it costs us our time, energy, and mental health.
Take my experience for example. From a young girl, I was taught that being my parents’ therapist was a main component of my identity. I believed I needed to hold this role to be worthy and loveable.
When we begin to set boundaries, it can feel like a betrayal of who we’ve been taught to be. It's our eldest daughter programming having a meltdown because we’re rewriting the script we’ve been following for so long.
When I stepped out of my inherited role, my internal belief system was screaming that I was unworthy, that I was unloveable, and that I was doing something wrong.
However, the guilt we feel after setting a boundary is often a sign of growth, not wrongdoing. It means we’re stepping outside the role(s) we were assigned, but never wanted or agreed to.
These feelings of guilt are a sign we’re moving towards self-honoring choices. Our nervous systems just need a little time to catch up.
It’s important to remember that guilt isn’t always loud, like mine was. It can be sneaky too. It often disguises itself, making it hard to pinpoint it. Guilt can also look like: feeling selfish for prioritizing rest or personal time; over-explaining or apologizing excessively after saying “no” to something or someone; or worrying others will see you as cold, unkind, or unreliable.
However, once we understand why we feel guilt when we set boundaries and how that guilt can show up in our lives, we can begin to reframe how we think about boundaries.
Because here’s the thing: boundaries are, at their core, acts of love.
Boundaries protect your energy so you can show up in relationships with more presence and less resentment. They help you avoid spreading yourself too thin and trying to be everything to everyone. They allow you to choose where and when you give your time and energy, and who you give it to. So, when you do show up, you can show up as your full self, without feelings of obligation.
Healthy boundaries can also increase trust and respect in your relationships, even if they create short-term discomfort. Setting boundaries can be extremely uncomfortable and it’s likely you’ll receive pushback from the people who benefited from you not having boundaries before. That doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong.
Instead, your boundaries teach others how you want to be treated when you’re in relationship with them. They clearly outline what you will and won't accept from others, even when you love them. This can be hard for others to adjust to, especially when it means they have to change their behavior in the context of their relationship with you.
Let it be uncomfortable while you set your boundaries and others adjust to them. On the other side of that discomfort is the potential for relationship dynamics that feel emotionally safe and respectful.
At their heart, boundaries allow you to stay in relationship with the people you love, without sacrificing yourself in the process.
And every time you hold a boundary, you teach your body it’s safe to choose yourself. Every time you hold a boundary, you’re rewriting your eldest daughter programming. The more you rewrite this internal narrative, the easier it becomes to set and hold your boundaries.
Of course, simply knowing boundaries are acts of love doesn’t immediately erase the guilt we feel when we set or hold them.
I still struggle with feeling guilty when I set a new boundary or reassert an existing one. While it’s not as potent as it used to be, my eldest daughter programming still whispers that I’m doing something wrong from time to time.
That’s where practice comes in. Below are some simple, practical ways to release the guilt that tries to sneak into your life when you set boundaries. They’ve helped me, and I hope they help you too.
Name it: When you feel guilty, say out loud to yourself: “This is guilt, not a moral failing.”
Check the evidence: Is anyone actually harmed by you resting or saying no? (My guess is the answer will be no.)
Anchor in your values: Your time, health, and energy are non-renewable resources. Don’t overspend them.
Start small: Practice low-stakes boundaries to build confidence. Build up to setting high-stakes boundaries.
Practice self-compassion: Talk to yourself the way you’d talk to a friend in your shoes. Be kind to yourself.
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This week, I invite you to practice one small boundary without apologizing for it.
Remember: if you experience guilt when setting a boundary, it is not a sign to backtrack. It’s proof you’re breaking an inherited pattern.
And I encourage you to practice releasing your guilt over the boundary you set this week.
Remember: Setting boundaries isn’t selfish; it’s an act of self-liberation. It’s an act of rebellion against the role(s) that told you you had to earn love by over-giving.