Why Family Still Pushes Your Buttons (And What To Try Instead)

Nothing makes us feel as we do when we gather with family for the holidays. Unless we’ve stepped decisively away from our families of origin, getting together with those who’ve raised us usually comes with a mix of love, anticipation, frustration, and maybe even some exasperation. Or impatience. Or anger. All the emotions are on the table when generations get together. Add the heightened expectations of it being “the most wonderful time of the year,” and it can be a recipe for not being on our best behavior (despite our best intentions).

What is it about our families that makes us feel like children, even long after we’ve graduated from sitting at the kids’ table? I remember visiting my dad years ago and getting into the most ridiculous arguments. It’s not the content of the arguments I remember (which shows just how important the subject matter was), it was my feeling of abject stubbornness, both to whatever my dad was saying, and also my brain going, “Wait, why are we acting like this? This is completely dumb, and we’re being a complete petulant thirty-five-year-old child right now?!”

We slip back into old behavioral habits around family because they’ve been with us through every developmental milestone. These are the people who’ve taught us to walk, told us to be nice and not hurt other people’s feelings, and weathered the high highs and low lows of adolescence with us. For the youngest of us, our families have known us longer without our fully developed prefrontal cortices than with them. Even though we’ve moved away, pay our own bills, and hold down objectively difficult jobs, old habits die hard on both sides of those interactions.

Let’s go back to those adults in our lives telling us to be nice so we don’t hurt other people’s feelings. Holidays are a great time to wonder whether they shouldn’t take some of their own advice. Perhaps not ask for the umpteenth time when you’re getting married or moving back home. Maybe lay off the political commentary for a night. Possibly entertain the thought that the way you’re raising your children is well-thought-out and not an embodied rebuke of your own experience of childhood. Our families were trying to do the right thing when they taught us not to hurt other people’s feelings: when we’re young, we’re emotionally and socially feral, and they were trying their best. The reality is, no one can actually “make us” feel a certain way. Sticks and stones will not break our bones, and every emotion we have is a hormonal cascade that flows through our body as a result of the thoughts our brain is generating about the situation we’re in. Mother-in-law commenting on how the dinner you spent all day cooking turned out? Somewhere between her comment and your rage, the thought “She’s so ungrateful,” or “I’ll never be good enough for her,” raced through your mind. When those thoughts are unconscious, it can feel like it’s her sniffing the roast that’s leading to your wrath. But let me take you through a thought experiment. Somewhere in the world, there is somebody who spends all day cooking a holiday meal, and when their MIL pokes at the mashed potatoes with a raised eyebrow, they think, “Oooo, there it is, right on time. Nancy’s judging hard today! Didn’t even get through her first glass of wine before the silent ridicule started!” They allow themselves a smile while their MIL’s fork scrapes the plate, maybe even feel some delight in their ability to predict the future. Same situation, completely different emotion. What’s the difference? Emotional adulthood.

Emotional adulthood is the idea that, because our own thoughts lead to our emotions, we must accept full responsibility for whatever we feel. Feel jealous when an older sibling gets a promotion? It’s not their promotion, it’s the thought, “I wish I had that.” Feel annoyed when your aunt comments on your weight? It’s not her comment, it’s the thought, “I’m not taking the best care of myself right now.” When we take responsibility for the thoughts that we allow to drive our emotions, we can meet any circumstance with grace and equanimity. (Or at least not white hot fury.) Think it’s too hard to catch the thoughts leading to childish emotions around the holidays? It’s way easier than trying to get mothers-in-law to compliment a meal, siblings to slow their professional ascent, and aunts to mind their own business.

So what does this actually look like in real life, when you’re tired, overstimulated, jet-lagged, and standing in a kitchen that smells like childhood?

It looks like pausing just long enough to ask, What thought am I believing right now? It looks like noticing the familiar surge, defensiveness, shame, irritation, and choosing not to outsource responsibility for it. It looks like letting other people be exactly who they are, while you practice being who you want to be.

Emotional adulthood doesn’t mean you never feel activated. It means you stop being surprised by your activation and you stop letting it run the show. It’s the ability to say, internally, “Ah. There it is. That old thought.” And then decide whether you want to keep it.

This is especially hard around family because the grooves are deep. The neural pathways are well-worn. Your nervous system learned these responses decades ago. But adulthood, real adulthood, isn’t defined by age, degrees, titles, or how impressive your job sounds at the dinner table. It’s defined by agency. By the willingness to say, “I am responsible for my inner experience, even when the circumstances are annoying, disappointing, or downright infuriating.”

And here’s the quiet upside: when you stop trying to control other people’s behavior so you can feel okay, you get your energy back. You don’t have to win the argument. You don’t have to correct the comment. You don’t even have to prove that you’re doing life “right.” You just have to notice what you’re thinking and choose whether that thought’s serving you or not.

That’s emotional adulthood. Not perfection. Not saintliness. Just awareness, responsibility, and a little self-respect.

A Gentle Call to Action

As you head into your next family gathering, pick one interaction (just one) to practice emotional adulthood.

When you feel the surge:

Name the emotion.

Ask yourself, “What thought is creating this?”

Decide whether you want to keep that thought or try on a different one, even temporarily.

That’s it. No fixing. No lecturing. No proving.