COREY STRONG

In the last year or so, it feels like everyone online has been talking about going no contact with family. The topic has been pushed into the spotlight and labeled a “recent phenomenon,” almost like it is some trendy lifestyle shift instead of what it truly is: a painful, long, and deeply personal decision many people have been forced to make for their own well-being. Karl Pillemer, a professor at Cornell University and author of Fault Lines: Fractured Families and How to Mend Them, found that in 2020, 27% of Americans over the age of 18 were estranged from a family member. 

For a lot of us, this is not new at all. It is not a fad, and it is not a moment. It is a choice rooted in years of emotional exhaustion, cycles of disrespect, and relationships that leave you empty instead of supported. When people frame no contact as a cultural trend, they skip past the truth that many individuals have spent years trying to build bridges with family members who consistently burned them down.

I know this firsthand, because I have been no contact with certain relatives in my own family for over fifteen years.

MY STORY, MY BREAKING POINT.

I shared some of this on the podcast during conversations about my cousin Tiffany and other hostile relatives. Growing up, I never understood the strange tension and hostility that seemed to follow me from certain relatives. As a kid, I couldn’t name it. I just felt it. The distance, the attitude, the quiet rage. It never made sense until I grew up and realized that so much of it had nothing to do with me at all.

It was jealousy.

Not aimed at me, but at my parents.

And it spilled over onto me without my consent.

Imagine inheriting resentment you never earned, carrying emotional weight that was never yours, and being expected to smile through it because “family is family.” For years, I tried to make it work. I showed up. I reached out. I tried to be the bigger person even when it drained me. Eventually, I had to accept that my peace mattered more than their expectations.

Letting go was not easy, and it definitely was not celebrated by others. People love to say things like:

“You can’t pick your family.”

“Blood is thicker than water.”

“You’ll regret it one day.”

I disagree with all of that. You can pick your family. In fact, many of us must. Family is not determined by genetics alone, it is built through trust, care, safety, and respect. And choosing emotional survival over family dysfunction is not regret, it is liberation.

THE CULTURAL SHIFT WE ARE SEEING.

What people are calling a “trend” is really a moment where more individuals finally feel safe enough to speak publicly about family trauma. Social media has given space to stories that would have been whispered or ignored in past generations. Mental health conversations are no longer taboo, and more people are understanding the impact of emotional abuse, manipulation, and chronic disrespect.

This shift is not about canceling family. It is about finally acknowledging harm that has been minimized for decades.

LETTING YOURSELF BE YOUR OWN PROTECTOR.

Choosing to step back from family is one of the hardest decisions anyone can make. It requires clarity and self compassion. It asks you to release the fantasy of what you wish your family could have been and accept what they are.

But most of all, it asks you to trust yourself.

If you are in a place where being around certain relatives drains you, harms you, or triggers old wounds, you are not wrong for choosing peace. You are not wrong for choosing yourself. Sometimes the most loving act you can commit is walking away from the people who refuse to stop hurting you.

You do not have to explain it.

You do not have to apologize.

You do not owe anyone access to you.

Your mental health is not a trend. Your boundaries are not a fad. Your healing is not a performance.

AN ENCOURAGING WORD FOR ANYONE NAVIGATING THIS.

If you are wrestling with guilt or pressure from others, let me remind you of something I had to learn the hard way: your life is your own. You get to decide who has a front-row seat. You get to decide who stays in your circle. You get to decide who gets to call themselves family.

Distance does not make you cold.

It makes you honest.

It makes you protective of your peace.

It makes you whole.

And if no one has told you this yet, I am proud of you for choosing yourself.