Setting Your Boundaries Before The Turkey Hits The Table
A Survival Guide for Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving is in two weeks.
Which means right now, you’re either excited about gathering with family... or you’re already feeling that low-grade dread of impending doom in the pit of your stomach. It’s possible you’re feeling a bit of both.
If you’re in the second (or third) camp, I see you. I’ve been you. I’ve got you.
For years, I white-knuckled my way through family gatherings. I told myself it was fine. I performed gratitude. I made myself small. I sacrificed my own needs to maintain peace.
And every single time, I left feeling drained, resentful, and like I’d lost a piece of myself somewhere between the stuffing and the pumpkin pie.
Here’s what I’ve learned: You CAN show up for family without abandoning yourself. But it requires understanding your needs and setting boundaries (mostly with yourself) before you walk through the door.
The Codependency Trap
If you’ve been reading my work, you know I’m a recovering codependent.
And if there’s one thing codependency does brilliantly, it’s convince you that your needs don’t matter as much as everyone else’s comfort.
Codependency taught me:
Keep the peace at all costs
Don’t rock the boat
It was my job to manage everyone else’s emotions
If someone’s upset, fix it
Good people are flexible, accommodating, always available (aka - don’t have good boundaries)
So, for years, I showed up to family gatherings dressed up in what they wanted and expected from me.
That’s not connection. That’s performance.
And it doesn’t work. You know it doesn’t work because when you do this, you leave feeling worse than when you arrived.
What Changed for Me
The turning point came when my therapist said something that I secretly hated her for, but I’ll never forget:
When you accommodate everyone else’s needs at the expense of your own, you’re teaching them that you don’t matter. And eventually, you start to believe it too.
Ouch.
I knew she was right, and I sat there quietly wondering if I even believed I ever mattered in the first place. Of course, I didn’t tell her that; telling her would be too close to the truth for comfort. Telling her meant that I wouldn’t be able to blame my discomfort on those sitting around the table any longer. Telling her meant I’d have to take agency over my happiness and satisfaction, during the holidays and beyond.
The Three Questions That Changed Everything
Now, before any family gathering—especially the big ones like Thanksgiving—I sit down and ask myself three questions. These come from the framework I call Creative Destruction:
1. How do I feel (about this gathering)?
Not how I should feel. Not how a “good daughter/sister/family member” would feel. How do I actually feel?
Anxious? Dreading it? Excited but nervous? Genuinely looking forward to it?
Whatever it is, I name it. I don’t try to talk myself out of it or ‘grateful ‘it away. I just acknowledge: This is how I feel.
2. What do I need (to take care of myself)?
This is where boundaries come in.
Maybe I need:
A time limit (we’ll stay for 3 hours, then leave)
An exit strategy (separate cars so I can leave when I’m ready)
Off-limits topics (my marriage, my work, my body, my parenting choices)
A buffer person (someone I trust who can help redirect conversations)
Time alone to decompress before or after
The key is: I don’t wait until I’m overwhelmed to figure out what I need. I decide ahead of time.
These are boundaries I set with myself - they have nothing to do with anyone else.
3. Who do I want to be in this moment (situation)?
This is the most important question.
I can’t control how anybody shows up at the Thanksgiving table. I can’t control their comments, their opinions, or how they poke my old wounds. But I can control who I choose to be.
Do I want to be:
The woman who shrinks to keep the peace?
The woman who defends and justifies every choice?
The woman who has to be right?
The woman who stays calm and grounded, even when others aren’t?
The woman who leaves when it’s no longer healthy to stay?
I decide ahead of time. Because in the moment—when someone says the thing that triggers me—it’s too late to figure it out.
The Boundaries I Set
Here are some of the boundaries I’ve learned to set before Thanksgiving (or any gathering, for that matter):
Time boundaries: “We’ll be there from 2-5 pm.” Not “we’ll see how it goes.” A specific window.
Topic boundaries: Before I arrive, I decide which topics are off-limits for me. My marriage. My career choices. My body. My parenting. Then, when those topics come up (and they will), I have a script ready.
Emotional boundaries: I am not responsible for managing anyone else’s emotions. If someone gets upset because I set a boundary, that’s theirs to handle, not mine to fix.
Physical boundaries: I don’t have to hug people I don’t want to hug. I don’t have to sit through conversations that feel harmful. I can excuse myself to the bathroom, take a walk, or step outside.
Exit boundaries: I always have a way to leave. Separate car. Uber money. A friend on standby. I will not trap myself in a situation where I can’t leave if I need to.
The Scripts You Need
The hardest part about boundaries isn’t knowing you need them; it’s knowing what to actually say in the moment.
Here’s what I know—people are predictable! You can almost always figure out what might come at you in a gathering of people you’ve known your whole life.
Here are some scripts I use:
Pro tip (from my therapist): Say what you mean, but don’t say it mean!
When someone asks invasive questions:
“That’s too much to get into right now.”
“I don’t feel like talking about that just yet.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I’ve got it handled.”
When someone criticizes your choices:
“I think we see it a little differently.”
“I can see how that works for you. This works for me.”
“I feel good about my decision.”
When someone tries to start a political/religious debate:
“That’s a lot to get into today. I’d love to hear how your (kids, job, latest trip, etc.) are.”
“Let’s keep it light today.”
“That’s a complicated issue, and stressful to talk about.”
When you need to leave:
“We need to head out. Thanks for having us.”
No explanation needed. No justification required.
When someone gets upset about your boundary:
“I understand you’re upset. This is what’s right for me.”
Then: Stop talking. Let them be upset. That’s not yours to fix.
Practice Before You Need It
Here’s what most people don’t do: They wait until they’re in the moment to figure out what to say.
And in the moment—when your uncle says the thing that always triggers you, when your mom makes that comment about your body, when your sister starts the fight—you’re flooded. Your thinking brain goes offline. You revert to old patterns.
You have to practice these scripts before Thanksgiving.
Not just read them. Actually say them out loud.
Stand in front of a mirror. Say: “I’m not talking about that today.”
Practice with your partner or a friend. Have them ask the invasive question. Practice your response.
Yes, you will feel uncomfortable. Do it anyway.
Because here’s the truth: In the moment of stress, you will default to what you’ve practiced, not what you’ve thought about.
If you’ve practiced people-pleasing for decades, that’s your default.
If you practice your boundary ahead of time, you give yourself a fighting chance.
I practice my boundaries every single time before a family gathering. I say the words out loud. I imagine the scenario. I feel what it feels like in my body to say what I mean (without saying it mean…hopefully).
And then, when the moment comes, my mouth knows what to do even if my brain is panicking.
This is called preparation, people.
Practice your boundaries like you’d practice anything else you want to get good at.
The key to maintaining your boundaries is that you have to believe what you’re asking for is ok.
Take, for instance, discussing parenting with someone who is typically critical of your parenting and/or children in general. If there is a part of you that feels guilty about setting a boundary or feels like that person might be right, your boundary will not work, you will give your power away, and ultimately abandon yourself.
If you begin to practice the scripts above and discover something that you want is not sitting well with you, there might be something deeper going on.
What Love Looks Like
Here’s my favorite question, the one I’ve been asking myself for years: What would love look like in this situation?
Sometimes love looks like staying. Engaging. Showing up fully even when it’s uncomfortable.
Sometimes love looks like leaving. Protecting yourself. Saying no.
Sometimes love looks like setting a boundary that disappoints someone you care about, because the alternative is abandoning yourself.
Love for them doesn’t require abandoning love for yourself.
That’s the lesson I wish I’d learned twenty years ago.
Permission Slips for Thanksgiving
As you prepare for next week:
✓ You’re allowed to set boundaries with family you love
✓ You’re allowed to leave early
✓ You’re allowed to skip it entirely
✓ You’re allowed to say no to conversations that harm you
✓ You’re allowed to prioritize your peace over their comfort
✓ You’re allowed to change your mind (you said yes, but now you’re saying no—that’s okay)
✓ You’re allowed to be the “difficult” one if that’s what taking care of yourself requires
The Truth About Boundaries
Here’s what no one tells you about boundaries:
They feel terrible at first.
When you’ve spent your whole life accommodating everyone else, setting a boundary can feel selfish. Mean. Wrong.
Your family might act like you’re being unreasonable. They might be upset. They might accuse you of “changing” or being “difficult.”
That’s because you’re disrupting a system that worked for everyone else at your expense. And systems don’t like to be disrupted.
But here’s the thing: The discomfort of setting a boundary is temporary. The resentment of not setting one compounds.
You can handle a few uncomfortable conversations. You cannot afford to endure another decade of neglecting yourself.
This Year Is Different
This Thanksgiving, Walter and I will be at our family home in North Carolina with some of our combined six kids and extended family.
And I’m genuinely excited about it.
You know why? Because I’ve learned to show up as myself. Not the version of myself that everyone wants. Just... me.
I have my boundaries. I know my limits. I know what I need to take care of myself.
And I know that if something shifts—if it becomes unhealthy or harmful—I can take a beat and walk away.
But here’s what’s even more important to me: I’m creating space for our kids to do the same.
I didn’t have that growing up. I was expected to perform. To be pleasant. To accommodate. To make myself smaller so everyone else could be comfortable.
I’m not doing that to our kids.
If one of them needs to step away, they can. If they don’t want to engage in a conversation, they don’t have to. If they need to leave early or skip something entirely, that’s okay.
I want them to learn what I didn’t: You can love your family and still protect yourself. You can show up without abandoning who you are.
That’s the cycle I’m breaking. Not just for me, but for them as well.
That’s not being difficult. That’s being free.
Your Assignment
Before Thanksgiving, I want you to sit down and answer these three questions:
How do I actually feel about this gathering?
What do I need to take care of myself?
Who do I want to be in this situation?
Then, set your boundaries. Decide your limits. Plan your exit strategy.
You don’t have to tell anyone your boundaries ahead of time. You don’t have to announce them. You don’t have to justify them at all.
You just have to know them.
And then, when the moment comes—when someone crosses a line, when you need to leave, when you need to say no—you’ll know exactly what to do.
Because you decided ahead of time.
What boundary do you need to set this Thanksgiving? Share in the comments, or just let me know you’re here. You’re not alone in this. Leave a comment below…
Resources:
Al-Anon (for those affected by someone else’s drinking): al-anon.org
CODA (Codependents Anonymous): coda.org
Adult Children of Alcoholics: adultchildren.org
