Boundaries with a difficult mom
what worked (and what didn't)
Notes from Coree - June 2026
By Coree
Recently I had the pleasure of spending a weekend with a group of friends who really know me. The kind of friends who have watched you fall apart and put yourself back together and know context on your life that can only come from years of watching you live it. Being with them is a deep aquifer. We were chatting about a million important topics and settled into a conversation updating each other on the state of some of our historically difficult relationships. Sister-in-law's who lash out, brother's who offload responsibilities, tricky friends, and, for me, it's my mom.
"How's everything going with your mom," someone gently asked. "Ya know, I think I've landed on a good rhythm with her. It's not perfect but I've got some pretty good boundaries and it's not as hard as it used to be." "Whoa, that's crazy" (they know the years and tears I've spent trying so many angles to find peace in my relationship with my mom) "What are these magical boundaries?" Was the next question.
A few things before we dive in deeper:
When it comes to relationships, what is a boundary? You've heard the word and you know the concept, but I want to lay out my perspective because the word boundary as I generally observe it being used, implies something being enforced, a constraint, a level of protection. And for good reason. We often only explicitly work on boundaries when we're in pain in a relationship. That's definitely what prompted my boundary work with my mom; a place of deep hurt and waffling consternation. Yet, there is a different interpretation of boundaries I've come to rely on: boundaries as an invitation to have a certain type of relationship.
Relationship boundaries are all around us, many of them are imperceptible or culturally defined norms we don't even notice. For instance, recall your most recent trip out shopping. You wander around a store looking at the items and see a closed, unmarked door as you walk around. Do you think to yourself "I should open up and explore that space." Likely not. Instead we tend to perceive that to mean it's not a space we're allowed to go, or it's for someone else, or we currently do not have permission to enter there. And so it is with relationships: each has a door to enter of a certain size and shape made specifically for the person who would like to be with us and each space behind the door can be curated to show just what we want the other person to see. It is with these specifics in mind that we invite others in to be with us.
So while talking about boundaries often leads to establishing defenses such as what we will not share, who we will not see, and when we will not spend time with another, it can be just as useful to focus on the parts of our lives we do want to share with the people in even our most difficult relationships.
Back to my mom 👩👧
I think if my mom weren't my mom, our relationship would be pretty simple. Actually, it might not be much of a relationship at all given that she gaslights me, rejects me, blames me for not spending time with her and then ignores me when I do. She's a bucket with a little hole at the bottom - I can fill her up and fill her up and even when she's full to the top, praising me for giving her what she wants, that leak at the bottom drains it all out. For the longest time (like an embarrassingly long time) I actually thought it was my job to fill her bucket again. I spent years playing around with the right ways to fulfill her because certainly, if I could just figure out what she needs, I could finally walk away from this project. No door for her, no curated space, she wanted it all and I mostly gave it to her. If she were any other person, I'd have given up a LONG time ago. Do you have a relationship like this? One in which you imagine that "if this person weren't my ___ everything would be different."
Sometimes it is the roles and labels within the relationship that keep us confined. Mother/daughter, sister-in-laws, siblings, partners. All of these roles we play for each other come with societal norms, hopes and expectations, examples of others who have the type of relationships we want for ourselves, even people outside of the relationship chime in to push us back toward people who are hurting us. How many times did I explain how I was feeling about my mom to others only to hear them say, "yea, but she's your mom," which sounded like a hall pass for bad behavior. This is your mom, so you're stuck…
Some relationships just can't seem to steady and can leave you feeling resentful, stuck, or even fearful. These are the feelings that lead to the desire to create boundaries, and perhaps a smaller door.
Here's how I got started figuring out the size of the door (and where most of my clients start, too) 🔑
Rediscovering want ✨
I did not have a plan. I couldn't even properly identify how our relationship made me feel or what I wanted to change. What I had was a pile of feelings and no idea what to do with them. I had these bubbling wants: "I want her to like me." "I want her to not blame me for everything." "I want to just not think about her." "I want our relationship to feel good and fun and to be able to tell her everything." That's kinda what it was like inside my head.
A couple of things worth knowing:
Most women I know, myself included, have gotten really good at talking themselves out of their wants before they even finish the thought. We think, "that's not realistic," "too selfish," "too much." (My mom never hid the fact that she thinks I'm both of these things). The wants never get to do their job, which is to point you toward what you actually need.
And when you do start setting boundaries, the other person will probably not love it. Expect that. Their reaction might really hurt, like being punched in the gut or digging a knife deep into your insecurities. But the data point that matters most is whether or not these boundaries allow you to feel more like yourself, more able to show up for the life you're actually trying to live.
(Take a beat if you need to here, cause this point alone can feel contradictory to the notion that it is your job to make everyone else happy).
Big question: this tricky relationship you have, what do you want it to be like?
When I ask this question, people usually start by telling me the whole painful story. Then I ask again: "what do you want your relationship with ___ to be like?" And they pause. It's usually a pregnant pause where they try to formulate something mature and logical, but more often than not what comes out is an unedited, raw, emotional, complaining, indignant stream of consciousness. And I love it, especially if they throw in some choice curse words. It's exactly what I'd expect from a smart person just learning to want again.
My own wants evolved over time. At first I wanted my mom to understand and validate my perspective, to believe my experiences, to meet my vulnerability with connection. Later, when I realized she was in too much emotional pain to do any of that, my wants were more protective: I want her to mostly leave me alone. I don't want her to tell me all the things she doesn't like about me. I want to keep almost everything for myself, just give her a slow drip to the bucket.
Wants change, go figure. 🤷♀️
Next step: Extraction (get clear) 🧹
I tried to start with the big, emotional boundary work, but I found I couldn't think clearly about my mom while she was still doing things for me. Gifts, favors, help when I needed it. She was meeting some of my needs, just not the ones that actually mattered to me. That confusion made it really hard to see the relationship for what it is.
So I started extracting myself from depending on her. I paid for things myself when I could (like, even my wedding). Said no to favors. Kept time together short and in public. Not to punish her - to get clear. When she wasn't meeting any of my needs, I could finally see which ones she was never going to meet.
Then came the emotional piece. I practiced being vanilla, which seems plain and boring at face value, but vanilla is quietly complex. That's exactly what I was going for. "What's new?" prompted a sunny, surface-level answer. I got comfortable with awkward silences rather than performing for a reaction that never quite landed anyway. I stopped sharing the colorful emotional details of my life and stuck to objectives.
One thing I tried that didn't work: lying about what I was doing and who I was with. It felt protective at first but turned out to be exhausting and kept me more entangled, not less. So now I don't lie to her. Counterintuitive, but it's actually one of the stronger moves I've made. And it took years to get comfortable with.
I think I need a smaller door… 🚪
For a few years, I hummed along. The boundaries I had were working well enough. It was not a particularly fun or intimate relationship, but manageable. Then life got fuller the way it often does and what had worked before just stopped working.
This is actually really normal. Boundaries aren't a one-time decision; they're something you return to and redefine as life changes. What fits through the door when you have more capacity looks different than what fits when you're stretched thin and protecting more than just yourself.
For me, the moment of reckoning came when my mom reacted to news I was excited to share in a way that caught me completely off guard, even though, honestly, it shouldn't have. My mom has always had a way of finding even the smallest sliver of a downside and slapping it right in my face. I went back to therapy and laid out my mess. From there, I built a new relationship with her, new boundaries to make room for my new life.
Here's what shifted in my thinking 💡
Energy ⚡
This one started as anger for me. I was mad at her, maybe for the first time.
My mom would send a provoking text and I'd think, "I don't have time for her feelings. I have a toddler, an infant, a husband struggling with his own mental health, it's covid and I have no escape. She has no idea what my life is like. She's not asking. She's not soothing. I need energy and I don't have a drop to waste."
That anger was actually useful information. It told me clearly and loudly that she was a drain, not a plugin.
You probably already know who in your life costs you energy and who gives it back. The harder question is what you're going to do with that information. You are not an infinite source. The people and things that get your energy are a choice, even when it doesn't feel like one.
Meaning 💛
One of the best ways to get yourself dedicated to this work is to have a real reason. Something meaningful enough that the difficulty of creating and maintaining a boundary feels worth it compared to things staying the way they are now.
Your reason could be anything. For me it was my own kids. Before they came along I had all kinds of time to ruminate on my mom and spend my energy feeling conflicted about her. I truly thought she was giving me what I deserved and that our tension was my fault. But when I became a mom myself, a lot of pieces fell into place. My intuition told me exactly how to love my kids, and I knew my mom wasn't a mom the way I was going to be a mom. She couldn't teach me anything new. I had to walk away from her drippy bucket because I had my own kids, and myself, to fill up.
Your reason might be a relationship you want to protect, a version of yourself you're trying to get back to, or just a bone-deep exhaustion that finally has a name.
Whatever it is, it's enough.
Motivation 🧭
It was so tempting to think, "I know what to do, I'll just never see her again," but I never wanted out entirely.
When I reflected on what I actually wanted with my mom, not the made-for-public idea that everyone can understand, it sounded like this: "I want it to feel like running into a distant relative at a family gathering. Happy to see her, easy conversation, and then we part ways knowing it'll be a while before we're together again." I also wanted to stay close enough that my family didn't have to work around me or choose sides at holidays.
That was my authentic end goal. The truth I was willing to work for.
Your version might look different. But it's worth asking: what's the relationship you could actually live with? Between the dream version and the nuclear option. The one that costs you less and still lets you show up as yourself.
She was still on my mind 🌀
Even though I wasn't seeing my mom much, she was still on my mind ALL THE TIME. Replaying interactions, coming up with responses to her texts, drafting what I wish I'd said to her. Exhausting.
So I started putting time limits on how long I'd let myself think about her. When I noticed myself going down that road I'd say "5 more minutes" and when time was up I'd ask myself "ok, what do I WANT to think about now?"
Redirecting my thoughts felt like moving through mud at first. But it also felt like moving closer to my values, and closer to my own life.
Who are you creating a door for? 🚪
Not every difficult relationship is the same, and it's worth knowing which one you're in.
Some people in your life can actually handle your individuality. They might not love every boundary you set, but it's ultimately a relationship where each person takes care of themselves and genuinely seeks the other out for support. Boundaries here are still hard but they tend to improve things over time and build real intimacy. These are the relationships worth the creative effort.
Then there are people like my mom. Perspective-taking is absent enough that there's a real argument for cutting losses and stopping the effort to "make it work." Creativity is expensive with someone who can't receive it. The door stays small and fixed and that's not a failure, it's a decision.
The vast majority fall somewhere in the middle. They're too deep in their own feelings to show up well in the relationship right now. Maybe for a long time. Maybe indefinitely. Boundaries make sense here and it's reasonable to check back in from time to time to see if anything has shifted. Just don't burn energy waiting for it.
Guilt 😮💨
Guilt showed up early for me and never really left, it just changed shape.
I think I was unknowingly born with a duty that was never explicitly communicated to me. I remember being a little kid, telling my mom I wanted to sleep at my dad's house, and her crying and saying "you love your dad more than me." I didn't have the tools yet to understand that her emotional pain wasn't mine to carry. I just felt guilty for wanting what I wanted.
Maybe yours started early too. Or maybe your difficult relationship began in adulthood, with someone you chose, someone who seemed like a perfect match for the closeness you were offering. You showed up fully. The relationship just couldn't hold it, and somehow you got handed the bill for that.
Here's how I think about guilt: it's there to tell you that you've done something wrong or are about to do something wrong. But wrong is defined by the relationships and culture you're inside of. When the person defining wrong for you is also the person hurting you, the guilt you feel isn't really yours. They built it, maybe unbeknownst to you and without explicit communication.
Now the guilt only creeps up when my mom is being pleasant. I catch myself thinking "all this distance I've created to keep away someone who is hungry for me and harmless as a mouse." But I know better. Now when guilt shows up I hear it, check it against my own values, and move forward from that knowing.
It's a practice, not a destination. You're probably still learning what your terms are. That's exactly why you're still reading.
Grief 🌧️
Grief sometimes still shows up, uninvited. Despite all the great boundaries I have with my mom, I continue to feel grief that this relationship has been so hard, that she may still be hurting and I've decided that filling her bucket is too draining and takes me further and further away from who I want to be, and that our relationship falls short of the dream I had for it. That genuinely sucks. I t sucks for me and might suck for you, too, as moving toward peace often requires moving away from carrying responsibility for everyone else's emotions.
I still feel the grief, expectedly around holidays and birthdays, and unexpectedly when it decides to pop up. The grief used to make me question this little door I've built for my mom. I see other people who operate very differently, much less boundaried than me, even within their tricky relationships, which reliably causes me to question what's wrong with me. How can they do it that way and I can't? I accept this for what it is and move forward tending to the people and pursuits that offer meaning and energy.
For now, this is my best.
Some things that helped along the way 🛠️
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Processing things my mom would say to me in the company of people I love and trust. This helped me feel less crazy and doubtful of myself.
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Therapy. An outside perspective, a dedicated hour to talk about this as much as I want to.
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The book "Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents" by Lindsay C. Gibson, PsyD. I gobbled this up.
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I started creating boundaries through text communication for three reasons: my mom and I lived far apart and it was just easier, I liked being able to take as much time as I needed to reply, and I could refer back to the conversation any time I wanted to clarify things.
Just some of the boots on the ground practicalities that created the boundaries I needed and helped me along.
I'd love to hear how you're doing with your own boundary work. If you're a friend, let me know how you're doing. If you're a current client and want to chat about boundaries when we see each other next, I'd love that, and if you live in MN or WA and would like to become a client, we should talk 🙂
