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franziskasmeyer

Why People Go No Contact with Their Families


In this episode, I want to explore the question: Why do people go no contact with their family? I don’t know what kind of person you are—whether you’re someone who has no contact with their family, someone neutral and simply curious about why people do this, or someone considering going no contact but unsure whether or how to go about it. Maybe you’ve been no contact before and reconnected.


Whatever your situation, if this topic interests you, I’m sharing my humble opinion and perspective as someone who has no contact with their family. Let’s dive in, and I hope you have a meaningful time reading.



It’s About Preserving Peace


Before recording this, I was reflecting on how this question itself can feel almost sarcastic. As someone who has no contact with their family—and likely many others in the same situation—when asked, “Why?” it can feel overwhelming. Where do you even start to explain?


To make it simple, the reason is this: your own peace is the most precious thing. It’s more valuable than anything else.


If someone decides to go no contact with their family, it’s never because everything was perfect, and one day, on a whim, they just stopped talking. It’s not because their parents forgot to text them back, or because of some trivial reason. Sure, I’ve heard of cases where there’s simply no mutual interest, but for most people who go no contact, it’s because the relationship is toxic, unhealthy, and damaging.


When there’s been childhood abuse, neglect, or other deep wounds, deciding to go no contact is never a spur-of-the-moment decision. Imagine someone in their 40s finally making that choice—it’s not because of a random incident. It’s the culmination of a lifetime of pain.


The Invisible Weight of Abuse


People who haven’t experienced abuse often don’t understand. And when we tell them we’re no contact, the responses can range from confusion to judgment: “Why? But it’s your family!” These questions, while common, can feel invalidating.

Even those who know a bit about what happened in our childhood may still ask, “But why?” That’s where the anger comes in, because this reaction often stems from society’s loyalty to the perpetrator.


Abusers, in many cases, are protected. This pattern repeats throughout history. Take, for example, cases of sexual abuse: the abuser is often excused, downplayed, or shielded by phrases like, “It wasn’t that bad,” or, “Oh, that’s just how they are.” The victim is left to deal with the aftermath alone, while everyone else protects the family image.


For many of us who endured toxic family dynamics, getting to the point of deciding to go no contact requires immense inner strength. It’s not about a lack of forgiveness or being too sensitive—it’s about survival and protecting your peace.


Facing Judgment


When people question your choice to go no contact, a helpful response can be to ask them, “Have you experienced abuse in your childhood?” If the answer is no, then the conversation doesn’t need to go further. They simply don’t have the context to understand.


Abuse isn’t always physical. Emotional abuse, narcissistic manipulation, and neglect are often invisible but leave profound scars. For those who haven’t lived it, these experiences are difficult to grasp. For example, when someone says, “But there was food on the table,” it can feel invalidating. Yes, the bare minimum might have been there—food, clothes, schooling—but the deeper needs of love, safety, and emotional connection were often entirely absent.


This is especially challenging with emotional abuse, because much of the harm stems from what wasn’t there. You can’t easily point to specific events because the damage is woven into the fabric of what was missing.


Breaking Free


So how do you decide if going no contact is right for you? One pivotal moment for me came during a conversation with a friend more than 18 yers ago. At the time, I was stuck in a cycle of sadness and depression after every meeting with my mother. My friend asked, “Do you always feel bad after meeting her?” I thought about it and realized the answer was yes. Then he asked, “If you always feel bad, why are you still meeting with her?” That question changed everything. It made me realize that I didn’t have to keep putting myself through the same painful experience.


Letting go isn’t easy. It takes time, energy, and a deep commitment to yourself. For me, the process began at age 22. Now, at 38, I can see how long the journey of letting go truly is. It’s not a one-time decision where everything suddenly becomes sunshine and rainbows. It’s a gradual, often messy process of reclaiming your life.


Choosing Yourself


When I stopped making the effort to initiate contact, something shifted. Before, it had always been me reaching out, trying to maintain the relationship. But once I pulled back, I created space for something new—freedom.


Unfortunately, in many cases, the other side doesn’t change. They don’t suddenly apologize or try to repair the relationship. But that’s okay, because the most important part is the first step: choosing yourself. This isn’t just about cutting ties; it’s about healing and moving forward. It’s about recognizing that the effort to hold onto a toxic relationship takes more energy than it’s worth. And ultimately, it’s about finding peace—because that’s what matters most.


Family dynamics are intricate, layered with roles like the Golden Child, scapegoat, or enabler, especially in families touched by narcissistic abuse. This complexity makes understanding and addressing the harm caused even harder. Complex PTSD, a condition stemming from prolonged trauma, encapsulates this difficulty: millions of factors intertwine, making it incredibly hard to even pinpoint the damage.

When we talk about cutting contact, it often feels like an impossible choice. Siblings or friends may turn against you, further isolating you. Yet, at the heart of this decision lies a fundamental question: Is this relationship helping or harming me?


Facing the Fortress


Teal Swan once described it as standing before a fortress with an impenetrable metal door. You’re desperate to get in because, deep down, you crave love, validation, or acknowledgment from those inside. The bond between a child and their parents is nearly unbreakable, but when abuse occurs, this bond becomes a source of pain. Children develop endless strategies to gain approval or affection, often twisting themselves into impossible shapes to meet unspoken demands.


But here’s the thing: if you pause and reflect, how much has truly changed over the years? Has the contact brought healing or perpetuated pain? For many, the answer leads to an agonizing realization—continuing the relationship may hinder growth and healing.


The Inner Child’s Cry


The pull to maintain these bonds often stems from our inner child, who still believes they need the parent for survival. This child might say, “I need them to feed me, hold me, and tell me I’m good enough.” But the truth is, as adults, we can provide for ourselves. We can feed, clothe, and care for ourselves. What remains is the emotional residue of unmet needs.


This is why healing requires deep self-reflection and, often, a process of letting go. This isn’t an overnight decision; it’s a journey of rebuilding self-worth, inner strength, and the realization that you don’t need the toxic connection anymore.


Understanding the Impact of Abuse


Abuse, especially narcissistic abuse, subtly erodes self-worth over time. Through dismissive comments, gaslighting, and manipulation, victims are made to doubt their instincts and feelings. Over the years, they may internalize these harmful narratives, continuing the cycle of self-doubt and self-blame long after the abuse ends.


In my coaching work, I’ve seen how deeply this self-distrust runs. It’s heartbreaking but also a powerful reminder of how effective the manipulation has been. I know this from personal experience—years ago, the way I spoke to myself was a mirror of the abuse I endured. I perpetuated the cycle, repeating harmful words and beliefs. It took immense effort, through trauma therapy, plant medicine, and other methods, to break free.


The Journey of Letting Go


Deciding to go no contact is a deeply personal and challenging choice. It doesn’t have to be permanent, and it doesn’t have to happen all at once. It’s about creating a safe space for healing, especially during vulnerable moments like therapy or major life transitions.


For me, moving out of Germany in 2011 was a pivotal step. Traveling alone showed me glimpses of who I could be—a version of myself unshaped by toxic dynamics. Over time, these glimpses grew into a taste of freedom. And once you’ve tasted freedom, there’s no turning back.


If cutting contact feels right for you, know that it’s a legitimate decision. Ask yourself:


  • Does this relationship uplift me, or does it weigh me down?

  • Am I holding onto guilt and obligation at the expense of my well-being?

  • What would life look like without this connection?


It’s not easy to break free, especially when societal norms or familial expectations pressure you to stay. But your peace and empowerment are worth fighting for.


Empowerment Beyond Contact


Since letting go of toxic ties, I’ve felt more empowered and at peace than ever before. This doesn’t mean the journey was easy—it took years of hard work and courage. But the reward is priceless: the freedom to live as my true self, unburdened by the past.

For anyone considering this step, know that you don’t have to make immediate decisions. Write a letter you don’t send. Take a temporary break. Explore what life might feel like without the toxic influence. The path is yours to choose, and every step is valid.


To those who don’t understand why someone might cut contact, refrain from judgment. Unless you’ve lived through decades of pain, you can’t truly understand. Instead, approach with curiosity and compassion.


As I wrap up, I want to leave you with this: your inner peace is the most precious gift you can give yourself. You don’t have to sacrifice it to protect others’ feelings. Life can be beautiful and free when you stand up for yourself and your worth.


Namaste, my friends. Let me know your thoughts, experiences, or questions in the comments below. Until next time—take care of yourself and your precious heart.


Thank you for reading.

Franziska


 

You can also watch this episode on YouTube




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