Going No Contact
Building a life that honors your truth
“You are not a bad person if you choose to say goodbye to abusive family members. You have every right to preserve your emotional integrity.” -Jeff Brown
There comes a moment when you realize that staying connected to certain family members requires sacrificing yourself. After years of setting boundaries and trying to change your family dynamic, you learn that some people will never change. Old wounds are being reopened while new ones are being inflicted. The family unit should be a place where you are healed, not harmed. It’s a matter of dignity and emotional safety to walk away. You have not failed.
No contact is a profound act of self-preservation — and for many highly sensitive, intuitive adults, it’s a homecoming. This is the first time you are living fully inside of your own body, trusting your feelings, listening to your intuition. Now that the dust has settled, you have space to discover this new sense of Self — one no longer defined by the chaos of your family system. One that is luminous and strong enough to survive the emotional fallout of leaving.
After setting boundaries, and the initial stage of grieving, you’re adjusting to the new bittersweet reality. You find yourself closer to people who respect your decision, and further from people you once believed would love you forever. You’re longing for a chosen family — connection that feels earned, real, and mutual. You wonder what to do with all of this space — will it always feel so empty? Loneliness and freedom go hand, as well as a newfound peace and grief.
We mourn those who didn’t earn it, because a part of us once loved them. We might have wanted to save them, and for a long time that desire shaped our every move — until we were pulled into their chaos. No contact becomes the path back to the little girl who once had spirit and purpose and hope for things other than keeping the family system intact. It’s time to move into living — not just enduring — with your whole Self.
The areas of focus in therapy:
Boundaries that honor your safety
Reclaiming play and rest
Building chosen community
Creating your own traditions
When you step away from family, the world shifts. Holidays look different. Certain relatives pull away. Others question your choices without ever asking what you lived through. But you are not wandering without purpose — you are walking out of the fog your family taught you to breathe in. In our work, we anchor you into relationships where mutuality replaces manipulation, and respect replaces obligation. You learn what it feels like to be met instead of managed. To be known without being used. Even on lonely days, you belong deeply to yourself. You are allowed to build a life where safety isn’t negotiable.
Maintain Boundaries
Estrangement creates a clearing in your life. At first it may feel like a loss, but over time that space becomes fertile ground. We explore how to cultivate relationships that don’t require shrinking, fawning, or explaining yourself into exhaustion. People exist that can hold your grief and your joy — people who see you and not just your usefulness. Chosen family is a home you build, one authentic connection at a time. You may start with a plant and a cat, and learn to trust others over time.
Build Chosen Community
Family chaos interrupts the simple things: joy, curiosity, creativity, leisure. Your body hasn’t forgotten how to relax — it went into long-term survival mode. As your nervous system finally has room to exhale, rest might feel unfamiliar… even suspicious. Pleasure might feel too tender to touch. Creativity might feel like a language you used to speak fluently but haven’t practiced in years. Therapy becomes a place to explore what wants to return: music, movement, softness, delight. Not as performance, but as your birthright.
Reclaim Play and Rest
Certain dates, seasons, and memories carry a sting. Nostalgia may pull you towards fantasies of repair. Tenderness may arise on holidays or milestones. In therapy, we honor these waves without letting them rewrite history. You learn how to create rituals that hold you through the ache: a movie marathon, a volunteer shift, a candle lit for the ancestors who came before the dysfunction. Not every holiday has to be a celebration. Whatever your choice is, it is sacred because it honors yourself.