When Politics Breaks a Relationship, It’s Not Really About Politics
A note from Jessica:
Over the past several weeks, many of you have written to me about the same kind of heartbreak I shared in When They Don’t Listen: the ache of trying to stay in relationship with family members who shut you out, dismiss you, or refuse to even hear your thoughts.
Your messages were vulnerable and familiar. I recognized myself in every one of them.
And while I shared my own experience, I also knew I couldn’t fully answer the deeper questions you were asking. So I reached out to someone whose work has helped me stay grounded in the middle of my own grief.
, therapist, podcaster, and the author behind The Hidden Way with Rudi O. Betzold here on Substack, offered to write the piece below (you can also find her podcast, The Hidden Way, here). It’s thoughtful and clear, and it opened my eyes to the bigger picture of what’s going on in our families when politics enters the conversation. Her words brought me a kind of clarity I didn’t expect, and I hope they do the same for you.
I’m deeply grateful for her voice in this space, and I’m honored to share her work here with you.
Guest essay by Rudi O. Betzold:
As a therapist, I’ve sat with so many people who are heartbroken, confused, and asking the same question in different words: “How did someone I love become a stranger?”
Each week, clients describe the late-night replaying of conversations, the dread before a family gathering, the shock of realizing you don’t share the same reality with someone you once trusted. I see this pain every week, and I want to clearly name what is causing this distress.
What most people misunderstand about political division in families is that the pain isn’t actually about politics. It’s simply the arena where a deeper relational pattern shows up. It’s easier to blame the latest headline, the “outrage of the week,” or the widening gap between left and right.
But the real issue causing pain is that your loved ones insist on making their reality the only valid option. And the emotional toll of being dismissed, minimized, or gaslit is what leads to feeling defeated and maybe even hopeless.
If you and I were in a therapy session together, I wouldn’t start by asking about your political beliefs. I would ask:
What does it feel like to have your version of reality repeatedly denied?
Where in your body do you hold the grief of being misunderstood?
What part of you still hopes they will wake up, soften, or come back to you?
Because the primary injury here is not ideological. It’s relational.
This dynamic isn’t unique to politics. It shows up in families affected by addiction, narcissism, and emotional immaturity — systems where one person’s version of truth dominates and everyone else learns to either fall in line or be cast as the problem. Whether you’re discussing religion, career choices, parenting styles, or conspiracy theories, the pattern of being dismissed and belittled remains the same.
Grieving the loss of a relationship with the parent you used to admire or the sibling who once felt like a friend is necessary. Accepting the limits of their ability to relate to you or care for you in a healthy way is part of the work. And it ushers in a deep and painful grief. However, grieving what’s no longer possible for the relationship allows you to understand what is possible moving forward. That clarity will allow you to live with greater peace and wholeness.
The Bridge-Builders Are the Ones Who Suffer Most
Most of the people reading this are the ones who often adapt and give the benefit of the doubt in relationships — the peacekeepers, the ones who try to stay curious, stay kind, look for common ground, and work twice as hard to stay connected. And because of that, you are also the ones most likely to:
Blame yourselves when things fracture
Wonder if you’re being dramatic
Think, “If I could just say it differently…”
Feel guilty for even considering stepping back
But, you may be past the point where trying to persuade and use logic or reason with your loved ones is helpful or even possible.
There is a moment — and only you can name it — when you realize you are not in a relationship of shared reality. You’re in a one-sided conversation with a psychological brick wall built to keep out anything that threatens identity, belonging, or certainty. And no amount of clarity, data, compassion, or self-improvement will dismantle a defense that person does not want dismantled.
That’s when the real question shifts from “How do I fix this?” to “How do I live with integrity inside something I cannot change?”
Two Questions That Bring Clarity
Instead of rehearsing arguments in your head or replaying conversations you wish had gone differently, try asking yourself these two questions instead:
What do I want?
What is actually possible?
You may want your dad to stop sending articles, or your sister to finally say, “I’m sorry I dismissed you.” You may want the version of your family that existed ten years ago. You may want family reunions to feel lighthearted again.
But what is possible may be very different, and that truth can be devastating before it becomes freeing. The process of grieving requires that we let reality be real. The more we fight what’s truly possible, the more stuck in denial, anger, or confusion we remain.
Boundaries That Don’t Require Permission
In addition to grieving, you will need to decide what you are willing and not willing to do. It’s crucial to understand that you do not need to announce every boundary you have to make it valid. A boundary becomes real the moment you act on it. Many people get worn out and discouraged because conversations about boundaries with dismissive family members don’t go well. That is part of this entire pattern of hurt.
Instead, you have the option of saying internally:
“I’m not talking about this topic anymore.”
“I’m leaving the room when this starts.”
“I love my family, and I also don’t have to attend everything.”
“I can care about this relationship and still protect myself.”
This is not disloyalty. This is using your wisdom and discernment about how you want to spend your energy.
You can love someone and still limit how much access they have to your nervous system. You can choose peace without abandoning truth. You can stop arguing not because you’ve given up, but because you’ve grown up.
What Healing Actually Looks Like
It is not about winning them back. It is not about proving you’re right. It is not about being so “open-minded” that you lose your sense of reality.
Healing looks like:
Validating your own perception when others won’t
Letting go of fantasy versions of people
Choosing peace-of-mind over obligatory contact
Feeling the absurdity and naming it as grief, not failure
Staying rooted in integrity even when others don’t join you
The real work is holding the complexity:
I love my mother. And she is not well enough right now to see the world clearly.
I care about my brother. And I cannot keep sacrificing my sanity to spend time with him.
That’s not betrayal. That’s the truth adult relationships often require.
If no one has said it plainly: You are not crazy for being heartbroken. You are not weak for needing space. You are not failing because the relationship changed.
You are simply waking up to the truth, and telling yourself the truth is the beginning of freedom.
Rudi has kindly offered to answer questions in the comments. If something in this piece brings up a question or a story of your own, we’d love to hear from you. This is a hard conversation, but none of us have to move through it alone.
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