Families are often seen as sanctuaries of love and belonging, but the truth is that they can also be battlegrounds of discord. There are families where certain members are pitted against each other, locked in an invisible war that surfaces in subtle jabs or full-blown arguments. Two married brothers constantly trying to outdo each other, divorced parents who never miss a chance to point out flaws, mother and daughter-in-law exchanging cold glances at every gathering — these dynamics are more common than we like to admit though there are more. For some, the hostility is loud and unapologetic, while for others, it simmers quietly under the veneer of civility. Either way, the result is the same: discomfort, unease, and an ever-present tension that can drain the peace out of any family environment.
In such situations, there is rarely a single, clear solution. The human ego, history of unresolved grievances, and clashing personalities create a web that is nearly impossible to untangle. What complicates things further is that this dynamic doesn’t just stay between the fighting members. It spills over into the lives of others, dragging them into a vortex of taking sides, mediating, or simply bearing witness to the dysfunction. The weight of hearing one story after another, being privy to endless complaints, or constantly navigating the unspoken rules of who to avoid or who to appease can be exhausting. The question then arises: How does one survive in such families? Should you pick a side, dive into the fray, or keep your distance altogether?
Choosing to take a side often feels like the easiest route, especially when one person seems more reasonable or relatable. But siding with one party usually deepens the divide and adds fuel to the fire. It creates resentment, both from the opposing party and sometimes even from the one you tried to support, who might later blame you for not doing enough. Then there is the option to mediate—to play the peacemaker, the voice of reason in a storm of irrationality. While noble in intention, this role can also backfire. In most cases, the combatants don’t want solutions; they want validation. Trying to broker peace can make you a target, accused of being unfair or accused of not understanding the depth of their grievances. And so, many people, perhaps wisely, choose the third route: keeping their distance.
But distancing yourself emotionally or physically is not always easy, especially when you live in the same house or are part of a close-knit family. It might even feel selfish or unkind. The truth, however, is that preserving your own peace is not just an act of self-care—it is often a necessity. Constant exposure to negativity can erode your mental and emotional well-being, leaving you feeling drained, irritable, and even hopeless. Sometimes, the best thing you can do for yourself is to set clear boundaries. This might mean excusing yourself from conversations that veer into complaints or conflicts, politely declining to take sides, or even stepping away from gatherings that you know will be particularly toxic.
And what about the fighting parties themselves? Can anything be done to ease their conflict? Perhaps the most valuable thing anyone can offer them is perspective. Encourage them, if you can, to step outside their own hurt and see the situation from a broader view. Help them realize that their constant battles are not just affecting them but everyone around them. Suggest professional help, like family therapy or counseling, where a neutral third party can help them work through their issues. But remember: their willingness to change is not in your hands. People cling to their narratives, their grievances, because letting go feels like losing. Until they are ready to confront their own flaws and open their hearts to forgiveness or compromise, little progress can be made.
So how do you thrive and navigate in such families? You survive by recognizing that you cannot fix everything. You survive by protecting your peace, even when it feels selfish. And you survive by choosing compassion—for them, for yourself, and for the imperfect dynamics that make up every family. It’s okay to love your family and still acknowledge their flaws. It’s okay to wish for harmony while accepting the reality of discord. And it’s okay to prioritize your well-being, even if that means stepping away from the battlefield.
In the end, families are not perfect. They never have been, and they never will be. But they are ours, and within their complexities lie opportunities to grow—to practice patience, to learn resilience, and, above all, to love even when it’s hard. And perhaps that’s the greatest survival skill of all.
Regards,
Komel Chadha
Psychologist
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