With the holidays coming up, I’ve been thinking a lot about family: the good, the bad, and the ugly. When I think about my childhood holidays, it is all about warm feelings and good memories. As a kid, that’s what I remember: playing with my sister and my cousins and being surrounded by the people I love the most. But, as we all got older, families grew, and dynamics changed. My cousins all began growing their families, there were rifts between some people, spouses joined the clan, and it all got pretty complicated. As a young adult, I was a single mother, and my sister was divorced when her son was in kindergarten. So, because we had no other obligations, our immediate family spent holidays, vacations, and most weekends together. The idea that we had to “share” each other never came up. Every year, as the holidays approached, it was always assumed we would all be together. For the most part, that’s how it worked out. And none of us ever questioned it. Lately, though, I’ve been thinking a lot about family expectations and how they can be both a blessing and a burden. And specifically, how those expectations play out during the holiday season.

Family dynamics are a delicate thing. And every family has their way of relating to each other. Some people approach the holiday season with excitement at the idea of family get-togethers: the food, the conversation, the togetherness are all great experiences they love. For others, the holidays are triggers: they can feed into one’s stress, anxiety, depression. Often, it is our unhealthy family dynamics that contribute to the latter.

This topic came up during a recent conversation with my daughter. We talked about holiday plans and the camping trips we usually all take together during the Fall and Winter. She said they – meaning her, her husband, and my grandkids – may not be making all of the “regular” trips we usually take as an extended family. My initial reaction was a disappointment: I felt an irrational sense of loss at the thought of camping without them. As if it would never be the same, and how could I possibly enjoy these trips without my kids and grandkids around. To compound my feelings, I realized my son would be navigating his first holiday season trying to balance a job, a serious relationship, and my expectations. Likely, he will not be able to spend as much time with me as he has in the past.

I began to examine my expectations of my adult children and the expectations I felt placed on me during my entire adulthood. Don’t get me wrong–close families are invaluable to an individual’s emotional development and happiness. Having a group of people who will always be there for you, love you, and with a shared history promotes a sense of belonging and contentment like nothing else. But when those same people also monopolize your free time, place pressure on you to conform to their wants, and don’t respect your boundaries, it becomes enmeshment. And it is a burden on the people you love. I’ve never been that great at boundaries: I have a hard time balancing my own needs with the desire to please my family and spend time with them. It’s something I actively work on.

I realize that my daughter understands boundaries in a way I don’t. Shortly after she became a mother with her own family, she began setting boundaries. Her husband is also close with his family, so they had to balance the demands on their time from two family groups. The first Christmas after my granddaughter was born, my daughter broke the family tradition of Christmas morning at my house or her grandparents’ house. She told us, “It’s easier for us if everyone else comes to our house: we’re the ones with a baby to consider. And she’ll be more comfortable at home.” It was an adjustment, but one we all made. After my grandson came along, my daughter gave us another boundary: “We want to spend some time Christmas morning with just our little family. Everyone shows up with a side for breakfast and ready to open gifts at 9 AM.” Again, we all fell in line. And now she’s pulling back from our camping trips. Putting my initial reaction aside, I couldn’t be more proud.

When my editor told me to write about whatever came to mind, I’m sure she didn’t expect this in-depth look at my family. After all, how does any of this relate to grandparenting? But the realization has finally hit me: I’m in a new season of my life. Becoming a grandparent isn’t the change of life season that hits the hardest: it’s the awareness that the youngest of your children is becoming an adult. That your oldest is setting boundaries and creating her own family traditions. The last thing I want to do to the people I love most in the world is to make them feel guilty for having their own lives. As a close family who remains involved in each other’s daily lives, that is all too easy to do.

As my kids were growing up, I often said that my goal was to raise children who no longer need me. Children who can build relationships and lives outside of the ones they have with me. Now that it is happening, it’s a bit of an adjustment. But the more I think about it, the more thrilling it is. It means I am also moving forward. And, as I’ve spent the last few days wrapping my head around the idea that my life is moving into a new phase, just as my kids’ lives are, the more exciting I find it.

If your adult children make other plans this holiday season, don’t take it personally. Please don’t make them feel bad for having a life that doesn’t include you. It just means you did a great job raising them.

If you’re the adult child, your parents or in-laws may have expectations for the holidays that you don’t want to meet. Have an honest conversation with them. Try to be understanding that they may be grappling with letting go and working together to find a compromise that works for all.

TRICIA VLASAK is a mother, grandparent, and wife. She works in law enforcement when she isn’t writing about parenting, hiking with her dogs, or going on adventures.