Avoiding Responsibility

One of the reasons I became a therapist, and I say this proudly, is because my all-time favorite movie is The Prince of Tides with Barbra Streisand. She was the coolest therapist I had ever seen. She cussed, she didn’t apologize for being direct, and yes, she even threw something at a client once. I remember thinking, yep, that’s the job for me. If I wasn’t going to be a prison guard, therapist was the natural next step. Period.

There’s a line in that movie that I’ve always loved but never quite knew how to use. That is, until this week, when I got to use it twice. When her client shuts down, offering nothing but “I don’t know,” “I’m not sure,” and “I can’t think of anything,” she finally leans forward and says, “You’re acting like a petulant child.” It’s brilliant. Direct. And absolutely accurate.

Now, I know that in today’s world, a line like that can get twisted into being gaslight-y, which—if you know me—you know my feelings about the overuse of that term. What she’s really calling out is something closer to decreased responsibility due to withholding information. And that, right there, is one of my absolute irritants. It’s something we need to talk about, not just in therapy, but in all relationships: partnerships, marriages, friendships, family dynamics, even coworkers. Because the same principles apply everywhere.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard people say, “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to upset you,” or “I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure how you’d react.” On the surface, these statements sound mature or thoughtful, but underneath them is a very simple truth: avoidance wrapped in emotional bubble wrap. It’s not protection. It’s not kindness. It’s not emotional intelligence. It’s someone saying, “I didn’t want to be uncomfortable,” or “I didn’t want to deal with your feelings,” or “I didn’t want to be accountable for what this information might mean.”

It’s decreased responsibility disguised as compassion. And it creates chaos in relationships.

If you choose to stay in a relationship, any relationship, you have responsibilities. They don’t change based on mood or convenience. They don’t disappear because you fear conflict. They don’t evaporate because the conversation is uncomfortable. You owe the people in your life honest communication—not perfect, not poetic, just honest—and the ability to tolerate discomfort. Healthy relationships require uncomfortable conversations. Avoiding them doesn’t protect the connection; it erodes it. Adults tolerate discomfort. Children avoid it.

You also have the responsibility to let people have their reactions. You don’t get to manage someone else’s emotional world for them. You don’t get to decide what they should or shouldn’t feel. That’s not protection; that’s control. Your truth is your responsibility; their reaction is theirs. And if you are in a relationship, you stay in it until you decide not to. Withholding information is participating at twenty percent and wondering why the relationship feels weak. You don’t get to blame someone for how they might have reacted to information they never received.

Now let’s talk about another modern relational buzzword that has veered completely off course: boundaries. Real boundaries are healthy and necessary. But the version of boundaries floating around social media? That’s something else. Somewhere along the way, boundaries became a get-out-of-accountability-free card. People say things like, “I’m setting a boundary—I don’t want to talk about that,” or “My boundary is I don’t have to explain myself,” or “I don’t owe you communication; that’s my boundary.” Except that’s not a boundary. That’s a wall. A dodge. A cleverly branded escape hatch.

A boundary is something you set for yourself about what you will or won’t do—not a restriction you place on someone else to avoid difficult conversations, truths, or responsibilities. A boundary sounds like, “I won’t stay in a conversation where I’m being yelled at,” or “I need time to process before we discuss this,” or “I’m not available to fix this for you.” It is about self-governed behavior. But many of the “boundaries” getting tossed around today are actually avoidance, emotional shutdown, stonewalling, or refusing to participate in the relationship. In other words: emotional immaturity dressed up in therapeutic language.

And again, that lands right next to petulant child behavior. Because when someone uses boundaries as an excuse to stop communicating, stop participating, or stop taking responsibility for the impact of their choices, they’re not setting boundaries—they’re abandoning relational responsibility.

Withholding information, avoiding discomfort, and misusing boundaries all create the same outcome: a slow breakdown of trust and connection. Real partnership requires bringing your truth to the table, allowing others to have their reactions, staying in conversations even when they’re uncomfortable, using boundaries to regulate your own behavior, and refusing to hide behind therapeutic buzzwords to escape responsibility.

Anything less, and we’re right back to Barbra Streisand’s line: “You’re acting like a petulant child.” Not because the person is childish, but because they’re opting out of the emotional responsibilities that make relationships work. When we can name that, we can begin to change it. When we can change it, we can begin to heal. And when we can heal, connection becomes possible again.