7 types of family members that aren’t worth making an effort with, according to psychology

Last Thanksgiving, I watched my cousin monopolize the dinner table for forty-five minutes straight. She talked about her job, her breakup, her new apartment, her thoughts on everything from oat milk to cryptocurrency. Every time someone else tried to contribute, she'd nod once and redirect the conversation back to herself.

By the time dessert rolled around, I felt like I'd been sitting in a one-woman show I didn't buy tickets for.

On the drive home, my partner asked me why I looked so drained. "It's just family," I said, as if that explained everything.

But here's the thing: "just family" isn't a good enough reason to let someone consistently deplete you.

We've been taught that blood is thicker than water, that family is forever, that you should always try harder. There's this cultural script that says if you're not bending over backward for relatives, you're somehow failing at being a decent human.

But what if some relationships are actually costing you more than they're giving? And what if stepping back isn't giving up, it's growing up?

Psychology is pretty clear on this: not all family connections are worth the emotional labor. Some patterns are so entrenched, so one-sided, that the healthiest choice is to stop trying to fix what was never yours to carry.

Here are seven types of family members that might not be worth the effort, according to the research and a little bit of lived experience.

1) The Emotional Vampire

You know this person. Every conversation is a crisis. Every phone call is an emergency. They need constant reassurance, endless advice, and your undivided attention at all times.

But here's the kicker: they never actually take the advice. They don't want solutions. They want an audience.

Psychologists talk about something called emotional labor, the invisible work of managing other people's feelings. In healthy relationships, that labor is mutual. You hold space for me, I hold space for you. But with emotional vampires, the exchange is entirely one-sided.

Research on emotional labor imbalance shows that when one person consistently does all the emotional heavy lifting, it leads to burnout, resentment, and even physical health issues. You're not just tired after talking to them. You're depleted.

What not making an effort looks like: You stop answering every call. You set a timer for conversations. You offer empathy without getting sucked into the spiral. And when they ask why you're distant, you're honest. "I care about you, but I can't be your only support system."

2) The Scorekeeper

This family member remembers every favor they've ever done for you. They keep a mental ledger of who owes what, and they're not afraid to remind you.

"Remember when I loaned you that $50 in 2017?" Yes, Karen. We all remember.

Scorekeepers turn relationships into transactions. Love becomes currency, and affection comes with interest rates. You can't just enjoy a moment with them because everything is tallied, tracked, and thrown back in your face when it's convenient.

The exhausting part isn't the favors themselves. It's the constant feeling that you're in debt for simply existing in their orbit.

What not making an effort looks like: You stop accepting their help. You decline the offers that come with invisible strings. You realize that saying no to their "generosity" is actually saying yes to your peace.

3) The Boundary-Immune Relative

Some people hear the word "no" and treat it like a suggestion.

These are the family members who show up unannounced, ask invasive questions, give unsolicited advice, and act wounded when you push back. They believe that being related gives them access to every corner of your life.

"But we're family" is their favorite defense. As if shared DNA means you owe them your time, your space, and your emotional transparency.

Here's what they don't understand: boundaries aren't walls. They're guidelines for how you want to be treated. And when someone repeatedly ignores those guidelines, they're telling you that their comfort matters more than your autonomy.

What not making an effort looks like: You stop explaining yourself. You don't justify your boundaries or apologize for having them. You simply enforce them, calmly and consistently, even when it makes them uncomfortable.

4) The Projector

This family member can't see you as a separate person. In their mind, you're an extension of them, a mirror for their own unresolved issues.

If they're anxious, they assume you are too. If they struggled in their career, they project that struggle onto yours. If they have regrets about their choices, they try to live vicariously through you or worse, they sabotage your decisions to validate their own.

Psychology calls this projection, a defense mechanism where people attribute their own unwanted feelings or traits to someone else. It's one of the ways we avoid dealing with our own stuff by making it someone else's problem.

Anna Freud, who expanded on her father's work, identified projection as one of the key defense mechanisms that keeps people from facing uncomfortable truths about themselves. When a family member is stuck in this pattern, they're not really seeing you. They're seeing their own fears and disappointments reflected back.

The result? You feel misunderstood, boxed in, and exhausted from trying to prove that you're not who they think you are.

What not making an effort looks like: You stop trying to convince them. You stop defending your choices. You accept that they're going to see what they want to see, and you focus your energy on people who actually see you.

5) The Conditional Lover

Love, in their world, comes with terms and conditions.

They're warm when you're succeeding, cold when you're struggling. They're supportive when you're doing what they approve of, distant when you veer off script. Affection is a reward for good behavior, and withdrawal is the punishment for disappointing them.

This is one of the most insidious patterns because it masquerades as care. They'll say they're "just trying to help" or that they "only want what's best for you." But what they really want is control.

Conditional love teaches you that you're only worthy of affection when you meet someone else's expectations. It's a lonely, anxious way to live.

What not making an effort looks like: You stop performing for their approval. You stop editing yourself to fit their vision. You build relationships with people who love you as you are, not as they wish you would be.

6) The Critic

Nothing you do is ever quite enough for this person.

You got a promotion? They ask why it wasn't a bigger one. You bought a house? They point out everything that's wrong with it. You're happy? They find a way to dim the light.

Chronic criticism isn't about helping you improve. It's about maintaining a power dynamic where they're the authority and you're the perpetual student who never quite graduates.

Over time, this erodes your confidence. You start second-guessing yourself, shrinking your wins, apologizing for taking up space. You internalize their voice until it becomes your own inner critic.

What not making an effort looks like: You stop sharing your good news with them. You stop seeking their validation. You realize that their opinion of you says more about them than it does about you.

7) The Chaos Agent

This family member thrives on drama. They gossip, they stir the pot, they create conflict where there wasn't any before.

Psychologists call this triangulation, a concept from family systems theory developed by Murray Bowen. It's when someone pulls a third party into a two-person conflict to avoid direct resolution. Instead of talking to you about an issue, they talk to someone else about you. Instead of addressing tension, they amplify it by spreading rumors, taking sides, or playing people against each other.

Triangulation keeps dysfunction alive. It prevents honest communication and ensures that no one ever really resolves anything. The chaos agent needs the drama because in the mess, they feel powerful.

What not making an effort looks like: You refuse to engage in the triangulation. You don't participate in gossip. You don't take sides. When they try to pull you into the chaos, you step back and let them spiral without you.

The Hard Part No One Talks About

Here's what makes all of this so difficult: these people are still your family. They might have been there for you once. They might have good qualities mixed in with the hard ones. And letting go, even just a little bit, feels like betrayal.

But stepping back isn't about hatred or revenge. It's about honest assessment. It's about recognizing that some relationships take more than they give, and that pouring energy into them leaves you with nothing left for the people and things that actually nourish you.

You're allowed to protect your peace. You're allowed to say, "I love you, but I can't keep doing this." You're allowed to choose emotional health over obligation.

Because family isn't just biology. It's also choice. And sometimes the most loving thing you can do, for yourself and for them, is to stop pretending the relationship works when it doesn't.

The people who truly care about you will understand. And the ones who don't? Well, that tells you everything you need to know.