The Good and Bad Object: Boundaries Without Losing Connection

Exploring Melanie Klein’s Object Relations Theory in Everyday Life

Case Example: Sophie had always been the “easy” one in her family—the one who kept the peace, agreed with others, and avoided conflict. When she started therapy, she began noticing how exhausted and resentful she felt in her relationships. She wanted to start setting boundaries, but the moment she even thought about saying no to her mother or partner, a wave of panic hit. “What if they get angry? What if they shut me out? What if they think I’m selfish?” In those moments, Sophie imagined their entire view of her changing in an instant—from someone they loved and valued to someone they saw as cold, unkind, or “the problem.” And so, she stayed silent, kept giving, and slowly lost her sense of herself.

Why This Happens

In many family systems, setting a boundary isn’t simply about saying no. It’s tangled in layers of fear—fear of being abandoned, of hurting someone, of making them angry, or of being cast into the role of the all bad person.

In psychoanalytic theory, particularly in the work of Melanie Klein, this relates to the concept of the good object and the bad object. At its core, this theory helps explain why boundaries can feel so threatening—both to set and to receive.

Understanding the Good and Bad Object

In early life, we experience others (and ourselves) in fragmented ways. When a caregiver meets our needs, they are the good object—safe, comforting, loving. When they disappoint us, frustrate us, or withhold care, they are the bad object—scary, rejecting, hurtful.

In healthy development, these perceptions begin to integrate. We come to understand that the same person can love us and disappoint us; they can be caring in some moments and unavailable in others. This is the depressive position—not about being depressed, but about holding the complexity of another person without splitting them into “all good” or “all bad.”

When this integration is fragile—often due to early relational trauma, inconsistent caregiving, or enmeshed family systems—boundaries can trigger a regression to splitting. Suddenly, the one setting the limit risks being seen entirely as the bad object, stripped of their goodness in the other’s mind. Or conversely, we may idealise someone as the good object and fear setting a boundary because we can’t bear to “lose” them to the bad category.

Boundaries Through the Lens of Splitting

When we avoid setting a boundary, it’s often not because we don’t know how—it’s because we fear the emotional consequences.

• If I say no, they’ll think I’m selfish or unloving.

• If I speak up, they’ll turn against me.

• If I set a limit, I’ll lose my place in their good graces.

This dynamic is particularly strong in family systems where conflict is avoided, emotions are poorly regulated, or relationships are enmeshed. The unspoken rule becomes: keep others in the good position at all costs, even if it means abandoning yourself.

But there’s a cost to this: resentment, self-betrayal, and a slow erosion of trust—both in ourselves and in our relationships.

Holding the Good and the Bad

The work here is not to avoid conflict or keep everyone happy. It’s to develop the emotional capacity to hold both the good and bad aspects of ourselves and others at the same time.

This means:

• You can love someone and disagree with them.

• You can set a boundary and still care deeply.

• Someone can hurt you in one moment and still be a person of value in your life.

• You can feel anger toward someone without erasing their goodness.

When we can hold this complexity, boundaries stop feeling like emotional guillotines. Instead, they become part of how we preserve relationships—because we no longer believe that disagreement or limit-setting equals total rejection.

Why This Matters in Healing

Without this integration, relationships often swing between idealisation (you’re perfect, I need you, I’ll do anything to keep you happy) and devaluation (you’ve disappointed me, you’re all bad, I’m done with you). This back-and-forth is exhausting and destabilising, both internally and relationally.

Klein’s work helps us see that the goal is not to avoid bad feelings about others, nor to cling to idealised images, but to tolerate ambivalence—to accept that love and frustration, care and conflict, closeness and distance can coexist.

Boundaries are not the destruction of a relationship—they are what make authentic connection possible. And when we can hold both the good and bad in ourselves and others, we stop living in fear of being cast out of love every time we protect our own needs.

Final Reflection:

Boundaries test our ability to stay whole. They ask us to remain in relationship without collapsing into people-pleasing or cutting off entirely. The more we can hold both good and bad in the same frame, the freer we become to love without losing ourselves—and to be loved without having to be perfect.