'I'm a chronic people pleaser. This simple hack made me stop.'

You know the moment.

You're smiling, nodding, saying yes, while something inside you quietly crumbles.

You don't want to disappoint them.

You don't want to start a long conversation.

You don't want to be "too much," or "too difficult," or, god forbid, selfish.

So you say yes, even when you want to say no.

We all do it. Especially with the people we love most. But I've learned something the hard way: saying no, when it's honest and kind, isn't selfish, it's sacred. And it might just be the thing that saves your relationships from resentment.

Let's start with the word itself:

No.

Two letters. One syllable. And yet somehow, saying it can feel like the most emotionally complex thing in the world.

Listen: Do you ever find it hard to say "no", especially to the people you care about most? Post continues after podcast.

I still find it hard to say no, especially with the people closest to me. My husband. My family. My best friends. If you had to slap an unofficial diagnosis on me, I'd be a lifelong people pleaser.

I was the "nice girl" — the happy, friendly one who always wanted to be liked. Never rock the boat. Never cause a fuss. Definitely never have anyone talk badly about me.

My husband and I have been together since high school, over 15 years now. And like most couples who've grown up together, we've had to unlearn a lot of old stories. One of mine, and I absolutely blame Disney for this, was that "good relationships" don't include conflict.

I genuinely believed that if we never disagreed on anything, we must be doing well.

So I said yes to things I didn't want to do, like social gatherings, events and hobbies; all under the illusion that I was being a "good partner" by making him happy.

But underneath all that people-pleasing was something else: a complete lack of self-listening, and that's on me.

I remember my husband would say things like, "I feel like you're bottling things up," and I'd quickly respond — very confidently, mind you — "No I'm not."

The truth is, my lack of self-awareness had become my biggest blind spot. I didn't even realise how disconnected I was from my own needs.

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Eventually, we had some big, brave conversations. And slowly, I began to realise he was onto something. I wasn't being honest with myself, let alone with him.

The turning point came when I started asking myself: What's actually going on for me here? What do I need? And how do I say it, even if it might not be received perfectly?

That shift didn't happen overnight. Honestly, it's still a practice.

I have to remind myself constantly that saying no isn't selfish, it's honest. And honesty, in a relationship, is a form of care.

When we give the 'no'.

One of the hardest parts about saying no is the mental narrative that comes with it. The guilt. The worry. The inner voice that says, "They'll think I'm heartless" or "But they've done so much for me, I owe them."

We get stuck in this emotional debt cycle, where we think love equals self-sacrifice. But here's the truth I've had to sit with: we are not responsible for how someone receives our boundary. We are responsible for how we communicate it.

Even if someone reacts poorly, even if they guilt us, judge us or withdraw, it doesn't mean we've done the wrong thing. It just means they have their own stuff to process.

Our job isn't to manage their emotions. It's to stay in integrity with ourselves.

When we receive the 'no'.

Of course, the tables turn. And I've definitely been on the receiving end of a 'no', like when a friend couldn't be there for me when it mattered.

Sometimes, it stings. My mind spirals: They don't care. I'm not important. I'm not lovable. But what I've learned is that those stories say more about me than they do about the other person.

When I feel rejected, it's often a sign that I've been outsourcing my sense of worth, relying on others to make me feel okay. But boundaries aren't personal attacks. They're just honest expressions of someone else's capacity.

And when someone sets a limit with me, I try to see it as an invitation: Where am I expecting this person to meet needs I haven't learned to meet myself?

What's possible with a 'no'.

Over the last two years, I've been going through some huge life transitions, and emotionally, I've been tender. Raw. Tired. So I haven't always been able to show up for others in the way I used to.

I remember one afternoon getting a missed call and a voice note from a friend who I knew was struggling. Normally, I'd drop everything. But I just didn't have it in me. I was barely keeping my own head above water.

So I took a deep breath, and instead of spiralling into guilt or ghosting them altogether, I replied honestly. I said, "I love you. I see you. But I'm not in the headspace right now to support you the way I want to. Please send me a message or voice note, I'll get back to you when I can."

And you know what? They got it. Because when we're honest with the people who love us when we trust that they can hold our truth, too we build deeper trust.

But here's something else I've learned: if someone consistently can't receive your 'no' without guilt-tripping, shaming, or withdrawing, it might not just be about miscommunication. It might be a misalignment in values, and that's worth looking into.

Healthy relationships are built on mutual respect, not silent compliance.

The power of no.

Saying no isn't about being cold or disconnected. It's about being real. It's about creating space for both people in the relationship to be seen and respected, not just the loudest, neediest, or most available one.

When I started saying no, in ways that were loving, clear, and grounded, I was surprised by how often it was met with empathy. Sometimes, the stress and guilt we carry about disappointing others is entirely in our own heads.

And when we do it well, a beautiful thing happens. A new kind of love is created, one where both people are free to be human. To be different. To have limits. And still stay connected.

Because real love isn't about saying yes to everything. It's about being able to say no — and still feel safe.

Feature Image: @ashanidante Instagram.

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