I used to think being “nice” was my superpower.
As a child, I’d go out of my way to make everyone around me happy—my parents, my coaches, my friends. I’d stay extra hours after practice to help my teammates. I’d volunteer to tutor in math class even if it meant missing my own free time.
On the surface, I thought I was just being considerate. But as I grew older, I realized I wasn’t merely kind; I was driven by a deep desire for approval. If someone said they needed me, I’d drop everything. Saying “no” felt like the ultimate betrayal.
Eventually, I noticed a pattern: I’d spend so much time making sure everyone else was content that I forgot about my own needs. Everything from my social plans to my career goals revolved around what others wanted.
Over time, this habit drained my energy, clouded my sense of self, and left me on the edge of burnout.
1. Understanding where the urge to please comes from
I believe many of us learn early on that our worth is linked to how helpful or agreeable we are.
In my family, I grew up watching my father, who coached high school athletics and expected discipline, and my mother, who placed high value on compassion and emotional strength. From a young age, I saw kindness as a skill that needed to be mastered—an extension of discipline but also a measure of love.
While discipline and kindness are beautiful qualities, they can morph into people-pleasing if we’re not careful.
According to a piece in Psychology Today, children who consistently receive praise for being “good” can develop a habit of seeking validation by putting themselves last. This need for external approval can linger into adulthood, shaping how we interact with bosses, friends, and even strangers.
I eventually realized that my automatic “yes” came from more than politeness. It was rooted in the fear that if I didn’t fulfill others’ expectations, I’d lose their respect and love. That fear made me anxious about letting people down, which is why I’d consistently sacrifice my own comfort just to keep everyone else happy.
2. Recognizing the impact on mental health
I had a wake-up call when a close friend noticed I was perpetually exhausted and moody. She pointed out that I was always doing favors and rarely taking time for myself.
At first, I brushed off her concerns—I assumed I was just a little tired and that life is supposed to be busy. But when I caught a head cold and couldn’t even rest without answering emails, I realized something was off.
Looking back, it wasn’t just physical burnout I was facing; it was also emotional fatigue. I felt unseen and unappreciated, even though I was constantly trying to be supportive. I’d convinced myself that being easygoing made me lovable, but in truth, it just made me resentful when people took me for granted.
Brené Brown, known for her work on vulnerability and authenticity, often emphasizes the importance of setting boundaries as a form of self-respect. If we don’t communicate how we truly feel or where our limits are, we can spiral into resentment. And when our emotional well is depleted, we can’t be fully present for ourselves or anyone else.
3. Setting boundaries (the turning point)
Change didn’t happen overnight. My first step was learning how to say “no” without guilt. I told myself that “no” is a complete sentence.
For a while, I’d over-explain my refusal—offering five different reasons I couldn’t show up. Eventually, I worked on giving a clear, concise answer: “I’m sorry, but I’m not able to do that.”
There’s a fascinating study from the Greater Good Science Center at UC Berkeley showing that people who establish clear personal boundaries often have healthier relationships.
Boundaries don’t mean you don’t care; they simply mark how you function best so that you can show up more fully for others when you genuinely want to.
On a practical level, I began small: turning down social invites when my body needed rest, or politely declining extra work assignments when my plate was already overflowing. Each “no” felt scary at first, but also liberating. Over time, I found that true friends and supportive colleagues respected these choices.
I also started journaling to identify what I genuinely wanted from each day. Ryan Holiday, known for his work on Stoic philosophy, often suggests daily reflection to pinpoint what matters most to you.
By tracking my moods and energy levels, I got a better sense of when I was operating out of people-pleasing habit rather than authentic compassion.
4. Embracing self-care as a priority
Once I got comfortable setting boundaries, I realized I needed to fill the newly freed-up time with supportive, nourishing habits.
Initially, I had no idea what to do with myself if I wasn’t busy helping someone else. The sudden pause was disorienting, so I decided to explore practices that might bring me a sense of calm and self-connection.
I started meditating daily, even if just for ten minutes. Dr. Andrew Huberman’s insights on neuroscience often highlight how mindfulness can reduce stress and improve focus (listen to the Huberman Lab Podcast, for instance).
That shift in focus from external validation to internal awareness was huge. I found that meditating wasn’t about becoming perfect at silence; it was about checking in with myself, noticing my stress levels, and allowing room for emotions I’d previously ignored.
I also got back into regular workouts, but with a new perspective: exercise wasn’t just about performance or winning; it was about feeling good in my skin. This reframed approach to fitness made each session more about self-compassion rather than punishment or proving my worth.
James Clear, in his book Atomic Habits, talks about building habits that align with the person you want to be. So instead of fueling my workouts with the pressure to excel, I fueled them with the desire to care for my body and mind.
I balanced out the workouts with other forms of self-care: Epsom salt baths, cozy evenings reading, and even a few therapy sessions to untangle any deeper issues.
This holistic approach reminded me of how my mother had always emphasized emotional well-being as part of overall health. For the first time, I saw self-care as an investment, not a selfish indulgence.
5. Celebrating progress and self-discovery
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is the importance of celebrating small wins. When you’ve spent your life molding yourself to other people’s expectations, you can forget to honor your own achievements.
Whether it’s successfully saying “no” to a request that would have drained me or spending an entire weekend recharging without guilt, each act of self-advocacy became a milestone.
Dr. Carol Dweck’s research on mindset suggests that acknowledging our growth fosters even more progress. Each time I practiced assertiveness or prioritized my well-being, I tried to recognize it with a quick moment of gratitude. I’d mentally say, “You did it. That’s progress.” Over time, these tiny celebrations rewired my thinking and made it feel natural to care for myself.
I also noticed I became a better friend, sibling, and mentor once I established these healthy boundaries. When I did choose to help someone, I did it out of genuine compassion and without hidden resentment. My father used to tell me that you have to “put on your oxygen mask first,” and I finally understood what he meant.
As for the guilt that used to swirl in my head—it’s still there sometimes. But now I see guilt as an indicator to pause, reflect, and ensure I’m not slipping into old habits. If I feel that pang, I ask myself: “Am I acting from genuine care or fear of disapproval?” That little check-in helps me stay aligned with my true intentions.
Conclusion
It’s not always easy to unlearn people-pleasing tendencies, especially if they’ve been ingrained since childhood. But it is possible. My journey taught me that prioritizing my own needs doesn’t mean I care any less for others; it means I’m equipped to be there for them in a healthier, more authentic way.
With each boundary I set and each moment of self-care, I became more aligned with who I genuinely want to be. Now, I’m not on edge about letting someone down. I can calmly assess if I have the energy and resources to help, and if I do, I give that help wholeheartedly. If I don’t, I politely decline and move forward without regret.
If you’ve been grappling with similar struggles, I hope my story encourages you to explore where your own need to please might be coming from and how you can start caring for yourself—truly and unapologetically.
