"My stomach twisted into that familiar knot-the one I got every time someone asked me for something. The one that whispered, "If you say no, they won't love you anymore." But something was different this time. Maybe it was because I'd just left therapy, where I'd spent the entire session crying about how exhausted I was. Maybe it was because I'd canceled that same therapy appointment three times in the past two months to help other people."
"For as long as I could remember, I was the person everyone called when they needed something. Need someone to cover your shift? Call me. Need a ride to the airport at 5 a.m.? I'm there. Need someone to listen to your problems for three hours? I'll cancel my plans. I told myself it made me a good person. A kind person. A valuable person. But the truth I couldn't admit was that I wasn't being helpful. I was only being terrified."
A single "No" released twenty-eight years of carried weight. The narrator routinely prioritized others' requests, canceling therapy and personal plans to remain helpful. Phone calls and favors triggered anxiety born of fearing rejection and loss of love. Sitting in a grocery parking lot prompted a breaking point; the narrator let a cousin's call go to voicemail. Therapy and exhaustion highlighted the pattern of people-pleasing and mounting resentment. The narrator recognized that constant acquiescence stemmed from terror, not virtue. Establishing boundaries by refusing additional demands began to lift the burden and protect personal well-being. The experience reframed kindness as self-care rather than self-sacrifice.
Read at Tiny Buddha
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