April 10th, 2025
For most of my life, I wore the “nice girl” label like a badge of honor. I said yes when I wanted to say no. I overextended, over-apologized, and over-delivered—usually at the expense of my own well-being. A people pleaser to the core, I believed that being needed was the same as being loved, and I thought being selfless meant I was strong. But I was wrong. And I was tired.
The Breaking Point
There was a time I showed up to help a friend move just hours after getting out of urgent care. I was dizzy, in pain, and could barely stand without my heart racing from POTS, my joints locking up from RA and EDS—but I smiled through it. I kept lifting boxes and scrubbing floors because I didn’t want to seem unreliable or selfish. I told myself I was being a good friend. But that night, lying in bed with my body throbbing and my energy drained beyond empty, it hit me: I didn’t do that out of love. I did it out of fear—fear of being abandoned, of being “unreliable” or “selfish.”
That fear followed me everywhere, including my career. I once modeled for a brand during Covid that continuously promised payment “when things pick up.” The designer knew I was a fan of her clothing and she used that to manipulate me. She called me one day begging me to model her clothing from my home because she feared her business would go under since she couldn’t have shoots in her studio. She promised to reimburse me for photographers that she asked me to recruit myself for these “social distance shoots.”
I paid the photographer, styled myself, did my own hair and makeup—and never saw a single dime. They used my image, my time, and my labor to promote their products, and when I followed up about payment, they vanished. No explanation, no thank you. Just silence. And I let it go—because I didn’t want to cause a scene, because I thought maybe it was my fault for trusting them in the first place.
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I’ve dropped my own plans more times than I can count to take care of other people. I used to bring groceries and run errands for my sick neighbor, even when I could barely walk myself. I’d sit with them for hours, bring care packages, and offer rides. They accepted all of it—only to abandon me in the end.
Then there were the various friends I let crash with me over the years. Letting them stay rent-free at the detriment of my own peace. I gave comfort and safety while I was breaking on the inside. They didn’t even notice.
Over the years, people have used my kindness like currency. They took my time, my loyalty, my creative energy—whether it was sharing contacts, helping them book gigs, or vouching for them in rooms they couldn’t get into alone. They used me to get ahead, and once they did, they were gone. No gratitude. No reciprocity. Just gone.
I’ve sacrificed myself in every way—physically, emotionally, financially—all in the name of being “a good friend,” “a team player,” “the reliable one.” But what I’ve learned is that if you’re not careful, people will take everything you give and still act like it wasn’t enough. And when you’re finally the one who needs something, you’ll look around and realize you’re alone.
The truth is, the more I gave, the less I was valued. And when I finally left, I didn’t feel proud—I felt used.
The Shift
Everything changed when I asked myself one powerful question: What would my life look like if I chose me first?
Saying no didn’t come easy at first. It still doesn’t. I was so conditioned to prioritize others that setting boundaries felt like rejection. But slowly, I started to speak up. I canceled plans when I was overwhelmed. I stopped overexplaining. I declined favors that drained me. And I let go of the guilt that came with protecting my peace.
Here’s what happened:
- My relationships got healthier.
The people who truly cared about me respected my boundaries. The ones who didn’t? They faded. And while it hurt at first, it made room for deeper, more reciprocal connections. I no longer felt like I was performing for love—I felt safe being real.
- I started honoring my body.
Instead of pushing through illness, fatigue, or emotional burnout, I started listening to my body’s signals. I took breaks without apology. I stopped putting others’ emergencies above my own needs. And guess what? The world didn’t fall apart.
- My work became more aligned.
I stopped saying yes to clients or projects that didn’t resonate with me just because I felt obligated. I raised my standards—and my rates. I attracted work that energized me instead of draining me. I realized that being respected was far more sustainable than being liked.
- My confidence grew.
For the first time, I didn’t need outside validation to feel worthy. I stopped tying my value to how helpful I was. I learned how to self-validate—to say “I matter,” even if no one else clapped for me. That quiet self-assurance? Life-changing.
- I found peace.
No more overthinking every text. No more replaying conversations wondering if I offended someone. No more feeling resentful because I gave too much and got too little. Just peace. A stillness I hadn’t felt in years.
Letting Go of the Old Me
Being a people pleaser wasn’t just a habit—it was a survival mechanism. It kept me safe when I didn’t know how to advocate for myself. But now? I know better. I’ve learned that you can be kind without being a doormat. You can be giving without abandoning yourself. And you can say no with love.
Not being a people pleaser is a conscious, everyday choice that requires consistent effort and self-awareness. It’s easy to fall back into old habits—saying yes when I want to say no, shrinking myself to avoid conflict, or putting others’ needs above my own just to keep the peace. But each day, I remind myself that honoring my boundaries isn’t selfish—it’s necessary. It takes intention to pause, check in with how I truly feel, and respond in a way that aligns with my values instead of defaulting to what others expect. This kind of growth doesn’t happen overnight—it’s a practice, and I choose it daily.
So if you’re still stuck in that cycle—over-giving, over-apologizing, over-functioning—I see you. But I promise: choosing yourself isn’t selfish. It’s sacred. And when you start doing it consistently, your whole life shifts.
Because the moment I stopped betraying myself to please others, I finally felt free.
