I can’t tell y’all how many times I’ve said yes because I didn’t want to be seen as a bitch.
I wanted to be kind, agreeable, easy to get along with. I wanted to be down to earth—the woman people felt comfortable approaching, the one who understood, the one who could help.
So I agreed to relationships I should have declined. I took on tasks I didn’t have room for and financial obligations I had no business carrying. Sometimes I had questions before I ever opened my mouth. Sometimes I already knew my answer. But I wanted to be perceived a certain way, and yes seemed like the price of admission.
I try to live a life of no regrets. Still, some of those decisions have haunted me. They’ve left me uneasy, overwhelmed, and responsible for things I never really wanted to pick up.
That is a strange arrangement: somebody else gets the comfort of your agreement, and you get to live with the consequences.
For a long time, I participated in that arrangement because I was afraid of what saying no would make me look like. Recently, I had an experience that helped me understand how good a different answer could feel.
The No I Needed to Hear Myself Say
Someone I love got himself into a pickle and asked if he could stay in my house. At first, I said yes.
Then I reflected on our conversation: how he had yelled at me, gaslit me, and said horrible things to me. After all of that, I had still agreed to let him stay.
Once I gave myself time to think, I realized I didn’t want to follow through on that agreement. I took my yes back and said no.
Y’all, that no felt so good I started looking for other opportunities to use it.
No loud. No quiet. No in a song. No while I danced.
I apparently had a whole collection of noes waiting to get out.
The relief mattered. I had acknowledged something I knew about what I wanted in my own home, and I had allowed that knowledge to shape my answer. I loved this person. I did not want him staying with me. Both were true, and I finally made a decision that accounted for both.
That experience also left me with a question: Why had I needed to agree first and consider myself afterward?
When Being Agreeable Becomes an Obligation
Being easy to get along with can sound like an uncomplicated compliment. Who wants to be difficult?
But easy for whom? And what does keeping things easy require?
If being agreeable means I can never disappoint anyone, then every request comes with an obligation to manage how the other person feels about my answer. Before I consider my time, money, home, or desire, I’m already considering their opinion of me.
Will they think I’m selfish? Will they say I’ve changed? Will they remind me of what they’ve done for me? Will they decide I’m a bitch?
Those questions can get so loud that the actual decision barely gets a hearing.
Women, especially mothers, can become very practiced at anticipating needs and figuring out how to meet them. That ability has value. People depend on us, and we care about them. But when every need becomes our assignment, we can end up making commitments faster than we can assess them.
Then the assessment happens later, when we’re staring at the calendar, moving money around, or trying to finish our own work after everybody else has gone to bed.
By then, somebody is counting on the yes we gave.
There has to be room to think before we get there.
What “I’m Fine” Taught Me About Taking a Beat
My cousin makes fun of me because when I’m upset, I say, “I’m fine.”
Clearly, I am not fine. Clearly, something is wrong. Nobody involved is confused about that.
But there is a history behind those words. When I was younger, I had a bad temper—an explosive temper. I was a hothead. “I’m fine” became one way I learned to take a beat, sometimes by myself, so I could calm down, think, and recenter before responding.
There is work happening inside that “I’m fine.”
The phrase may not explain everything I’m feeling, but it creates an interval between the feeling and what I do next. And I’ve started thinking that decisions need an interval, too.
When somebody asks for something, I need enough space to consider what I’m being asked to give. Otherwise, my wish to seem kind can answer before the rest of me has caught up.
My daughter gave me useful language for that space.
I asked her for something, and she said, “Let me check.”
I knew what that “let me check” meant. But it allowed both of us to take a beat. Some of the tension came out of the exchange. She had room to consider her answer, and I had room to wait.
Then she returned with a very resolute no.
I would have preferred another answer. Still, I could appreciate what had happened between the request and the response. “Let me check” had done some work for us.
I could use that.
Check More Than Your Calendar
“Let me check” sounds like a scheduling response, but there is more to check than whether an hour is technically available.
An open evening may be the only time you have to rest. Money in an account may already have a purpose. Being able to complete a task does not mean you can absorb everything that comes with it.
Here’s a way to practice with your next nonurgent request.
1. Pause before agreeing.
“Let me check what I can take on. I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”
2. Check the whole cost.
What would this require you to move, spend, or give up? Include your rest and your own plans, not just your free time.
3. Give an honest answer.
Yes: “I can help for an hour, but not the whole afternoon.”
No: “I won’t be able to take that on.”
Not yet: “I need the full cost before I decide.”
4. Follow through.
If you promised an answer, give one. A pause shouldn’t leave someone waiting indefinitely.
5. Give yourself a fair hearing too.
Instead of automatically dismissing something you want, ask what would make it possible. Make a workable plan for it.
Pleasure Needs a Considered Yes, Too
That last step deserves a little more room. This is Pleasure & Power, and I also want us to consider what we keep refusing ourselves.
How quickly do you dismiss something you would enjoy?
A trip costs money, so you close the page. A class meets in the evening, so you assume there’s no way. You want an afternoon alone, but somebody might need something, so you never make the plan.
Meanwhile, an unexpected request from somebody else can send you into a full investigation of how to rearrange your life.
Our desires deserve some of that consideration.
You may discover that the trip is out of reach right now. You may also discover that a different date, a smaller version, or a savings plan would make it possible. The class may require a conversation about childcare. The afternoon may require telling people you will be unavailable and arranging for responsibilities that cannot wait.
These are real conditions. Pleasure has to exist alongside them. But if we never examine the conditions, we can spend years treating every desire as impossible before finding out what it would actually take.
A yes to yourself deserves more than whatever is left after you’ve answered everyone else.
Give “Not Yet” Something Specific to Do
Sometimes you know you want something, but the current arrangement doesn’t work. “Not yet” can help you hold that distinction.
The useful question is: What needs to change?
Perhaps you need the full cost before agreeing to a financial obligation. Perhaps you need to know how much work a project involves. Perhaps you want an experience and need time to gather the money or support.
Naming the missing condition gives you something to act on. You can ask a question, propose different terms, make a plan, or choose a date to revisit the decision.
It can also reveal when you’re using “not yet” to avoid a no.
If the money, time, and support were available, would you want to do it? If the answer is still no, that deserves your attention. Keeping a possibility open indefinitely can leave both you and the other person waiting for an answer you already have.
An Answer You Can Live With
Taking back my agreement about my home meant revisiting something I had already said. Sometimes we need to do that. When an existing commitment changes, we need to communicate clearly, acknowledge its effect, and address any responsibilities that remain.
But I want to get better at considering myself before I agree.
I want kindness to include honesty about what I can offer. I want my yes to reflect something I have actually chosen. And I want enough room to recognize when I need different conditions—or when my answer is simply no.
This week, choose one nonurgent decision and give yourself a beat before answering. Check the practical facts. Check what you want. Notice whether your concern about being perceived a certain way is making the decision for you.
Then give the clearest answer you can honor.
I still want to be kind. I still want to love people well. I also want to live a life I have some say in shaping, with room to enjoy what I’m working so hard to build.
So before I volunteer my house, my money, my afternoon, or the last bit of patience I had planned to use for myself, I’m practicing three words.
Let me check.