The Hidden Costs of People-Pleasing Behavior

People-pleasing has always been a way of showing people that I care. It’s been my way of letting others know that I’m there for them when they need me, or that I’m readily available at any given time to listen, offer advice, and go along with anything that will bring them joy. This has happened my whole life, but I’ve realized just how much it takes pieces of me away.

My friends mean the world to me. I found them early on in life, and I haven’t let them go. We grew up in a very tight-knit group. We’d always be the teenagers walking around town, going to the park late at night, and spending countless hours hanging out at each other’s houses. We essentially became family. But even with that closeness, there still came insecurities, self-doubt, and worry that I’d be left behind. So whenever I was asked to do something or go somewhere I didn’t want to go, I’d stand up enthusiastically and say yes without a second thought.

Saying yes has brought me into a lot of unfamiliar situations that caused me intense overwhelm and anxiety. Most of the time, I say yes as an automatic reaction. I feel like I don’t have enough time to process and come to an answer, so I’ll just blurt out a “sure, whatever you need,” even in those moments that cause me internal strife. I just can’t seem to help it. It has become so natural for me now.

Sometimes people-pleasing isn’t about being kind. It’s about being so afraid of rejection that you abandon yourself in the process.

Recently, I was hanging out with a friend I’ve known since preschool. Over the years, we’d often not communicate for years, but would reconnect every once in a while. But I’d say over the past five years or so, we’ve been seeing each other nearly every week. We’ve always had an incredible bond. She’s neurodivergent too, so we get each other on a lot of different levels. There is a comfort there, knowing that someone truly gets you and sees you for who you really are. But even with that, she often makes me feel like my problems play second fiddle to hers.

All we ever talk about is her. Whenever I try to bring up a story or tell her about things going on in my life, it’s redirected toward her and her stories. I feel like she doesn’t care about what I have to say. The other day, I told her how upset I was that my therapist left the company I’m with, and her response was, “I’m sorry,” and then we moved on to talk about something entirely different. I thought she’d know how badly I needed to vent, or how much I needed a friend in that moment. But I didn’t get the same courtesy I always show her when she’s feeling down.

And the thing is, I’m on her schedule. We’ll hang out when she requests. And me? I follow along like a puppy dog, dropping plans to go be with her. We also never leave her house. We never go outside and do anything fun. She never invites me out anywhere. She’s a homebody, and I understand that, but when I see she goes out with other people on occasion, it leaves me feeling left out, stepped on, and just used for whenever she needs me.

The other day, we had planned a trip to go to the Getty Museum. One of her friends was performing there, so she wanted to go show support. She was very strict on the time, so I got to her house early to make sure I was there. I walked in, and I asked her if she was excited to go. She said yes and proceeded to get ready—got dressed, put on makeup, grabbed her bag and belongings. And then, the moment we were about to walk out the door, she pulled what she always pulls: “I don’t want to go.” Then she was like, “I forgot, I could watch it on YouTube.” So here I’m thinking, well, since she didn’t want to go, that leaves us time to hang out. And what does she do? Tells me she wants a nap. So I left upset and angry with her. I had gotten dressed up and pushed myself to go, even though I didn’t really want to in the first place. But I sucked it up because I told her I’d be there. So to all of a sudden be dropped like that made me furious.

I said to myself that I wasn’t going to talk to her for a good while because I realized just how much I’ve been used. I think she only invited me in the first place because she never likes to go anywhere alone, and she knew I was the only friend available. And the thing is, I know she would’ve gone if it was someone other than me. It makes me feel like she doesn’t understand my neurodivergence and how badly I experience rejection sensitivity. Because at the end of the day, I was, in fact, rejected. I would think she’d see that and understand it. But like I said, she’s very self-absorbed.

I’m not sure why I put up with it, or why I’m so fearful of even talking to her about it. I don’t like confrontation, and I certainly don’t want her to think differently of me. She’s pretty much the only friend I have out here. All my other friends live out of state. So perhaps that’s why I fear bringing it up. I don’t want to lose her and be stuck without a lifeline to the outside world.

I know that silence about it isn’t the best way to go about healing, but it’s really hard for me to express how I’m truly feeling because of that fear of rejection.

That’s why I always say yes. Yes makes it so much easier than no. But I’ve realized, mostly ever since I was diagnosed, that it only hurts me in the end. I’ve learned that saying no is a strong stance, and by saying it, it’s not only courageous, but also a step toward healing the parts of me that I neglected over the years by being too much of a people-pleaser.

I still struggle with this, no doubt, but as each day passes, I worry less about what other people think. In fact, regardless of how scary it might be, I told my friend that I needed to talk to her about the things that have been bothering me. Something that I’d never do, but my hurt has been stretched for far too long, and it’s time for me to speak my truth.

I think I might always struggle, but I know that little by little, I’m getting stronger every day.

What do you think will happen if you say no? Be honest about the hard parts, but also consider what saying no might protect, preserve, or heal in you.