Confessions Of A Recovering People Pleaser

The Not-So-Subtle Art Of Not Giving A F*ck

Jul 02, 2026

people holding placards — Photo by Kristel Hayes on Unsplash

If people-pleasing were an Olympic sport, I would have a closet full of gold medals.

I spent decades trying to keep everyone happy. Family. Friends. Coworkers. Complete strangers. Even random people on the internet who were clearly committed to misunderstanding me.

It’s an exhausting hobby. I do not recommend it.

Growing up agnostic in a Southern Baptist family, I always felt like the odd duck. While everyone else seemed certain about God and Jesus, I quietly collected questions instead of answers.

I wasn’t trying to start a theological cage match.
I just couldn’t pretend certainty when I wasn’t certain.

Then there was the whole “gay” thing.

Before I even had the words for it, I knew I was different. Like a lot of LGBTQ folks, I learned to read the room, keep the peace, and become whatever version of myself made everyone else comfortable.

The problem is, after a while, I forgot what made me comfortable.

People often confuse people-pleasing with kindness. They are not the same thing.

Kindness comes from generosity.

People-pleasing usually comes from fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of conflict. Fear that if someone doesn’t like you, the universe might implode.

For years, I said yes when I wanted to say no. I apologized for things that weren’t my fault. I overexplained every decision like I was lip-syncing for my life.

No matter how accommodating I was, someone still thought I was rude. Or crude. Or both. No matter how generous I was, someone always wanted more. A lot more.

I’ve tested this theory extensively. If not scientifically.

One of the unexpected gifts of getting older is realizing that disappointing people isn’t always a failure. Sometimes it’s proof you’re finally respecting yourself.

These days, I’m better at setting boundaries. Not perfect. But better.

I decline invitations without writing a three-paragraph apology. I don’t answer every text the second it arrives. And every now and then, I simply say, “No.”

No elaborate excuses.
No fictional scheduling conflicts.
Just...no.

It still feels a little weird. Fifty-plus years of programming doesn’t disappear overnight. Every so often, that little voice asks, “What if they’re mad at you?”

Maybe they are. Oh. Well. I’ll live.

One thing I’ve learned is that people who genuinely care about you usually respect your boundaries. The ones who complain the loudest are often the ones who benefited most from you not having any. Funny how that works.

Personally, I’m still a work-in-progress. I still like helping people. I still want to be kind.

But I’m finally learning that kindness doesn’t require self-sacrifice. You can be compassionate without becoming a doormat. You can be generous without running yourself ragged.

For most of my life, I thought being a good person meant making everyone else comfortable.

Now I think being a good person starts with being honest about who you are, what you believe, and what you need.

Some people will love that version of you. Some won’t.
Either way, they’ll be reacting to the real you.

And after a lifetime of trying to be everything for everyone, that feels a whole lot more authentic than collecting yet another gold medal in people-pleasing.

Keep calm and keep strong!
Clint 🌈✌️