I used to think I wasn't a people pleaser. I've always been pretty good at saying no to plans when I need space. My friends know I'm a tired girl who needs a lot of quiet & they've come to love that about me. So for a long time I thought, I have good boundaries. I'm fine.
& then I noticed the way I sit on other people's couches.
Legs crossed. Tucked in. Taking up as little space as possible so no one has to accommodate me. So no one looks over & thinks holy shit, princess, here you go. I noticed I tiptoe through houses so I don't wake anyone. I eat quietly around others so I don't disturb. I don't stay the night so I won't overstay my welcome. I sit in the back of the room. I go quiet in groups. I swallow the thing that's bothering me because I don't want to be the girl who complains.
That's people pleasing. Not the dramatic kind, not the kind where you can't say no to anything. The quiet kind. The kind that lives in your body, in the way you physically make yourself smaller so no one is ever inconvenienced by your existence.
I think this is actually the more common version of people pleasing that nobody talks about. We talk a lot about not being able to say no, to plans, to requests, to demands on our time. But this other kind is subtler & in some ways harder to catch because it doesn't feel like a choice. It just feels like being considerate. Being easy. Being the kind of person nobody ever has to worry about.
What it actually is, is a slow disappearing act.
For me it also shows up in what I don't say. Not speaking my mind fully when I've just met someone. Being more careful with my opinions around people I admire because I want them to see me a certain way. Holding back the real thing because the real thing might take up too much space, might be too much, might make someone like me less.
& here's where it gets interesting, & a little embarrassing to admit. I also people please by staying. Staying in friendships past their expiration date. Staying in dynamics that stopped serving me because I don't want to hurt anyone. I'll feel it, that quiet knowing that something is done, & instead of honoring it, I'll stay. To spare them. To be kind. To not be the one who causes pain.
& then one of two things happens. Either they end it on their terms, & I'm left sitting with this wild bitterness because this was my idea, I was just trying to protect you. Or I finally say something, they plead, & I fold, because someone wanting me to stay feels like enough of a reason to stay. & then the resentment just quietly compounds.
I've had to sit with the uncomfortable truth that the bitterness I carry in those situations is largely my own doing. Not because my feelings weren't valid. They were. But because I chose staying small over speaking truth, over & over, & then felt robbed of something I never actually tried to claim.
That's the cost of people pleasing that nobody talks about. It's not just that you give too much. It's that you slowly stop trusting yourself. Every time you swallow the thing that's true, every time you cross your legs a little tighter & take up a little less space, you send yourself the message that your comfort doesn't matter enough to protect. & after a while, you start to believe it.
I'm still working on this. I don't have a tidy resolution to offer you. What I do have is the awareness, which I genuinely believe is the first step toward anything changing. Noticing the crossed legs. Noticing the swallowed sentence. Noticing when I'm tiptoeing & asking myself, what am I afraid will happen if I just walk normally?
The answer, almost every time, is nothing. Nobody is waiting for me to take up too much space. The version of me I've been trying so hard not to be, too loud, too much, too real, is usually just the version of me that's actually here.
& she deserves to take up space. She always did.
If you're ready to start coming back to yourself, to the version of you that doesn't have to shrink to be loved, my free guide Remembrance is a gentle place to begin. & The Soft Landing was made for the woman who is tired of making herself small & ready to finally come home to herself.
You're allowed to take up space. Always.
Stay close,
Jess