I’ve recently been practising saying no. No. Non. Nah. Nope. Nay.
As you can see, I’m getting pretty good at it. But it hasn’t always come easy to me. I am naturally what you might describe as a keen bean, an eager beaver or, indeed, a people pleaser. Saying yes to invitations, requests and suggestions, whether explicit or implicit, was my jam, it was my bread and butter, and my peanut butter too. By which I mean, it was everything. There was nothing else. I was unaware that there were other options, other choices, other legitimate ways in which to move forward.
Let me clarify: I have known and understood the meaning of the word no from a young age. There are a small number of people in my life who can testify to that, and plenty of confused dogs. But, when it comes to human interactions, I was unaware of the full utility of the word no until much more recently. The problem, I suppose, lies somewhere between the genetic wiring of us social primates, my ongoing cultural conditioning into a “well behaved woman”, and my aforementioned beany keenness. The word yes just brings so much light, have you noticed? It offers connection, opportunity, joy, commitment, relief, acceptance. Who wouldn’t want to be the one to deliver these wonderful things to the humans in their life?!
It’s impossible, of course, to say yes to everything. It’s impossible to say yes to everyone. I came to find that that little buzz of saying yes to others, of being able to fulfil their needs, was pretty addictive. But something had to give. And so the one that I said no to was me. I didn’t actively say no, I’m not even sure I was aware I was saying no. It was more like a no due to the omission of a yes.
The shift came out of necessity. I had to start saying yes to rest, and saying yes to some other fundamental Emily needs. Along with that, I recognised that I had to also start saying no. Saying yes to rest was, at times, glorious. I adore my bed, relaxing feels good, and I knew it was what I needed. But saying no to other things seemed to take the shine off and make things somewhat more complicated. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to rest, it’s that I didn’t want to not do all the other things too. The most painful complication came when saying no meant not only missing out but letting other people down.
I’m using the past tense here as a defence mechanism. It’s true that these things felt more acute back in the early days of my journey with rest, but their presence is just as true today. Very recently, in fact, the pull to say yes to an activity when I knew I needed to say no was right in front of me. I lured myself towards the benefits of saying yes with that familiar comfort of going where others had invited me, where others expected me perhaps. By the time I faced up to saying no, it was very late in the game. I ended up feeling flaky and I knew I had let some people down. But I also knew that I needed to say no, I needed to say yes to rest. Ultimately, I’m glad that I said no, and I know that I need to keep practising…
No, thanks, I’m going to rest
No to this, yes to rest
Yes, I would like to rest now
Yes, please, extra rest for me
Yes to some “me time” with a side order of rest and relaxation
Yes, I would love to rest, how kind of me to offer
RSVP: Happily accept my invitation to rest