How to Become a People-Pleaser with Five Basic Steps: The Unofficial Guide to a Life You Didn’t Ask For (But Totally Nailed)
Grow up in a house with no boundaries. What are boundaries, anyway?
Have adults/parents/caretakers who lack awareness and use your desire to help as a way to get their own emotional needs met. I might be three years old, but I can carry the emotional load of a sherpa and make everyone happy.
Be sure to have your self-esteem in the crapper. Who needs self-esteem when you can live the life of a people-pleaser and believe you don’t have needs?
Seek external validation and fear the threat of disappointing others or being criticized if a need isn’t met. Anxiety really amps this up a notch. If it’s not there, focus on building it for the sweet spot of being the expert people-pleaser.
Be sure to base your self-worth on what others think of you. Your intrinsic worth doesn’t matter when you’re busy juggling the needs of everyone.
Congratulations! You’re well on your way to a life shackled by people-pleasing, without the ability to say no for yourself.
The Life You’re Nailing That’s Draining You
You feel drained for good reason. The official guide had the most crucial chapters torn out by family for their own agenda. There’s a dark side to the life of being a people pleaser. It’s the moment you realize your life is about serving others and your needs don’t matter. You didn’t learn how to break free, because keeping you stuck served the people in your life. Having needs went against this, which is why they ripped out those pages. It doesn’t tell you how the world will push hard to keep you stuck in the version of yourself others need you to be.
I’d nailed the life of a people pleaser by the age of seven without even knowing what it was. I was raised in a family to say yes at all times. YES was the only acceptable answer. NO was perceived as being difficult or defiant. There was only one right answer to put you on the path of people-pleasing enlightenment with a buffet loaded with high praise and external validation. It made you feel like you had purpose. Being counted on was the elixir to any upheaval in life. I was drunk on all praise being the good girl, the helpful one, the go-to person who could do it all. I learned to juggle fifty objects in one hand, while helping with the other, and mentally taking notes on how to make it easier for everyone around me. Exhaustion? I’d sleep when I was dead.
By the time I hit adulthood, my nervous system was on autopilot. I felt stuck on a carousel ride I couldn’t get off because everyone needed me. I needed to be needed. I had no idea who I was if I wasn’t. I didn’t stop to consider there was any other way, despite feeling drained to my soul. I’d push myself to the brink, even self-sabotaging, to perform the people-pleasing gymnastics when I overbooked myself, desperate to show how accommodating I was and to make life easier for others. People were wowed by my emotional prowess. I was practically medaling in all the events for people-pleasing, despite feeling like I had a slow leak in one of my tires. I couldn’t tell which one. I kept driving, even on a flat.
Feelings. What are these icky things?
Throughout my decorated career of people pleasing, I noticed I’d get a lot of headaches, stomachaches, insomnia, and chronic pain. My results from a medical perspective were healthy.
My body was telling me otherwise. I needed to slow down. The more I attempted to slow down, I noticed the sensations I was avoiding and why my body was talking to me. I started to notice bubbling resentment in my gut. Flickers of anger pinging in my chest. Shards of pain in my back when I felt taken for granted. The more I shoved down my feelings, I felt depressed. If I didn’t shove them down, I’d be forced to face the feelings. That was a terrifying concept to sit with: feelings. When I shared with my parents I felt depressed, they’d say, “You have a great life. Stop being so ungrateful.” Except I wasn’t ungrateful. It was a hollowness I felt inside me. A sadness I couldn’t outrun by doing for others. I’ve always had an anxious vibe, befitting of the people pleaser manual. Per the guide, I had mastery with this pre-requisite for the high achieving people pleaser. It became more intense with every year and perfecting people-pleasing within an inch of its life. Sometimes, it felt like I’d vibrate right out of my body.
When I was in my late twenties, I started this thing called, therapy, and I learned a word called, boundaries. I snort laughed when the therapist talked about it. What the hell am I supposed to do with boundaries? Have you met the people in my life? My first attempt at a boundary was like walking outside forgetting to put on a lick of clothing, with my front door locking shut behind me. I was terrified to disappoint and be perceived as mean or selfish. I didn’t understand that saying ‘no’ was an acceptable response, or that a boundary was a basic way to show others how I wanted to be treated.
In case you’re wondering, it didn’t go well. It was chaotic and messy. I popped so many U-turns, I gave myself whiplash trying to break free of the version expected of me and the one I was curious to become.
I had to create space from people in my life. It took years because I’d feel sick to my stomach, more worried about disappointing others than the crushing fact I was constantly disappointing myself. It’d take time to understand I mattered. I was allowed to have needs. I had to build self-esteem and confidence to embody those beliefs.
I Burned the Damn Book
The real work began when I did a deep dive into my life. I started trauma therapy and learned how to be the main character in my own story. I had to learn why people-pleasing was important. It was a way to keep me safe from feeling rejection, criticism, or being shamed. It was a way to carve myself into a round peg to fit into a round hole. It let me fit in, even if people only knew that version of me. My value was inherently tied to what I could do for others. I didn’t believe I was worthy without the qualifier of a people pleaser. I was afraid to show the real me. What if I wasn’t accepted for just me?
By the time I graduated college, fully indoctrinated by people-pleasing, I felt like a robot, doing what was needed of me. I had no sense of self, terrified of messing up or failing. I heavily relied on others’ opinions, which meant I lacked the self-trust to pursue the doctorate in psychology I felt in my bones. My parents, instead of giving me the supportive nudge to say, Go for it. You got this, didn’t like the career path. They pushed hard for me to go into teaching. They envisioned a life neatly packaged for me: A white picket fence, a husband, children, a job to keep the focus on what they believed worked for their vision and needs. They wanted grandchildren more than they wanted me (chapter 532: When I learned my imaginary children were more valuable than the daughter standing in front of them). Teaching was something safe, demure, and under their control. To venture into the unknown of something I felt passionate about and wanted since I was ten years old was intimidating for them. They feared the change, knowing I was becoming someone they couldn’t control. They were unwilling to accept the person I could have stepped into all those years ago.
Instead of trusting my gut, I did what they wanted. I spent years unhappy, job-hopping and career-hopping, always doing what others suggested, never fully trusting myself. After eight different jobs between education and sales, I finally said, ‘ENOUGH.’ I went back to graduate school for psychology at thirty-one and never looked back. It was exactly where I was always meant to be.
This decision was met with criticism and a distinct lack of support from them. “Maria, we’ve never seen you more depressed since you’ve been in this field.” Really? Because I was never more me, feeling like I could breathe. I was happy. Their gaslighting days were over. This was my undeniable moment of burning the damn book and breaking free. I wasn’t shrinking, contorting and dying inside just to stay small, compliant and a yes person. It shifted our relationship. It’s something I continue to work through and grieve to this day.
I pruned my life like a manic gardener. Each cut was intimidating, filled with uncertainty I was completely fucking it all up. Still, a quiet, deep knowing in my gut encouraged me to keep going, no matter how terrifying it felt in difficult moments. I had to trust myself, leaning into the unknown as I let go of unhealthy patterns and people to create space for a new way of being. I had to learn to say ‘YES’ to myself. There were a few years I walked alone to fully connect with myself, to tune out the noise to explore who I was underneath the shield of people pleasing. I had to be brave to understand a ‘yes’ deserved to be consensual, not obligatory. It took a ton of practice. And by a ton, the work doesn’t end. It’s a lifelong endeavor. I learned the more I said ‘NO,’ it allowed me to say ‘YES’ to the life I desired. I found liberation in choosing myself and a life worth living.
Nailing Life as Just You
The defining moment you know you are nailing life is when you can handle disappointing others instead of yourself. It’s when the pattern begins to unravel that’s kept you locked in for everyone else’s life. Choosing yourself and recognizing you have needs and you matter isn’t selfish. It’s a call to action. Taking the steps to disrupt the patterns no longer serving you is healthy. This life is a gift. I encourage you to live a life of your own design, filled with people who accept you for you. Not what you can do for them.