I’ve always been the friend with the right words: the go-to pep talker.
I’m the “don’t text them again,” “you’ve got this,” and “you deserve better” friend. I hand out little mantras like candy, and I mean every single one. But when I need those same reminders, it’s like I have total memory loss.
I’ll be the first to tell someone to “rest,” “protect your peace,” “say no,” and “don’t overthink it.” But when it comes to applying that energy to my own life, suddenly I’m a burnt-out overthinker saying yes to things I don’t want to do and constantly refreshing my email to see if someone needs something from me.
There’s a quiet disconnect between what I believe and what I practice. And I don’t think I’m alone in that.
According to a study published in Psychological Science, people exhibit a phenomenon known as “Solomon’s Paradox,” where they tend to reason more wisely when considering other people’s problems than their own. The idea is that we are better at giving sound, objective advice when we aren’t emotionally invested in the outcome. However, when it comes to ourselves, our ego, fear, and self-doubt often cloud our judgment.
And honestly? That checks out. I’ll tell a friend not to pressure themselves to be perfect, then be hard on myself for needing an extension on an assignment. I’ll say, “You’re not responsible for everyone else’s emotions,” and then rewrite a message six times to make sure it doesn’t sound too assertive. I’ll tell others their value isn’t based on productivity, while judging my worth by how much I’ve checked off my to-do list.
Giving advice lets us step back from the messiness of our own lives. It’s easier to play the role of the wise friend than to be the one who’s struggling. In places where the pressure is nonstop, like school, work, and relationships, it’s so easy to fall into a trap of expecting perfection from ourselves. We tell others to be kind to themselves, to take a break, to breathe — but when it comes to us? That same compassion goes out the window.
Lately, I’ve been asking myself: What would happen if I actually took my own advice?
What if I actually trusted my own boundaries without feeling like I had to apologize for them? What if I really believed it’s okay to slow down, to not be constantly doing something? What if I stopped treating rest, compassion, or joy like rewards I have to earn, and just let myself have them?
Honestly, I’d probably feel steadier… I wouldn’t just look calm, I’d be calm. I’d stop shaping my feelings to fit what’s comfortable for other people and start honouring them for what they really are. I might even disappoint people less, not because I was trying harder, but because I’d be showing up as my actual self.
I still say “yes” too quickly. I still catch myself over-explaining things that don’t need a reason. But I’m trying. I’m learning to be gentler with myself. Learning to say “no” without guilt, and “yes” with intention. Learning to treat rest not as something I have to earn, but as something I’m already worthy of.
Taking your own advice is a muscle — one that needs to be exercised regularly to grow. It requires self-awareness, patience, and a whole lot of unlearning. But with time, I believe it gets easier.
The truth is, the advice I give my friends is generally good. Now it’s just my turn to listen to my advice!