I used to think that the heaviest things I carried were my books and my schoolbag, or the endless deadlines. Turns out, the heaviest thing I carried everywhere till it drained me out was one simple 3-letter word: “yes”.
I carried it everywhere: into conversations I wasn’t included in (until I smiled and agreed to every word they said with the word “yes”), into commitments I couldn’t keep, into nights where I stayed awake helping others while neglecting myself.
I said “yes” because it felt easier than saying no and watching someone who might actually like me feel disappointed in me. I said yes, because I thought caring meant never having limits or boundaries.
But one day, after stretching myself thin YET AGAIN, I asked myself a question that changed everything: “How to care without crumbling yourself?”
When caring TURNED INTO SELF-ERASURE.
Somewhere along the way, I started confusing caring and kindness with compliance. Every time someone needed something, I’d shrink my own needs to make space for theirs. At first, it felt noble; like being the dependable friend, the accommodating classmate.
But slowly, I realised something. I stopped showing up for myself. It was small, almost invisible, the kind of self-erasure you don’t notice until you’re already halfway gone. It was skipping lunch to help someone finish an assignment. I agreed to a plan I didn’t want, just to avoid the awkwardness of declining.
It was saying “it’s fine, I can manage” when I absolutely, undeniably could not. It was carrying everyone’s emotions, expectations, and disappointments as if they were my personal responsibility.
The truth i didn’t want to face.
And the scariest part? People didn’t force me into this role. I told myself it was kindness. I told myself it was loyalty. I told myself that being needed was the same as being valued.
But here’s the truth I was afraid to admit: Being needed is not the same as being respected. And being available to everyone often means being unavailable to yourself. The more I said yes, the more people expected me to.
The more they expected me to, the less space I had to exist as a person with my own limits. And the more I disappeared behind the nice, agreeable, always-there version of me… the more disconnected I felt from the real me.
It took me a long time to finally realise it, but people-pleasing and being available to cater to everyone’s needs 24/7 because you want to be needed, is not love. It’s fear; fear of being rejected, fear of disappointing others, fear of not being good enough unless you’re constantly giving, even when it crumbles you.
the courage to say no.
So I finally did the thing I had been terrified of for years: I started saying no.
It wasn’t something earth-shattering dramatic, it gradually built up, the courage, the boundaries, the limits. Small moments where I chose myself. And, it wasn’t like the ground shook or something, I just started breathing freely again.
Setting boundaries didn’t make me less caring. It made me more intentional, it made my relationships even more healthier. It made my yes genuine instead of exhausted. It honestly, felt relieving. I felt like people respected me as well, since I respected MYSELF and my boundaries.
It made me realise a truth I wish I had learned earlier: Caring shouldn’t cost you yourself.
We talk so much about kindness, empathy, and being there for others, but rarely about the courage it takes to be there for yourself.
To choose rest over approval.
To choose honesty over overextending.
To choose peace over performative kindness.
You’re allowed to care without crumbling.
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