This morning I lounged outside in the sun and read the entire newspaper, a luxury I hadn't enjoyed in quite a while. As I sipped a second cup of coffee I thought, "This is the day. Today I will write that post about saying no." It's a subject I'd been pondering for the last month. Like many--maybe most--women who grew up in the 50s, I always had an aversion to saying no. Why was it so difficult? Perhaps it was wanting to be perceived as well-behaved and nice or just wanting to be liked. Whatever the cause, my reluctance to say no eventually became a problem. And I suspect it's still a problem for many women today, whatever their age.
Recently I spent a long girl’s only weekend with my 40ish stepdaughter. We talked and talked the days and nights away, and the subject that got the most attention was setting boundaries and saying no. She is struggling with this very issue and I was happy that I had some encouragement and insight to share.
Last month, as I was rushing around trying to plow through a long list of tasks, my husband and son walked in from a game of golf. My 31 year old son, who we see once every week or two, said, “Mom, why are you always so busy these days?” It took only a second for my husband to pipe up with his daily mantra: “You have taken on too much. You don’t know how to say no. You are going to get sick.” He was partly right because I did get sick. I found out the hard way that pneumonia is nothing to ignore and has an ugly way of sticking around if you don’t take care of it. But on the other two issues he was dead wrong. I won’t admit to having taken on too much. Normally, the simple things I’d signed on to do would have been done easily, quickly, and joyfully, but some last-minute out-of-town trips and a series of unexpected out-of-town guests threw my timing off. When I finally did have the time to get back to these commitments, time was running out and I had to bust in and give it my all. But my husband was most wrong about the not-knowing-how-to-say-no part. I do know how to say no, but I didn’t always. I learned this about 10 years ago, out of necessity, and learned it from the one person whom I didn’t expect would ever teach me a life lesson: my son, who at the time was in his early twenties and struggling with his own personal issues.
But, first, a little background: I'm pretty good with time management. I can allot a reasonable amount of time to a project and then move on without getting OCD over perfection. I have high energy, frequently multi-task and can re-focus quickly when necessary -- all skills I've worked on over the years. I have to credit my parents for nurturing these skills in my brother and me since childhood. It's simply the way they ran our family. Having a lot of interests and being good at most of them were the family standards. What made it work, I think, was that we were given freedom to do things our own way. Criticisms were rare; helpful suggestions were there if we needed them. I remember praise, but not a lot; being competent was just expected. I loved growing up this way as it gave me self-confidence. As a girl, I had always loved to sew. When I was in 6th grade, my parents bought me a sewing machine, signed me up for sewing classes and expected me to start making my own clothes. I did, and my entire junior high and high school wardrobe was proudly made by me. My parents weren't being stingy, they were being kind. I was small for my age and this was the era before the petite section. They knew I dreaded entering junior high with my childish wardrobe. Now even a toddler can dress like a Kardashian, but not so in 1964!
When I got out into the world I was surprised that not everyone approached tasks the way my family did. At my first job I saw someone say no to a task because she was afraid of failure. Being afraid to fail had never occurred to me; I'd been taught that failure was just part of learning to do something right in the long run. What was the big deal? I watched another co-worker continually miss deadlines because she was seeking an impossible perfection. I'd learned that there are times to pronounce something "perfect enough" and move on. I quickly fell into the role of the go-to person, taking on more and more responsibility. My boss loved me and I loved sitting in my own office, only 21 years old but certain I could do my job well.
So then, 30 years later, how did this fabulous can-do spirit with all this reliability and competence start to feel wrong? It took a while I know, decades I guess, but I started to feel a bit put-upon. Was I being taken for granted? Were friends and family dumping things on me that they didn’t want to do? Was I hearing, “Kristen, you do this, you can do it so well!” and, “Here, you can do this so quickly, it would take me ages!” a little too often? Once at a party, a man whom I admired was in charge of a Christmas bash to raise funds for an organization I admired. He put his arm around me and beamed down and said, "Kristen, I can only trust you with this, as you are just so creative and competent." The next thing I knew, I had agreed to made 200 individual desserts and deliver them on the same day I was having my own Christmas party. Things had clearly gotten out of control. I felt like a victim. I was tired. My husband was nagging me: “Why did you agree to that? Why didn’t you just say no?” and, “Why are you doing that again? Why can’t anyone else do it?” I didn’t know why I didn’t say no. I had no answer for him.
My son had heard these arguments before, then one day he said something so simple, but it changed my life: “Mom, when someone asks you a question, any question, you don’t have to answer. A question is not a command for an answer. Your answer is voluntary. And if the question involves a yes or no answer, don’t commit right away. Say, ‘Let me think about it.’ Then take a day or two to think about it. If nothing else, this will buy you some time. Half the time the person won't come back to you and ask again. If they do ask you again, you’ve had some time to think about your answer. And it’s ok to say no. And it’s ok not to have a reason.” Period. My 20 year old son told me that. Why hadn’t I thought about that before?
I realized I desperately needed to start responding differently to requests for my time, not just once in a while, but habitually. I'd like to say it was easy to change my habits, but that would be a lie. Little by little I turned myself around. I got into reading about setting boundaries, set a few and stuck to them. I have two wise girlfriends who would hear me out when I needed to talk. It was cheaper than therapy and they gave me courage. After a time, new, good habits replaced old, bad habits. My family supported me, even though they were hearing “no” more than they’d ever bargained for! As for saying no, I will admit that I like to give a reason, I think it’s nicer that way, but it’s a simple, non-committal reason such as, I don’t have the time or I’m feeling too tired.
Ten years later, and how do I feel now? I feel free. Competent. Happy. Helpful. I like to help, I like to say yes, but I know I don’t always have to.
How about you, dear reader? Have you had to deal with this? How have you coped? Do you have victories you can share? Words we can learn from? I know there's many wonderful stories out there. Please don’t be shy, I’d love to hear from you. (If you are reading this in an email, please click here and scroll to the bottom to the comments section.)
Recently I spent a long girl’s only weekend with my 40ish stepdaughter. We talked and talked the days and nights away, and the subject that got the most attention was setting boundaries and saying no. She is struggling with this very issue and I was happy that I had some encouragement and insight to share.
Last month, as I was rushing around trying to plow through a long list of tasks, my husband and son walked in from a game of golf. My 31 year old son, who we see once every week or two, said, “Mom, why are you always so busy these days?” It took only a second for my husband to pipe up with his daily mantra: “You have taken on too much. You don’t know how to say no. You are going to get sick.” He was partly right because I did get sick. I found out the hard way that pneumonia is nothing to ignore and has an ugly way of sticking around if you don’t take care of it. But on the other two issues he was dead wrong. I won’t admit to having taken on too much. Normally, the simple things I’d signed on to do would have been done easily, quickly, and joyfully, but some last-minute out-of-town trips and a series of unexpected out-of-town guests threw my timing off. When I finally did have the time to get back to these commitments, time was running out and I had to bust in and give it my all. But my husband was most wrong about the not-knowing-how-to-say-no part. I do know how to say no, but I didn’t always. I learned this about 10 years ago, out of necessity, and learned it from the one person whom I didn’t expect would ever teach me a life lesson: my son, who at the time was in his early twenties and struggling with his own personal issues.
But, first, a little background: I'm pretty good with time management. I can allot a reasonable amount of time to a project and then move on without getting OCD over perfection. I have high energy, frequently multi-task and can re-focus quickly when necessary -- all skills I've worked on over the years. I have to credit my parents for nurturing these skills in my brother and me since childhood. It's simply the way they ran our family. Having a lot of interests and being good at most of them were the family standards. What made it work, I think, was that we were given freedom to do things our own way. Criticisms were rare; helpful suggestions were there if we needed them. I remember praise, but not a lot; being competent was just expected. I loved growing up this way as it gave me self-confidence. As a girl, I had always loved to sew. When I was in 6th grade, my parents bought me a sewing machine, signed me up for sewing classes and expected me to start making my own clothes. I did, and my entire junior high and high school wardrobe was proudly made by me. My parents weren't being stingy, they were being kind. I was small for my age and this was the era before the petite section. They knew I dreaded entering junior high with my childish wardrobe. Now even a toddler can dress like a Kardashian, but not so in 1964!
When I got out into the world I was surprised that not everyone approached tasks the way my family did. At my first job I saw someone say no to a task because she was afraid of failure. Being afraid to fail had never occurred to me; I'd been taught that failure was just part of learning to do something right in the long run. What was the big deal? I watched another co-worker continually miss deadlines because she was seeking an impossible perfection. I'd learned that there are times to pronounce something "perfect enough" and move on. I quickly fell into the role of the go-to person, taking on more and more responsibility. My boss loved me and I loved sitting in my own office, only 21 years old but certain I could do my job well.
So then, 30 years later, how did this fabulous can-do spirit with all this reliability and competence start to feel wrong? It took a while I know, decades I guess, but I started to feel a bit put-upon. Was I being taken for granted? Were friends and family dumping things on me that they didn’t want to do? Was I hearing, “Kristen, you do this, you can do it so well!” and, “Here, you can do this so quickly, it would take me ages!” a little too often? Once at a party, a man whom I admired was in charge of a Christmas bash to raise funds for an organization I admired. He put his arm around me and beamed down and said, "Kristen, I can only trust you with this, as you are just so creative and competent." The next thing I knew, I had agreed to made 200 individual desserts and deliver them on the same day I was having my own Christmas party. Things had clearly gotten out of control. I felt like a victim. I was tired. My husband was nagging me: “Why did you agree to that? Why didn’t you just say no?” and, “Why are you doing that again? Why can’t anyone else do it?” I didn’t know why I didn’t say no. I had no answer for him.
My son had heard these arguments before, then one day he said something so simple, but it changed my life: “Mom, when someone asks you a question, any question, you don’t have to answer. A question is not a command for an answer. Your answer is voluntary. And if the question involves a yes or no answer, don’t commit right away. Say, ‘Let me think about it.’ Then take a day or two to think about it. If nothing else, this will buy you some time. Half the time the person won't come back to you and ask again. If they do ask you again, you’ve had some time to think about your answer. And it’s ok to say no. And it’s ok not to have a reason.” Period. My 20 year old son told me that. Why hadn’t I thought about that before?
I realized I desperately needed to start responding differently to requests for my time, not just once in a while, but habitually. I'd like to say it was easy to change my habits, but that would be a lie. Little by little I turned myself around. I got into reading about setting boundaries, set a few and stuck to them. I have two wise girlfriends who would hear me out when I needed to talk. It was cheaper than therapy and they gave me courage. After a time, new, good habits replaced old, bad habits. My family supported me, even though they were hearing “no” more than they’d ever bargained for! As for saying no, I will admit that I like to give a reason, I think it’s nicer that way, but it’s a simple, non-committal reason such as, I don’t have the time or I’m feeling too tired.
Ten years later, and how do I feel now? I feel free. Competent. Happy. Helpful. I like to help, I like to say yes, but I know I don’t always have to.
How about you, dear reader? Have you had to deal with this? How have you coped? Do you have victories you can share? Words we can learn from? I know there's many wonderful stories out there. Please don’t be shy, I’d love to hear from you. (If you are reading this in an email, please click here and scroll to the bottom to the comments section.)
