Why I Can’t Stop Saying Yes

I once agreed to help someone move on the same weekend that I was already committed to attending a wedding, a work deadline, and what I like to call “recovery time” (which is really just me lying on my couch questioning my life choices). Why? Because when they asked if I was free Saturday morning, my brain short-circuited and I heard myself saying, “Sure, I’d love to help!”

Love to help. As if hauling boxes down three flights of stairs was my secret passion.

This is how I learned that knowing about boundaries and actually implementing them are two very very different things.

The “Good” Person

Somewhere along the way, many of us absorb the idea that being a good person means being available to everyone, all the time. That saying no is selfish. That having limits makes you difficult or high-maintenance. That if you really cared about people, you’d always find a way to say yes.

This myth is particularly potent in women, but it affects anyone who was raised to prioritize other people’s comfort over their own well-being. We learn to scan rooms for what other people need and automatically volunteer to provide it, often before we’ve even checked in with ourselves about what we have to give.

The result? We end up overcommitted, resentful, and exhausted, wondering why everyone else seems to have their life together while we’re constantly drowning in obligations we never really wanted to take on.

What Boundaries Actually Are

Here’s what I wish someone had told me earlier: boundaries aren’t walls you build to keep people out. They are guidelines that you establish to keep yourself in integrity with your own values, energy, and capacity.

A boundary isn’t “I don’t want to help you.” It’s “I can help you in this specific way, at this specific time, but not beyond that.” It’s not rejection; it’s clarity about what you can genuinely offer without depleting yourself.

The uncomfortable truth is that boundaries often feel mean because we’ve been conditioned to believe that our discomfort matters less than other people’s convenience. We’d rather say yes and secretly resent it than say no and feel temporarily guilty.

But here’s the thing about resentment: it’s what happens when we consistently choose other people’s comfort over our own. And resentment poisons relationships far more effectively than honest limitations ever could.

The Guilt Complex

Let’s talk about guilt for a minute, because it’s the primary weapon our conditioning uses against our boundaries. The moment we consider saying no to something, guilt swoops in with a highlight reel of why we’re terrible people for even considering it.

“But they really need your help!” “It’s not that much to ask!” “What if no one else steps up?” “They’ll think you don’t care about them!”

Guilt disguises itself as evidence of our goodness—see how much we care about other people’s feelings? But really, it’s often just fear wearing a moral costume. Fear or disappointment, conflict, or being seen as anything other than endlessly accommodating.

The antidote to guilt isn’t suppressing it or pushing through it. It’s recognizing that feeling guilty about having boundaries doesn’t mean the boundaries are wrong. It usually means you’re bumping up against old programming that equated your worth with your usefulness to others.

The Energy Audit

One practice that helped me was starting to pay attention to my energy the way I pay attention to my bank account. Every commitment is a withdrawal. Every “yes” has an energy cost, not just in time but in emotional and mental bandwidth.

Before agreeing to anything now, I try to run a quick internal scan: How am I feeling right now? What else do I have on my plate? What would saying yes to this require me to say no to? Do I have the energy to show up for this in a way that feels good for everyone involved?

This isn’t about being calculating or selfish. It’s about being realistic about what I can offer while staying connected to my own well-being. Because when I overcommit, nobody gets the best version of me—they get the frazzled and overwhelmed version who’s secretly keeping score of all the things I’ve said yes to that I didn’t really want to do.

The Practice of Gentle Honesty

Learning to set boundaries is like learning any new skill—it feels awkward at first, and you’re going to mess it up sometimes. The goal isn’t to become someone who never helps anyone or never goes out of their way for the people they care about. It’s to become someone who can offer generosity rather than an obligatory service.

Sometimes this means saying. “I wish I could help with that, but I’ve not available.” Sometimes it’s, “I can do X, but not Y.” Sometimes it’s, “Let me think about it and get back to you,” which buys you time to check in with yourself before responding from pure reflex.

The key is learning to deliver these boundaries with kindness but without over-explaining or apologizing excessively. “No, but thank you for thinking of me” is a complete sentence. You don’t need to provide a detailed justification for why you can’t take on someone else’s request.

The Effects

What I didn’t expect when I started setting boundaries was how it would affect my relationships—mostly for the better. The people who cared about me appreciated knowing where I stood rather than wondering whether my yes was real or just politeness. And the people who reacted poorly to my boundaries? Well, that told me something important about what they valued in the relationship.

Setting boundaries also freed up energy and time for the commitments I actually wanted to make. Instead of being spread thin across a dozen half-hearted obligations, I could show up fully for the things that mattered to me. I became a better friend, not in spite of my boundaries, but because of them.

The Seasons

One thing I’m still learning is that boundaries aren’t static. My capacity changes based on what else is happening in my life, my stress levels, my health, the season I’m in personally and professionally. What I can handle during a calm period might be completely unrealistic during a busy or challenging time.

This means boundaries need to be revisited and adjusted regularly. It means being honest about when something that used to work for you no longer does. It means giving yourself permission to change your mind about what you’re available for as your circumstances change.

The goal isn’t to find the perfect boundary formula and stick to it forever. It’s about developing the ongoing practice of checking in with yourself and making choices that align with your current reality rather than some idealized version of who you think you should be.

The Deeper Work

Boundary work is spiritual work. It’s about honoring the truth of who you are and what you need, rather than constantly shape-shifting to accommodate everyone else’s expectations. It’s about rusting that you matter, that your well-being is not less important than everyone else’s convenience.

This is harder than it sounds in a culture that often treats self-care as selfish and boundaries as mean. But the alternative—saying yes to everything and slowly losing yourself in the process—serves no one.

When we take responsibility for our own limits and communicate them clearly, we give other people the gift of knowing where they stand with us. We model what it looks like to value both our own well-being and our relationships enough to be honest about what we can and can’t offer.

Start Small

If you’re someone who struggles with boundaries (honestly, who doesn’t), start small. Pick one area where you constantly overcommit or say yes when you mean no. Practice pausing before responding to requests. Notice what comes up when you consider setting a limit.

Remember that boundaries are not about becoming less caring or less generous. They’re about become more intentional with your care and generosity, so that when you do say yes, it comes from a place of genuine choice rather than obligation or guilt.

The world doesn’t need more martyrs. It needs more people who are clear about what they can offer and willing to offer it wholeheartedly. Sometimes the most loving thing you can do is say no to one thing so you can say a real yes to something else.

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Kat McAdaragh

Kat McAdaragh is a writer, content creator, and essayist exploring themes of mindfulness, personal development, healing, and the untold stories of women. With a background in Creative Writing and deep curiosity for culture and identity, she writes to reclaim voice, spark reflection, and inspire meaningful connections.

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Kat Mcadaragh

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Katrina McAdaragh

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