Dealing with People Pleasing
You’re at the office and your colleague asks if you can cover their shift this weekend. Again. You’ve already worked the last three weekends. Your partner had made dinner plans. You’re exhausted. But somehow, the word that comes out of your mouth is “sure, no problem.” And as you watch them walk away relieved, you feel that familiar sinking feeling. Why can’t you just say no?
Later that night you lie awake, running through all the things you should have said. Next time will be different, you tell yourself. But you’ve told yourself that before. The truth is, the thought of someone being disappointed in you, or worse, angry — it makes your chest tight. So you keep saying yes. To the extra project. To the friend who always needs a favor but never returns one. To the family member whose drama somehow always becomes your responsibility.
You’re not weak. You’re not a pushover. You probably learned a long time ago that keeping others happy was how you stayed safe, or loved, or both. Maybe as a kid, you figured out that being agreeable meant less conflict. Maybe you were the one who smoothed things over, who absorbed everyone’s emotions because someone had to. It worked then. But now you’re forty-three years old, and you realize you don’t actually know what you want because you’ve spent so long figuring out what everyone else wants.
This pattern isn’t new. For as long as humans have lived in groups, some have struggled with the pull between their own needs and others’ approval. The Roman slaves who survived by anticipating their masters’ moods. The courtiers who navigated deadly politics through careful accommodation. The daughters who were taught that their worth lay in their usefulness to others. The dynamic may look different now — we’re not navigating imperial courts — but the internal experience is ancient.
Some of history’s sharpest minds grappled with this very tension: how do we live with others without losing ourselves? They didn’t call it “people pleasing” — they talked about freedom, authenticity, and the courage to be disliked. Their words might help.
You’re not the first to carry this
Voices Across Time
Four voices from different centuries and traditions all confronted the question of how much of ourselves we owe to others. A former slave who became one of the greatest teachers of freedom. An emperor who could have anyone’s approval but sought only his own integrity. A prince who walked away from everything to find truth. A sage who taught that the softest things overcome the hardest. Together, they offer something surprising: permission.
“If you want to improve, be content to be thought foolish and stupid.”
Epictetus — Greek Stoic philosopher, 50–135 CE
Enchiridion
Epictetus was born a slave. He literally had no choice but to please others — his survival depended on it. And yet, after gaining his freedom, he became one of history’s most powerful teachers of internal liberation. He understood people pleasing from the inside out. His point wasn’t that you should become rude or uncaring. It was that if you need everyone’s approval to feel okay, you’ve handed your freedom to people who may not even be paying attention.
Being willing to be thought “foolish” isn’t about courting criticism. It’s about recognizing that your worth isn’t determined by consensus. Some people will misunderstand you. Some will be disappointed. And you can survive that. You already have, actually, every time you disappointed yourself by saying yes when you meant no.
“It never ceases to amaze me: we all love ourselves more than other people, but care more about their opinion than our own.”
Marcus Aurelius — Meditations
Marcus Aurelius was the most powerful man in the known world. He could have had any approval he wanted — people would praise him just to survive. And yet his private journals reveal a man obsessed with one question: am I living according to my own values, or am I just performing for an audience? He found the obsession with others’ opinions almost comically backwards. We love ourselves most, he noticed, yet we trust others’ judgments about us more than our own.
This isn’t arrogance. It’s clarity. The people whose opinions you’re chasing — do they know what you’ve been through? Do they understand your values, your limitations, your private struggles? Usually not. So why would their assessment of your life be more accurate than yours?
“You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.”
Buddha — Attributed teachings
The Buddha was a prince who had everything — wealth, power, a family who adored him. He walked away from all of it. Not because he didn’t love them, but because he realized he had been living someone else’s script. His father’s expectations. Society’s plans for him. He couldn’t find himself in all that accommodation.
His teaching about self-love isn’t selfishness — it’s foundation. You cannot genuinely care for others from an empty well. When you constantly abandon yourself to please others, you’re actually offering them something depleted. The kindness becomes performance. The help comes with resentment. Only by treating yourself as worthy of care can you offer care that’s real.
Lao Tzu lived in a culture obsessed with hierarchy, status, and social harmony. The pressure to conform was immense. And yet he taught that the greatest strength comes from being like water — soft, yielding, but impossible to destroy. His warning about caring too much what others think is blunt because he knew how easily we become prisoners without bars.
He wasn’t suggesting you become a hermit or stop caring about relationships. But he recognized something crucial: when you need approval, you can be controlled by anyone willing to withhold it. Your boss. Your parent. Your partner. The person who figured out your pattern. Freedom isn’t never caring — it’s not requiring their approval to know your own worth.
“Care about what other people think and you will always be their prisoner.”
Lao Tzu — Chinese philosopher, 6th century BCE
Tao Te Ching
What connects them
What They All Understood
What’s striking is that these four came from completely different contexts — a slave, an emperor, a prince, a sage — yet they all arrived at the same insight. The need for others’ approval, when it becomes compulsive, is a form of bondage. Not because approval doesn’t feel good. It does. But because chasing it makes you forget that you’re allowed to exist without earning your place through constant accommodation.
None of them taught coldness or isolation. They all valued community, relationship, care for others. But they understood something crucial: genuine connection requires two whole people. When you’re constantly shapeshifting to match others’ expectations, there’s no “you” present to actually connect with. Paradoxically, people pleasing often prevents the very closeness it’s trying to create.
The permission they offer isn’t to become selfish. It’s to become real. To discover that some people will love you more when you stop performing. And the ones who only loved the performance? That was never real love anyway.
Before you go
A Moment for You
Next time you feel that pressure to say yes when you mean no, remember: a former slave, an emperor, a prince, and a sage all agreed that your worth doesn’t depend on others’ approval. The discomfort of disappointing someone is temporary. The discomfort of disappearing yourself is chronic.
If you want to explore these ideas more deeply — to work through the patterns that keep you saying yes when you want to say no — InnerCalm+ offers guided conversations with these same wisdom traditions. Sometimes having a companion for the journey makes the first “no” a little easier.
This content is for informational purposes only and is not a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. If you’re struggling with mental health issues, please consult a qualified healthcare provider.
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