Episode 4- The Cost Of Pleasing Other.

Every “yes” that’s really a “no” leaves a debt.
 We pay in exhaustion, resentment, and disconnection from ourselves.
 This week on #SoulfullyAlignedPodcast, we’re talking about the hidden cost of people-pleasing — and how to stop paying the price.

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Transcript

Maxine Bingham: 0:00

Hey, love. Hope you're doing well today. Come on in. I want you to come all the way in. I know that you had a long day at work and you are very tired, but I want you to still sit and listen. Go ahead, take your shoes off. That's if you choose to do so. Get yourself a cup of coffee, tea. Or a glass of wine. Sit on your sofa. Go ahead and get that blanket that you love so much. You love to wrap around you while you are watching television. Put your feet up, curl them under you because I am going to be right here with you. See tonight. I have no plans, no agenda. Really no perfect outline, no checklist to run through, so you feel like you did enough for the day. There is just us two souls who know the cost of always saying yes, two women who have spent too long, stitching ourselves smaller so other people could spread out wide and comfortable. I want to be very clear with you. I am not here because I have this all figured out. I am here because I have not because my hands still tremble when I say no. My stomach still get knots when I feel as though I have disappointed someone I love. So take a breath with me. I'm not talking about that quiet, tight breath. You take when you're bracing for someone's demand or someone's request, but the deep real breath that says I am allowed to belong to myself. I want you to breathe in through your nose, hold it, and out through your mouth. My name is Maxine and I'm not speaking at you. I am sitting right here with you. Because I know exactly what it's like to make yourself smaller so everyone else around you can stretch out and take up space. I know what it's like to say yes when my body is screaming no to give time that I really don't have to give sleep that my body has been begging for, to trade my voice for someone else's peace. To negotiate my worth for a crumb of praise that never fulfills me. I know because I am unlearn unlearning this too. I still catch myself nodding when I want to say absolutely not. I still catch myself staying up at night replaying those words like, and can go ahead and edit the past. So this space. It's just for us. It's for the givers, the fixers, the good girls who are tired of being good at your own expense. Tonight, we'll name what people pleasing really cost us our time, our rest, our sleep, our voice and our worth. And then piece by piece, we're gonna practice what it means to take that power back. So I want you to stay right here with me. Pour your tea, let your shoulders drop. This is the breath that you really don't need to earn. I wanna take you back for a quick minute. Close your eyes if you'd like, and I'd like you to picture your five. Six, your old self. In that first moment, you learned that peace in the room mattered more than peace inside your tiny little chest. Maybe it was your parents having an argument. Maybe it was a teacher who scolded you. Maybe it was a friend that turned cold when you spoke too boldly. Maybe you can't even name the moment I. Because it didn't happen once. It kept happening over and over again, small enough to slip through the cracks, but deep enough to stick to your ribs. I remember once I was sitting watching television and I was watching the grownups speak, and they were speaking very sharp words and thinking. I can just be a good girl. Maybe they'll just stop. I remember answering. It's okay when it wasn't. I don't mind when I did. No worries. When my whole spirit was tangled in worry. Does that sound familiar to you? You see, this is how it starts, not with a huge sacrifice that you make. But with the tiniest betrayals of your own truth. We learn early on that our ease makes other people comfortable. We learn that the nod, the polite laugh, the quiet, yeah, sure, I can smooth over discomfort, like glue over a crack. We learn that our boundaries make the room tense, so we drop them. We learn that our needs. Are a little too much. So we swallow them and it works. It works for a while. People praise you. They say things like, oh my gosh, she's so sweet, so easy, so strong, and maybe that lights something in your chest until one day you begin to realize that warmth is your own fire burning you up from the inside. That's the cost that no one talks about when they praise you for being the strong one, the dependable one, the easy one. It's not free. It is you piece by piece, not by nod and swallowed. No after swallowed, no. You know that quiet weight that you carry in your shoulders. Tuck behind your smile, the one that says you've been holding too much for way too long. That ache that says you're carrying more than anyone sees the tight jaw, the shallow breath, the nights that you lie awake, replaying conversations, wondering if you were too much, too direct or too distant. People pleasing was never just about you being nice. It was your shield. I. The soft reflex that said, if they're happy, then maybe I can be happy too. And you learned it for a reason. You held onto it for protection. You are not broken for doing any of that. You are not failing because it's still showing up. Sometimes it's not your fault, but now that you can see it so clear, you get to say the cost out loud. And put it down little by little. Somewhere along the line we learned that our softness keeps the room safe. Our yes keeps the world smooth. Our quiet nod keeps everyone warm. No one ever tells you. The world will keep taken if you keep offering. No one ever tells you that your exhaustion is the glue that holds everyone else's piece together, and no one ever asks who is holding you. So I am asking who holds you? If you don't know, I want you to stay with me because tonight I promise I have you time. I. The hours. We just can't re rewind. Time is the first hidden cost. How many years, months, mornings, weekends have you handed over like it was spare change? How many times have you rearranged your own life so people's chaos could stay neat and tidy? How many dreams did you push to the back burner while you made sure that they ate first? I know this too well because I used to wear my business like it was a badge of honor. I used to think that if I filled every hour, helping, fixing, soothing, that I finally need enough to deserve rest. But all I felt. Was really empty and here is the truth that I wish someone had told me much sooner. Time is a currency that you will never, ever get back. There is no refund for all the moments you gave to people who didn't value them or even you, but we can name it now, we can, not to shame ourselves, but so that we can choose differently. I still. Check my calendar and I see other people's names where mine should actually be. I still catch myself about to say yes to things that cost me precious hours. So now I wanna ask you, does this serve you or is it only serving them? You are worth protecting your hours like gold because they are. You see, we can't rew rewrite yesterday, but today we have a blank slate. Now let's talk about rest. Rest and sleep are like sisters. They are not twins. Rest is the permission to be unproductive and still feel worthy. It's the exhale that says, I don't owe anyone my constant available. For decades, I didn't know how to rest. Even when I sat still, my mind kept spinning the to-do list, the people who may need me. The guilt that whispered, I hadn't done enough. And you know what? I'm still wrestling with it all that reflex to fill every quiet pocket with more serving, more given, more fixing people pleasing. It steals your right to rest because it convinces you that you are only as good as you are useful, but you are not here to be useful. You are here to be whole. Some nights I put my phone away early, not because I don't care, but because I do, because my spirit deserves to be off duty sometimes, and yes. I still feel the guilt crawling up my back when I choose myself over someone else's con. Convenience. But guilt is not my guide anymore. Peace is, and I can ho only hope that it is all yours. And then there is sleep. The cost that shows up when the world goes quiet. Sleep is a time that your body heals. Your mind retreats, your soul floats, but people pleasing that never sleeps. How many nights have you stared at the ceiling rehearsing conversations you wish you have had had? How many 3:00 AM wake-ups have you had with your heart racing worried that you disappointed someone who is never really worried about you? I also do it. Sometimes I've read and I've reread texts that I've sent at midnight, and I've triple check my tone. I've rewritten emails in my head. While the rest of the world is dreaming, people pleasing, it borrows under your eyelids. It steals your dreams, your deep rest, your next energy. So right now we name it. Sleep is your sacred right. You do not need to earn it. You do not need to check one more box to deserve it. So when you lay your head down, I want you to put your hand on your heart and say, the world can wait. I can rest. I can sleep. I am enough right here. I. Yeah, because just like you, I am also learning. Now your voice, people pleasing, teaches us to speak softly carefully to smooth every edge. I know this too well. My tongue has bent itself into a thousand shapes just to keep the peace. How many times have you laughed at jokes that were meant to hurt you? How many times have you said it's fine when your chest was burning with, it's not fine at all. Your voice is the most powerful tool that you have, and people pleasing it, buries it under your politeness. I'm learning to dig up mine again. I shake when I say what I really mean, but you know what? I'd rather tremble. In my truth, then stand tall and a lie. So tonight, whisper it first. What truth are you bearing so that they can stay comfortable? Go ahead and write it down. Say it to your reflection in the mirror. I want you to practice it even if you're trembling, even if you're anxious. Do it anyway. Because I am trembling too, so I wanna pause right here in the middle because this journey doesn't go neatly from point A to point B, unlearning how to please others. It's not a straight line. It's an endless stream. It flows forward, it loops back. It carries old debris, it clears space for the new. Okay. I still float in this stream every single day. Some days I'm padd in upstream. I'm trying to clinging to old habits because they make me feel safer. Other days, I just let the current carry me into softness, honesty, and set in healthy boundaries. You're not failing because you still can't catch yourself. People pleasing you are just a human being. And you are learning. So I want you to stand in the stream with me just for a moment, and I want you to breathe. One honest breath, one small truth, one gentle promise to keep choosing yourself over and over again. The deepest cut is your worth. Somewhere we learned that our value. Lives in our usefulness, in our given, in our sacrificing. I learned to measure my worth by the exhaustion in my body at the end of each day. If I wasn't tired, I felt that I hadn't given enough. Does that sound familiar to you? You see the lie. It can be very loud. And it says, if you stop giving, they'll stop loving. Here is what's true. The people who only love you for your given, they never truly loved you. Your worth is not a transaction. It was given to you the moment you arrived on this earth, tiny, loud, mean in everything and given nothing. You were worthy then. And yes. You are worthy. Now, I forget this sometimes, so I say it to myself on a daily basis. My worth is not a negotiation. My worth is not for sale. And before you go to bed tonight, I want you to look yourself in the mirror and repeat those words. So what protects all of this? What protects our people Pleasing. That's your boundaries. You see, boundaries are the fences around your time, your sleep, your rest, your voice, and your worth. I used to think that boundaries meant I was being, being, so I didn't wanna set them, but now I see that they're the highest form of kindness to myself and to those around me. Because a boundary says, I love you, but I love me so much more. So I practice small. At first, I will say, no, I can't do that today. No, I'm not available at the moment. No, I don't need to explain myself. And yes, I still feel the guilt when I do. I. You know what you will too. But we breathe through it because the guilt that is just old programming. And you and I, we are beginning to write a new code. So here we are, the place we return to over and over, and that is home The truth. Is that you have been here all along, beneath all the people. Pleasing is the real you. The one who knows how to say yes when she means it. Know when she must rest. Rest, when she is tired. Sleep when she is done. And I too am coming home each day, each boundary. Each say shaky truth. We are unlearning this together. We're not perfect. What we are is becoming and my sisters, that should be enough. And then there is the weave. You're not gonna fix all of this overnight and neither am I. Because this is a sacred stitch work of our lifetime. People pre pleasing, it unravels us, but we are not the unraveling, we are the weavers because every truth that you speak, every know you hold steady every night that you choose sleep. That is another stitch back to yourself. Some threads are tangled. And some knots take years to loosen, and that is perfectly okay because you are not broken, you are unfinished. We're not here in this world to be perfect, but we are here to be whole threads, showing stitches visible proof that we dared to do this work at all. So sisters, we have come to the end of our time together and I really would like to thank you for the, from the bottom of my heart for breathing this with me. I wanna thank you for standing in the stream, stitching the weave, and saying that I want more for myself. So if you want a circle to keep practicing this with, come on over to Facebook. Join me in Soulfully Aligned, which is my private Facebook group for women like us who are tired of shrinking. You see the link? Yeah. The link that you need to join us. That is in the notes. And now I want to leave you with a final blessing. And this poem is called The Sacred Return. She counted the costs in stolen hours in restless nights and words unsaid. She gathered time and sleep and silence. She gathered the worth and stitched the thread. She traced the stream. She wove the edges. She dared to rest. She dared to stand. She claimed her voice, her sacred boundaries. She cupped her worth in open hands. She is the weaver. She is the river. She is the keeper of her own. She is the story still becoming. She is the woman coming home. So until next time, my beautiful sisters go ahead, keep breathing, keep weaving, and keep coming home.