“No.”
“Say it again,” he urged. “This time with feeling.”
I laughed. “No!”
“Better. Keep practicing, you’ll improve and soon it even may feel natural.”
I doubt it.
But I’m trying.
Why can’t I say “no?”
Oh, who knows?
I want to be agreeable, helpful, and considered valuable.
Sometimes I’m so busy guessing at someone else’s feelings, that I can’t decline to do something.
That’s been true for too long.
But, I was so busy last year, I needed help.
After the umpteenth (well-meaning) phone call asking me to do something, I had to take steps to stop it.
So, I wrote a post-it note and stuck it on my computer.
I don’t think that admonision went a week before I broke it.
How about if Liz says, “no?”
I was whining, er, describing my predicament to a wise friend on the telephone. (I think all my friends named Liz are wise).
She took me firmly in hand. “Michelle, you have a lot of things to do, important things to do. You cannot keep saying yes. You need to say no.”
“I know, I know, but . . . “
“No buts,” she interupted in her wonderful school marm voice. “I tell you. You have to say ‘no.'”
I nodded–even though she couldn’t see my response–and wrote another post-it note.
I put it next to the first one.
That helped.
A little.
And the friends who know Liz agreed. I needed to listen to Liz.
And yet . . .
Feeling trapped
Again, this only may be me, but I feel my heart sinking as I mentally rearrange what I’d planned to do with that particular time.
Most of the time I manage a weak smile before going home to berate myself in private.
I’m hyper-aware of these feelings and often when I ask someone to do something for me, I hedge it.
I’ll say something like, “Would you like to _________________? No is a fine answer.”
No one makes that offer to me.
Perhaps it’s because they know my boundaries are weak?
Now, at least, I take a breath and say, “I’ll need to check my calendar.”
I then go home and shore up my defenses for my true answer–even if it’s “no.”
A philosophical explanation for “stop.”
Someone, somewhere, had brilliant insight one day and I managed to scribble it on a post-it note.
Whoever you are, I thank you.
“‘No’ is a complete sentence. You can’t say ‘yes’ if you don’t feel you can say ‘no.'”
It’s that word feel that caught my eye.
Too often I don’t feel like I can say decline.
It doesn’t usually have anything to do with whether I want to say “no” or not.
It’s an emotional reaction to the person asking.
But if that person loves me, they want the best for me, right?
The people who love me–and whom I love back–are the ones who will accept me, no matter what I say.
Right?
And often–my husband looks at me–my family are the ones who suffer when I don’t say “no” often enough.
Recovering, but still not quite there, yet.
I am doing better.
My life also has slowed down.
I’ve found places to explain how to say “no.”
In addition, I’ve added Martin Luther to my admonition bar. 🙂
He was good at saying “no.”
How about you?
Tweetables
Why is saying “no” such a conundrum to some of us? Click to Tweet
The value of just saying no. Click to Tweet
Sarah Angleton says
“No” can feel awfully hard, but you know, I rarely regret it when I manage to say it.
Michelle Ule says
I know, I know! You’re so right! LOL
la says
Oh man. I identify!
kristyhorine says
Mercy. I needed this. I was listening to a training on Sacred Rest last week and I have two more phrases for your sticky notes:
“I’m sorry, God has not released me to say yes to that.”
“I’d love to, but my schedule doesn’t allow for that right now.”
In your post, though, you nailed something: feelings. What am I afraid I’m going to miss out on? What am I afraid I’m going to lose? Man’s praise? Yikes. If I keep saying yes, does that mean I am despising what might appear to be small beginnings (Zechariah 4:10); does it mean I have a discontent heart in what the Lord has already put on my plate?
Thank you for your post. Thank you for sharing your Liz with us 🙂