Making Space
Showing up for yourself isn’t possible if you don’t make space for yourself—space to notice and respond; space to flourish and thrive; space that you can fill with the habits, activities, and people that truly make you feel good. But space is not always easy to come by. There’s a growing expectation that we will always be on, reachable, in communication with dozens of our closest friends (virtually or IRL). No wonder we’re all exhausted.
Making space begins with making choices. If you don’t decide how you want to live your life, other people will decide for you. Making space means you have to say no sometimes—no to your beloved friends, to your coworkers, to the things you “want” (but don’t really want), to the things you genuinely want (but not right this second), to your notifications and goddamn phone. You can’t be your happiest, most authentic self if you regularly abdicate this responsibility. I know this can be difficult, but I’ve found that it’s considerably easier when you are able to do it intentionally and wholeheartedly, confident in who you are and secure in the knowledge that your decision is the best one you could make in this moment. Or, to put it another way, if you know what, exactly, you’re saying yes to instead.
Your TME
If you’re reading this book, there’s a good chance that you’re someone who is always doing a lot—trying to excel at work, at home, and with friends; attempting to read/watch/ listen to whatever new thing smart people say you should check out; and basically earn A’s in all aspects of life. But everything we do costs us time, money, or energy (also known as TME). Your TME is your most valuable resource, and if you want to better show up for yourself, it’s helpful to think about how you’re spending it—and how you’d like to be spending it.
The exercises from the previous chapter should have given you a better sense of what your values, tastes, and preferences are; now it’s time to look at where your TME is going so you can nail down your priorities. Because, unfortunately, your TME is in limited supply. Most of us don’t want to admit this, but the reality is that no one—not even the wealthiest, most extroverted, most on-top-of-their-shit individual—is able to do all the things they dream about doing. Like, you cannot finish a book a week, have a hobby, cook delicious homemade meals, exercise, watch every Instagram story, listen to every popular podcast, read every interesting article that is published every day, excel at work or school (or both), get enough sleep, and maintain a huge network of close friends. That said, you’ll be able to do a lot (if not all!) of the things that truly nourish you once you start giving less attention to the activities and people you don’t actually care about. As Laura Vanderkam writes in 168 Hours: You Have More Time Than You Think, “When you focus on what you do best, on what brings you the most satisfaction, there is plenty of space for everything.”
The Audit
To get a clear sense of where your TME is going, first do a time and energy audit. (For the moment, let’s leave money out of this—tracking money will make this exercise too overwhelming!) There are a couple different ways you can approach your audit.
| Monday | Tuesday | Wednesday | |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6:00 AM | Woke up, scrolled on phone | ||
| 6:30 AM | On phone; replied to text from overnight | ||
| 7:00 AM | Shower | ||
| 7:30 AM | Tried on four different outfits | ||
| 8:00 AM | On phone (texts, emails, IG, FB) | ||
| 8:30 AM | Breakfast, phone |
Your personal time sheet
Start with a blank weekly calendar that is broken down by the day, and then by the half hour or quarter hour. (Spreadsheets work well for this, but you can also use graph paper, a journal, or a calendar app.) For the next week or so, use it to record how you spend your time. Try to update it every sixty minutes, if possible, but if it’s not, just do it as often as you can, doing your best to remember all of the “small” activities that can actually fill a lot of time. While you’re at it, rate your energy during each time slot on a scale of 1 to 5, with 1 being the lowest and 5 being the highest. You can rate your physical energy (PE), your emotional energy (EE), and/or your mental energy (ME), or you can just rate your overall energy. Do whatever feels right for you; all that matters is that you understand the entries when you’re done. If you can do this for a full week, great! If not, that’s also fine.
I’m not going to lie: Doing a personal time sheet can be hard. It’s not fun to write down all the ways you “waste” time or to admit that your energy is low whenever you hang out with certain people. Remember to be gentle with yourself. The goal is simply to get a better understanding of how you’re spending your time and energy, so aim to observe without judgment, and try not to rush to any conclusions or start making changes to your routine as you go.
Once you’ve finished your audit, spend some time going through your data. Where is the bulk of your time and energy going? What patterns do you notice? How much time are you spending on self-care? How much time are you spending on or with other people versus yourself? How much time are you spending on bullshit (by your own definition)? What do you feel good about? What, if anything, do you feel sad or anxious about or wish were different?
Your ideal schedule
As an alternative to your personal time sheet—or immediately following it—here’s a similar but slightly different approach: Fill out a blank weekly calendar (broken down by the day and then by the quarter hour) with your ideal schedule. I don’t mean “ideal” in the sense of having unlimited wealth and no responsibilities; I mean ideal for you right now. What do you want to be doing?
This can also be a difficult exercise! We’re not meant to play God, you’ll think as you realize just how many fifteen-minute increments there are in a single day. If this isn’t for you, consider trying this idea from Emotional Agility by Susan David that I really love: “Answer a single question, in writing, each night before bed: ‘As I look back on today, what did I do that was actually worth my time?’”
If you’re feeling guilty or embarrassed about how you’ve been spending your time, it might be helpful to consider the difference between excuses and reasons. In her book Unf*ck Your Habitat, Rachel Hoffman defines the two: “Excuses are things that people use to justify not doing something because they don’t want to do it. Reasons are how people explain not doing something because they aren’t able to do it. See the difference? Saying you don’t want to wash the dishes because they’re just going to get dirty again later is an excuse. Saying that you can’t stand up for more than a few consecutive minutes to wash dishes because you’re having a pain flare-up is a reason.”
Once you’ve finished your time and energy audit, you can put everything we’ve covered so far together: Who are you? What do you value? What do you need and want? What does your life really look like? What do you realistically have time and energy for? How are you actually spending your days? And going forward, what will you prioritize?
Do Less
During and after your audit, there’s a good chance you’ll discover that you’re spending time and energy on activities or relationships that aren’t making you feel good, and that you can easily dump. But you might also feel like you still don’t have enough time to do everything you want to do. And I get that! I love doing, and the idea of cutting anything out is extremely hard for me. “What do you mean, ‘You don’t have to make custom koozies for everyone attending the party this weekend’?” I’ll say dismissively, cranky because I’ve been DIYing decorations for three days straight and have forgotten to eat. When I have really strong feelings about something, it’s easy for me to forget that just because I can do something doesn’t mean I should. I’ve finally begun to see the power and practicality in just doing a little bit less more often.
It started when I was constantly stressed about work. So much of that stress was rooted in my attempts to always do more. I’d gotten it in my head that the only way to do something was perfectly, and I applied that to everything. And I was just tired. I felt like my brain was on fire all the time. So I stopped doing so much (which is exactly as easy and as difficult as it sounds). And it felt great?!
Doing less manifests in a few core ways in my life. From a time management perspective, it means “You literally do not have time to do all of these things.” Like, of course you can’t do everything! No one can! But for some reason, we all assume everyone else is doing everything—maintaining strong friendships, going on romantic dates with their partner, working out every day, not crying in the office bathroom, wearing the right bra size—which is why, I suspect, we so often feel like we’re fucking up and failing at life. But it’s a huge relief to be honest with yourself and others about what you can do. And by “do,” I don’t mean “do if everything goes perfectly and I am a slightly better version of myself.” I mean “do most days, being the person I am with the life I have.” There are 168 hours in a week, but we aren’t robots! We can only realistically do so much in that time. While I genuinely believe that evaluating how you’re currently spending your time and energy will make it possible to do more of the things that matter most to you, I don’t think any of us will ever be able to do everything we’d like to do. I certainly can’t!
Doing less means not always trying to do The Absolute Most. It’s recognizing that sometimes, you don’t have to go to three stores to get your friend the perfect “OMG, so them!!!” birthday card in existence—because any birthday card you choose will do. It’s planning to make guacamole for your next potluck, and then taking a look at your schedule for the next few days and remembering that—if I may quote Ina Garten here—store-bought is fine.
Doing less means no longer saying yes to every request because you know that’s what someone else wants to hear you say—or because that is what you want to hear yourself say. It’s telling the truth about what you’re capable of doing, and being OK with that.
Doing less means being willing to do a less-than-perfect job at something that kind of doesn’t matter. We all know the old adage that perfect is the enemy of good. But how many of us believe that this advice only applies to other people, and that we personally have to do everything perfectly? (Guilty!!!) But it’s actually fine to not be the best at something, to not give 100 percent to everything. It’s especially OK if the task at hand doesn’t matter to you (or to anyone but you). As a high-achiever who always wants to do more and make things a little better, it’s been hard to get to a point where I can admit this. But the truth is, since I’ve started letting good enough be good enough, the world hasn’t ended. I doubt anyone has even noticed. And I truly believe that will be the case for you, too.
Doing less means just letting some shit go. (Are you having a heart attack reading this yet? I’m so sorry.) If you’re the type of person who loves to solve problems and is driven by an urge to fix, it can be incredibly difficult to leave things messy or imperfect or unfinished or uncertain or un-googled. (Again, I’m dragging myself here.) But sometimes you can’t, or don’t need to, or the amount of work required to fix the problem is more than you actually have.
It can be hard to admit that you don’t have unlimited TME, especially if you’ve spent years telling yourself a story about the power of self-control. But what’s the alternative? Letting yourself and other people down because you overpromised and now can’t deliver? Running yourself into the ground? Feeling constant low-level guilt that makes it impossible to enjoy what you’re actually doing? I mean, sure, you could do that. But what if you just . . . did less?
What if you didn’t have to offer the best and most thorough answer (or any answer!!!) to every question that arises in your orbit? What if you just let your coworker who is wilding out over something inconsequential go off and didn’t make correcting them your problem? Take it from me, a lifelong answerer and corrector: The world would not end.
Once you start doing less, you begin to realize that it almost always gives you more of what you actually want: more time, more space, more focus, more genuine enjoyment, and a higher likelihood of achieving your goals. But don’t do it for that reason; do it because it’ll make you feel better.
“Do less” is what I say to remind myself that I have limits and I also have agency—and that even if I’m not perfect, I’ll still be OK.
How to Be Alone
A lot of the struggle to honor your own boundaries (and to respect other people’s) is rooted in a fear of being alone—of not having friends, a partner, a family, anyone. I don’t want to ask for help because I’m worried people will judge me and leave me. I don’t want to be my true authentic self because I’m worried no one will love me. I don’t want to say no because I’m worried I’ll stop being invited. All of this is completely understandable! The need for company and attention and a social network is a very real, very human need, and there’s no reason to be ashamed of wanting it.
It’s impossible to honor your own needs if you’re constantly worried that everyone you care about is going to leave you. Being OK with being alone is critical to showing up for yourself, and to living an authentic, fulfilling life. So if you’re deeply uncomfortable being alone—whether that means going to a movie by yourself, or being single—to the point where it’s dictating your decisions or interfering with your relationships, you might want to first spend some time working on accepting yourself.
To be good at being alone, you have to like your own company and have confidence that being alone sometimes (or a lot of the time!) isn’t some huge character flaw or moral failing. But also: Being more comfortable being alone—like everything else!—is something you can get better at with practice.
Some definitions: Going forward, I’ll use “solo” to refer to being in a public space without any sort of companion (e.g., running errands by yourself, but with plenty of strangers around). I’ll use “being alone” to refer to being truly physically alone (so, say, being alone in your home). And I’ll use a definition of “solitude” (and solitary) that comes from authors Raymond Kethledge and Michael Erwin: “a subjective state of mind in which the mind, isolated from input from other minds, works through a problem on its own.” Solitude can happen when you’re alone or solo as long as you’re not receiving any inputs (so: not listening to music, not watching TV, not texting or scrolling through your phone, etc.).
If you think you could stand to get better at being solo, alone, and/or solitary, here are some ways to practice.
Reduce the number of inputs you’re receiving when you’re not alone.
Being a little more solitary when you’re with other people is a great place to start. It’s not exactly the same as being alone with your thoughts, but it’s a step in that direction. First, consider shutting off other sources of entertainment or background noises when you’re with people. (For example, try not listening to the radio if you’re in the car with your partner, or turn off the TV once your roommate arrives home and you start debriefing on the day.) Next, try minimizing inputs when you’re solo. That might look like turning off your music when you’re working out at the gym or putting your phone in airplane mode while you run errands.
Find little ways to go out into the world solo more often.
Being solo can be intimidating, so start small until you build up your tolerance! Look for activities that aren’t too commitment heavy, meaning you can exit at any point. (Sitting at a coffee shop alone is easier than sitting at a bar alone, which is easier than eating at a nice restaurant alone.) You could also be solo in places where people likely won’t notice you or the fact that you’re alone—and/or where you’ll likely never see these people again. So, instead of going to a restaurant alone (where you might feel like other diners keep looking at you), you could go to a movie alone (where everyone is watching the screen) or go to a bar alone when you’re traveling to a different city. And take note of all the people who are solo when you’re out in the world; you’ll likely start to notice that there are a lot of them, and it’s totally fine.
Try meditative activities that aren’t actually meditation.
Meditation is a great way to practice being solitary. But it’s intimidating! Here’s what finally got me over the hump: I tried activities that gave me a taste of what meditation might feel like but that didn’t ask me to go all in. For me, this looked like puzzles, embroidery, and calligraphy, but it could also be building model trains, woodworking, knitting, or baking bread. Think: activities that are repetitive and a bit mindless but still feel stimulating and energizing. If you need to, you can let yourself have one passive input when you start (so, say, listening to music or a podcast), and build up to doing it without any inputs at all.
Reduce your inputs when you’re alone.
I’m comfortable being solo and alone, but I’ll admit that it gets much harder when I don’t have my phone on me. Meditation helped, but so did just doing it more often. One habit that had a major positive impact: putting my phone in airplane mode and reading a book for an hour every Saturday. That meant no longer pausing to Google a word I didn’t recognize, seeing that I had an Instagram notification, opening Instagram, reading and responding to a few DMs, scrolling for twenty minutes, and then forgetting about the word and the book entirely. I thought it would be hard but it actually felt great. I always felt calm and relaxed afterward, and I never once missed anything important.
Try shutting the world out for a few hours by putting your phone on Do Not Disturb and/or airplane mode during solo and alone activities like cooking, running errands, commuting, and getting ready in the morning; you might be surprised by how refreshed and content you feel.
Try reducing your outputs while you’re solo and/or alone.
A lot of the conversation around social media use is framed around consuming content and overlooks the creation part, which is a shame. Because even if you’re not an influencer, there’s a good chance you’re still generating content—so, posting photos, updating your status, texting your people, and documenting your day or your activities . . . or responding to others’ photos, statuses, texts, and documentation. And that’s a problem! First, the moment you begin to document something, the less present you are. And the more you create, the more you invite responses, which traps you in a cycle of liking and responding even more. Constant output is super distracting, saps valuable energy, and ensures that you’re never (or rarely) really alone.
A lot of people take breaks from consuming social media, but it’s also worth taking a hiatus from creating it. Because if you’re constantly texting and posting and messaging, you’re not quite alone with your thoughts, observations, and experiences. When I’m struggling with this, I’ve found it’s helpful to ask myself why I feel such a strong urge to share in the first place, and what, exactly, I’m seeking (or avoiding) in that moment.
How to Say No to an Invite When Your Reason Is “I Just Don’t Want To”
There are few social interactions more panic-inducing than the moment a kind, friendly person invites you to do an activity or attend an event that you really don’t care to do or attend, but you also don’t have a “good” reason to say no. You know the reason is just “. . . nah,” but you are also a kind and friendly person, so you aren’t going to just say that. You have manners! And empathy! And—now, apparently—an obligation to get up and go roller skating next Saturday with a bunch of strangers, even though you deeply don’t want to!
Of course, there are times you should genuinely consider the invite, especially if the person is a close friend who is inviting you to something that means a lot to them. Sometimes, having friends means doing things that aren’t exactly your idea of a good time. You should definitely give your friend’s improv show or housewarming party real consideration before you reflexively refuse. But in the instances when it’s not a super close friend and/or the invite is relatively unremarkable (like, say, to see a movie you’re not interested in or to go out to dinner on a weeknight at a restaurant that’s across town and too pricey for your taste)—when you can technically go but you just don’t want to—it’s OK to decline. Really!
Saying no to hangout requests is a gateway to setting boundaries in general. Realizing you have the right and the ability to say “No, thanks” or “I’m not into that” without the world coming to an end is life-changing. Do it a few times and you’ll begin to see that a cornucopia of possibility and freedom awaits! If, on the other hand, you can’t tell a total stranger “Oh, no thank you, I’d rather not” when they try to offer you a perfume sample at the mall or get you to sign their petition in the park, you’re probably not going to be comfortable telling a friend it’s time to change the subject when their “I hate my boss” monologue enters its third hour. It’s a good idea to practice saying no to the small(ish) asks when they present themselves; over time, the bigger requests will begin to feel less daunting.
Saying no also gives you a chance to learn more about the people in your life and how they treat you. Here’s the thing: Anyone who refuses to take no for an answer with regard to the seemingly small requests probably isn’t great at respecting boundaries in general—which is helpful information to have! Because boundaries are about way more than just roller skating on a Saturday; they can also be about your bodily autonomy, your money, your belongings, and your privacy. And you might find that a person who reacts very badly to “Oh, thank you for the invite, but I’m actually not a big fan of roller skating” has problems taking no for an answer when it comes to the bigger stuff. If your people are guilt-tripping you, pressuring you to do something, or otherwise not “letting” you say no, that’s a Them Problem, not a You Problem. The people who are worthy of your TME will take care to communicate that they respect your needs and preferences, even if they feel disappointed by your “no” in the moment.
Refusing an invitation early on also allows you to avoid the scenario in which you dread the event for weeks and ultimately cancel at the last minute. We can all agree that dreading an event for weeks is a bummer (and way more emotionally draining than just saying no in the first place!), and being canceled on at the last minute is truly frustrating. Also frustrating: hanging out with a person who doesn’t actually want to be there! If my options, as the inviter, are “be momentarily disappointed before finding a buddy who will enjoy the activity I’m proposing” and “spend *my* valuable TME hanging out with someone who doesn’t want to be here, and secretly—or not-so-secretly—resents me for it,” I’m going to choose the former every time! Agreeing to do something you really don’t want to do isn’t necessarily kind; it can actually be pretty selfish.
Speaking of selfish, when I’m feeling guilty about the idea of saying no in these situations, I find it’s helpful to think about whether saying my no is really going to break this person’s heart, or if I just think my presence is way more important than it really is. It can be easy to tell yourself your attendance is a huge deal, or that this event means soooo much to this other person . . . only to say no and have them shrug and invite someone else without giving it a second thought. Of course, sometimes they do care if you say yes! But even if they’re disappointed, they will likely understand and get over it—which is a fine outcome! Taking medium-sized care of yourself is more important than avoiding low-key disappointing your friend. So before you grudgingly agree to go, step back and ask yourself if you’re overvaluing how much your attendance matters.
Declining an invitation can feel stressful or guilt inducing in the moment, but it doesn’t have to be that way! It just takes practice. The more you do it, the more you’ll realize that most people can actually handle it, and that it won’t negatively affect your relationships. If you need help formulating a response for these situations, below are some scripts based on conversations I’ve had in my own life to get you started. As always, you can/should tweak these so they feel right for the request and the relationship.
Regardless of what you say, aim for a warm but relatively neutral and matter-of-fact tone. And keep it short. There’s also no need to beg for forgiveness, get into your personal reasons, or present an eight-part defense as though you’re in a Law & Order rerun. Treat saying no as normal (because it is normal).
What to say
If it’s date-specific, and you’d prefer to be doing Not This on the day/time in question:
“Oh, thank you so much for thinking of me! Unfortunately I won’t be able to make it, but thank you for the invitation!”
“Oh, that sounds lovely, but I won’t be able to make it. But have a great time!”
If you’re probably never going to be up for doing an activity at the suggested day/time:
“Oh, that concert sounds really fun, but I can’t really do big outings on weeknights! But have a great time!”
“Ah, that sounds lovely, but I have a rule that I don’t make plans on Sundays—it’s my day [to decompress and not talk to anyone/catch up with my parents/do all my chores]. But thank you for thinking of me!”
“Oh, that sounds like a blast, but I’m pretty committed to my 10:00 pm sleep schedule on weeknights these days. But thank you for the invite!”
If you’re never going to be up for this activity:
“Roller skating isn’t really my thing, so I’m going to sit this one out!”
“Thank you for thinking of me, but [music festivals/the beach/amusement parks] aren’t really my speed!”
You can also add something like:
“But I’d love to see you and catch up soon! How about [some alternative programming that you both enjoy]?”
If it’s . . . everything:
“Ah, I’d love to [see you/catch up/hang out], but I haven’t been able to get much time for myself lately and I promised myself I’d just hunker down and have a quiet weekend!”
“I don’t really have the bandwidth for much socializing right now, but I would love to [do something else][at some date in the future when you’d be up for it].”
“I don’t have much room for extracurriculars these days, but I would love to [do something else][at some date in the future when you’d be up for it].”
“Ah, that sounds [lovely/fun/amazing], but I haven’t been sleeping well lately and promised myself I’d stop going to so many [happy hours/pool parties/roller-skating networking events] so I can establish a more consistent schedule.”
“I know I haven’t been able to come the last few times you’ve invited me, but it’s not because I don’t want to! [My schedule is just busy][I’m feeling broke][I can’t really do things on weeknights][In general, roller skating isn’t really my jam][I’ve been pretty depressed, honestly, so socializing is a bit of a struggle right now]. But I hope the stars will align soon and I’ll be able to attend!”
This last one is a good option when you’ve declined a couple of invites from the same person and are concerned that they’ll think you’re canceling because you just don’t want to hang out with them. In my experience, it’s way better to be honest and clear about why you’re declining invitations, especially if they’re from close friends who would probably love to know a) how you’re doing, and b) that it’s not about them.
If you need a moment to compose yourself before you respond:
“Let me check my calendar and get back to you!”
(And then actually get back to them quickly—don’t wait for them to follow up!)
In general, it’s a bad idea to fabricate a reason when declining an invite. Here’s why: If you tell a lie that you can’t attend on that particular date (when it’s really about the activity itself), the person might respond by asking you to do this activity on a different day, which will put you in an awkward position. Or they might assume you actually love roller skating and want to be on the invite list for all future local roller skating events. This outcome isn’t good for anyone!
Alternatively, if they somehow find out you didn’t actually have “real” plans (or the plans you claimed to have) that day, or they later discover that you do, in fact, like roller skating, they might actually feel worse—because they’ll assume it was personal. (Which may or may not be true! But even if it is about them, you’re probably not trying to communicate that.)
When you’re simply honest about the reason you can’t make it, you communicate important information: I do, in fact, like you. But I don’t, in fact, like roller skating or weeknight hangouts. The honest response tells them that you trust them enough to be authentic and open with them, and that you care about them enough to build a relationship where you feel seen and known.
But also: Refusing an invitation is not that deep! It’s literally fine.
Let People Decline Your Invitations
If we want to be allowed to say no, we have to be willing to extend that option to others. So remember: If someone declines your invitation, it’s really, really OK. It doesn’t necessarily mean they don’t like you or that they don’t want to be your friend. If someone only ever declines your invitations and you start to suspect they don’t really want to be friends, that’s another matter. But it also might mean they don’t want to be your friend! Which is disappointing and stings, but is also fine—because you don’t actually want to be friends with people who don’t want to be friends with you or who don’t share any of your interests.
If you’re feeling bummed about a “no, thank you,” remind yourself that declining an invite can leave a person feeling vulnerable and requires courage—even from relatively assertive people. I’ve also found it helpful to view a “no” not as a slight, but as a favor—because, again, there is nothing worse than knowing someone was dreading spending time with you or regretted investing their TME in something you wanted to do. They’re also doing you the favor of saying no now instead of saying yes and then flaking on you. And they’re giving you permission to say no to them someday.
So, if someone says, “I can’t make it,” let that be good enough. Trust that they have their reasons, respect their willingness to protect their TME, and move on. If someone says, “I don’t like roller skating,” believe that they simply don’t like roller skating. If someone says they are too busy, don’t judge them for spending the evening “doing nothing” instead. (Making the choice to do nothing, when you are otherwise busy, is a big deal!) If someone says they can’t afford to join you for dinner, don’t mentally catalogue all of the expensive shoes they own and the amount of five-dollar lattes you’ve seen them consume this week. Know that a “no” simply means “This is not how I want to spend my TME at this moment,” and that even if it feels a little bad, it’s OK.
How to Say No to Being a Bridesmaid
This situation is fairly common and so stressful, and a lot of people genuinely don’t realize they can say no. But being a bridesmaid is a huge commitment, even when your best friend or sibling is getting married. Being in the bridal party, like being somebody’s best friend, is neither 100 percent responsibility nor 100 percent honor; it’s a little of both. And stepping into the role when your heart isn’t in it leads to unmet expectations, resentment, frustration, and hurt feelings for everyone involved.
The script below may or may not work for you, but I hope it will at least help you craft your own. Ultimately, it’s important to be honest, firm, kind, and extremely gentle, and to give the person space to be upset with you.
Intro
“I am so honored that you asked me to be one of your bridesmaids, but I’m going to have to decline.”
Reason
If your reason is time, money, or energy: “I know that being a bridesmaid [even for a friend who is chill and doesn’t expect a ton from their bridesmaids, like you!] requires a fair amount of time and money, and I’m stretched so thin right now because of [grad school/work/my newborn].”
If your reason is you aren’t super close and there’s no way you’re buying a dress you’ll never wear again/flying to Mexico (which is still a TME reason): “I know that being a bridesmaid is a big commitment and I don’t feel like I’m up for the task [right now/this year].”
Contrition
“You deserve bridesmaids who are all-in and can really show up for you every step of the way, and I know I can’t do that right now. I care about you and [Partner] a lot, so this isn’t a decision I’m making lightly. I totally understand if you’re disappointed or upset with me for saying no.”
In Conclusion
If you’ll still attend the wedding: “I’ll still be there on your wedding day [weeping during your vows][embarrassing myself on the dance floor][making your grandpa behave himself].”
You could also say, “I’d love to show up for you in other ways that day, if there is another role you need filled, or you just need a warm body to guard the gift table,” (if that is, in fact, something you are up for doing).
If you won’t be attending the wedding: “I am so excited for you and [Partner] and I’m so sorry I can’t be there with you on the big day.”
Canceling Plans
Canceling plans sits at the intersection of showing up for yourself and showing up for other people. From the perspective of showing up for yourself, skipping a social event can be a much-needed self-care move. When you know in your heart that you don’t have it in you to socialize, and are confident that doing it anyway is going to make you feel terrible, it can be a huge relief to let yourself opt out. And so often, canceling is perfectly fine, and the other person won’t mind or think much of it. (They might even be relieved!) Sometimes, canceling plans is the best way to be a good friend—after all, you can’t fully show up for other people if you’re not taking care of yourself, and regularly attending hangouts when you aren’t up for it isn’t good for anyone.
On the other hand, sometimes “showing up” for others means literally showing up for them, and, well, it can be frustrating to be on the receiving end of a cancelation, particularly if you’re the one who arranged your schedule around the plans, were really looking forward to this get-together, or are dealing with a person who regularly flakes. Canceled plans can be inconsiderate and disrespectful, especially if you’re dealing with a repeat offender.
That said, sometimes you just need to bail. You’re coming down with a cold or you’re emotionally drained or you have to work late—whatever. It happens! If you’re a people pleaser who is trying to get better at prioritizing self-care, here are some questions to ask yourself the next time you’re struggling to decide whether or not to cancel.
How are you feeling right now? What’s making you want to cancel?
It’s easy to think, Uggghhh, I don’t want to goooooooooo, without really knowing why. Start by taking inventory of your feelings and try to figure out what, specifically, you need in this moment. Getting to the root of your desire to cancel can help you determine whether canceling will actually solve your problem—and whether being social will do more harm or good.
How will you feel during and after the get-together?
Will you be able to be truly present—that is, fully focused on your friend, with your phone off and put away? Or will you feel stressed, impatient, and/or distracted? Will you feel happy and energized the next day . . . or will you resent the friend for inviting you in the first place, or for the time and money you spent on the outing? Be honest about whether you’re going to be able to give your friend your best (or best-ish) self in this moment. If you’re going to be there physically but will be on another planet emotionally and mentally, that’s a strong sign you should cancel or reschedule.
If you bail, how will you feel?
Take a minute to consider how you’ll feel during and after canceling. If you opt out, will you actually relax/study/rest/do chores with that time, or will you just feel guilty and futz around on Instagram instead? Will you spend more time and energy trying to make it up to the person later than you would if you just went? If your goal is to make a decision confidently and fully own your choice, it can be super helpful to think about it from different angles.
Is there anything you wish you’d done differently early on?
Perhaps when you were making these plans, you told yourself you’d feel more enthusiastic about roller skating or amateur improv or music festivals by the time the big day rolled around . . . but now that day is tomorrow and wow, yeah, you still hate all of those things and really want to cancel. Which I get! I used to find myself in that position regularly! That’s why I’m such a big believer in saying no to invitations when you’re asked. If you determine that you should have just declined at the outset, or spoken up about your needs and preferences sooner, consider making a deal with yourself: You can opt out this time, but the next time a similar invitation comes your way, you have to be honest and say no up front—even if it’s hard, and even if you don’t have a “good” reason. You owe it to yourself and to your friends to do that work.
Is this more of a Them Problem than a You Problem?
If you’re inclined to cancel because you feel terrible every time you hang out with this person or these people, that’s very good information to have! In that case, don’t just consider canceling; consider whether this relationship is actually serving you and worth your time in the first place. (If it’s not, you may find the friend breakup tips in Chapter 10 helpful.)
You OK, buddy?
If you’re regularly canceling plans (or just seriously considering it) because you feel tired, overwhelmed, or just not up for it, do yourself—and your pals—a solid and consider whether something deeper is going on. Losing interest in socializing and being perpetually exhausted can be a sign of mental or physical health issues, so it might be wise to start keeping track of these instances in a journal or an app. Or just take a look at your calendar for the past few months and do some self-reflection! If you find that you’re canceling more plans than you’re keeping, or you feel drained all the time, it might be time to talk to a health care provider or therapist.
How to Cancel Plans Graciously
If you do decide to cancel, it’s not the end of the world. Seriously! Sure, your friend might be bummed out—but it’s helpful to recognize that this is the natural and correct response from them, even if you definitely made the right choice for yourself in this moment. You’re not wrong to cancel, and they’re not wrong to be kind of disappointed. That said, putting a little thought into how you cancel is what will keep canceled plans from turning into five-alarm friendship fire. Here are some tips to keep in mind.
Think about whether you can adjust the plans in any way.
More often than not, our friends just want to see us and don’t care about going to a fancy restaurant or doing a cool activity. So think about what you would be up for doing, and consider offering that as an alternative to your pal instead of outright bailing. You might say something like:
“Hey, friend, I’m completely exhausted and broke right now, and am honestly feeling very stressed about our plans for tomorrow night. I really want to catch up with you, though—would you be up for coming to my place and letting me cook you dinner instead of us going all the way to New Jersey? And we could still plan to go to Medieval Times next month, once I’ve finished this big project and my bonus paycheck has hit.”
Even if they say they’d rather just cancel, most people will really appreciate the fact that you asked them to be a part of the decision-making process. It communicates that you genuinely care about them but still know how to set boundaries and honor your own needs.
Own the titles of Captain Rescheduling and Chief Next Hangout Officer.
If at all possible, reschedule in the same conversation so the friend knows you are still genuinely interested in hanging out with them. If they don’t confirm or they don’t seem very interested, follow up within a week to try to plan something new.
Be as honest as possible about why you’re canceling.
Y’all: Don’t say your car broke down if you’re actually hungover as hell. A lot of the time people can tell when you’re bullshitting them, and an obvious fib can do more damage than the reality you feel a tad embarrassed about. Remember that being honest is an act of vulnerability, and that vulnerability can actually strengthen a friendship.
Be considerate.
Acknowledge that canceling, especially at the last minute, can cost your friend time, money, and energy. That might mean Venmoing them for, say, the cost of their ticket, or the cancellation fee they’re now on the hook for. If it was a group gathering where you were responsible for bringing something (wine, dessert, etc.), offer to drop it off anyway or send it with another friend, if that’s feasible. And always make this part of your initial cancellation message. (So: “I’m so sorry to have to do this, but I’m not going to be able to make it to our mani-pedi appointment tomorrow. The salon’s website says we’ll be charged a twenty-dollar fee, which I will obviously pay.”)
Own what you should have done differently.
Most of us just want to feel like the person at fault for our minor inconvenience or disappointment is taking the situation seriously, and showing that you’ve done some self-reflection can really help communicate that. You might want to say something like, “I’ve realized that when I’m this busy with work, I’m probably never going to be able to make weeknight hangouts happen, but I didn’t want to admit that when you invited me, and I apologize for that.”
Make sure your tone/apology is appropriate for the nature of the event.
There’s a huge difference between asking to reschedule a coffee date with a coworker pal and telling your best friend you won’t be coming to their wedding next week. If you’re overly apologetic for a fairly minor cancellation (e.g., “I’m the absolute WORST. Do you totally hate me? Can you ever forgive me?”), you run the risk of making your buddy feel like they need to comfort you. But being really casual and nonchalant about a significant cancellation isn’t a good look either. If you’re tempted to overcompensate (or be rather dismissive), it might be because you’re actually feeling vulnerable or uncomfortable about your choice. While that’s totally normal, it’s a good idea to take a moment to center yourself and really own your decision, which will allow you to operate from a sincere, confident, and emotionally honest place when you do ultimately cancel.
Dealing with Boundary Violations
Hopefully by now you are getting more comfortable with the idea of telling people no or asking for what you need. But communicating a boundary violation—even one that’s seemingly small and straightforward, like telling someone to stop asking for your Netflix password—can feel particularly fraught. You not only have to be vulnerable, you’re also criticizing another person for something that can feel close to who they are instead of just being about their behavior. And because it all seems so personal, you might feel the need to be extra sure that you’re “allowed” to say something at all. But of course you’re allowed to say something! And, in fact, you often should!
If you’re hesitant to speak up because you’re not sure whether something really did cross the line, that’s totally understandable! We don’t always “just know” that something isn’t cool with us, and the boundaries that are considered obvious or normal (from a legal, cultural, and psychological perspective) are constantly changing. That said, there are established norms when it comes to boundaries, and if you’re ever unsure about whether something “counts” as bad, it can be helpful to turn to experts to help you see what is healthy and unhealthy; appropriate and inappropriate; abusive or safe or “normal.”
Or you can just talk to other people you trust! Of course, this method isn’t foolproof—you may discover that your loved ones have extremely outdated definitions of consent, for example—but it’s a good place to start. Sometimes you have to share an experience out loud or see it written down to realize how messed up it is.
Once you’re sure that someone has crossed a boundary, it’s time to communicate that their behavior is not acceptable. Feel free to dial these suggestions down to extremely gentle, or way up to “Seriously, fuck off.”
What to say
“That’s actually really not OK with me at all.”
“Yeah, I’m not cool with that, to be honest.”
“I’m really not comfortable [doing this thing], and I need you to let it go.”
“I find that question pretty inappropriate actually.”
“That’s a really private topic, and it’s not something I want to talk about with you.” (Note: It can feel incredibly rude to say “with you” to someone, but it’s important, particularly if the person is assuming you have a closer relationship than you want to have, or if they are going to immediately start whining that you do want to talk about it—with other people.)
“I think we have pretty different comfort levels with regard to this, but my stance is X, it’s not going to change, and I’d really like for us to drop this forever and move on.”
“This is a no-go for me, and I really need you to accept that.”
“I really don’t [like that/want to discuss this with you]. Please stop.”
“I know this is something you [expect me to do/really want/think all friends should share] but I just don’t feel the same way, and I’d really like you to stop asking me about it or trying to convince me to see it your way.”
“I feel pretty strongly about this and you’re not going to change my mind. I’d like to change the subject now, please!”
“I’ve told you several times that I’m not OK with you [doing this thing]. The fact that you keep pushing me on this is really weird and extremely not OK, and it needs to stop.”
“What you’re doing is gross and probably illegal, and it needs to never happen ever again.”
“I’m reaching my limit on how much of this I’m willing to put up with.”
“I’ve told you how I feel about this; why do you keep pushing it?”
And if appropriate, you can communicate the consequences that will occur if the person doesn’t respect your boundary. That might sound something like . . .
“If you keep pushing this, I’m going to call it a night and head home.”
“I know X is important to you, but I feel very different about it, and if you continue to pressure me, it’s ultimately going to get in the way of our having a close relationship.”
“I can’t be friends with someone who doesn’t respect this boundary.”
“If you can’t hear me on this, I think we are going to have a pretty serious problem.”
“I have to be honest: If you keep doing this, I’m going to stop [talking to you/hanging out with you/attending your parties/being a member of this group].”
“I want to have a relationship with you, but you’re not respecting a boundary that’s important to me, and I really need that to change or I’m not going to come around anymore.”
Finally, remember that being misaligned about boundaries might be a deal breaker—and that doesn’t necessarily mean that either of you are doing anything wrong. It just means this friendship isn’t meant to be, or isn’t meant to progress past a certain point—which is fine!
Your Phone
Like many people, I spend a fair amount of time looking at various screens. And while I don’t believe our phones are the root of all evil, I acknowledge that when it comes to showing up for myself (and others), my phone regularly gets in the way. As Cal Newport writes in Digital Minimalism, “Increasingly, [our phones] dictate how we behave and how we feel, and somehow coerce us to use them more than we think is healthy, often at the expense of other activities we find more valuable.”9
Now, you may be thinking, But I use my phone to talk to my friends, which is a form of self-care. Which is true! That’s why I’m not advocating for renouncing all technology and moving to the woods.
The overall evidence on using the internet to foster social connections is mixed. But there are some things we do know and that are worth real consideration. First, interacting with people mainly through your phone and social media means you have less time to spend connecting with people in real life, and that real life connection is still pretty important from a cognitive and psychological perspective (even if it doesn’t necessarily feel different or important to you). Further, communicating digitally can easily overwhelm our brains in a way that in-person interaction just doesn’t. And the less we socialize in the real world, the harder it becomes to reenter the meatspace again.
Track Your IRL Conversations
Author Celeste Headlee says that while she was writing her book We Need to Talk, she kept a pen-and-paper running tally of every face-to-face interaction she had each day. “Before this exercise, I estimated that I probably had three or four substantive conversations a day,” she writes. “But after tracking them carefully, it turned out that most days I was having perhaps one or two, sometimes none. It felt like more because I was communicating with people all day. But I was rarely talking to them.” I don’t even need to make a list to know this is true for me too. (And not just when I’m in a foxhole writing a book.) And it was far more pronounced when I was living alone, not dating anyone. If you are convinced you’re getting plenty of IRL interaction, it might be helpful to start tracking this and see what you learn.
What’s more, staying in touch with people might actually be overrated. One of the most compelling articles I came across when researching this topic was an interview in The New York Times with Dr. Robin Dunbar, a professor of evolutionary psychology at Oxford. Dunbar told the Times that social media apps allow us “to maintain relationships that would otherwise decay.”10 While most of us tend to think of this as a good thing, it’s actually not. Some of these relationships actually should decay—that’s necessary for us to have the time and space to establish and nurture new ones.
Even if you feel your phone usage is healthy overall, it’s likely that your phone (and social media apps more specifically) cost real time and energy that could have been used to show up for yourself or someone else. Think about how many times you’ve told yourself you’re going to do something that will make you feel good—take a shower, email a friend, make dinner, go to bed—and have spent that time doing something far less valuable on your phone instead.
That isn’t to say that mindless scrolling is always bad; sometimes, self-care looks like shutting your brain off for a little while. This is why it’s helpful to get really clear on exactly how and why you’re using your apps—so you can then decide if they should be a priority or not. It’s also worth exploring if you’re using the app for your core purpose most of the time or if you’re starting out with good intentions (say, connecting with your long-distance siblings) but quickly devolving into something that isn’t so good (looking at your high school frenemy’s baby photos and talking shit about them to your other friends).
To unpack this more, start by making a list of the social apps you use the most. Think: Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat, TikTok, YouTube, and whatever app hasn’t been invented yet but will be our latest obsession by the time this book goes to press. (By the way, I’m going to cover messaging—texting, Facebook Messenger, WhatsApp, Slack, Google Hangouts, etc.—later on, but you can definitely include messaging apps in the following exercises if you want to!)
Go through each app on your list and write down the core reasons you are using each one. It might be things like . . .
Once you’ve done that, identify any ways in which your current app usage isn’t helping achieve that goal and/or is bringing about other negative consequences in your life. Then brainstorm other ways you might fill that same need, but via a more direct (read: app-free) route. Even if the alternatives seem like they might be impossible, write them down anyway. So, your list might look something like this . . .
Core reason I use this app: To see what my friends have been up to
Problem: The people whose updates I actually care about are getting lost in all the noise.
Alternatives: I could call my close friends, email them, or video chat with them regularly. I could also unfriend and unfollow about 90 percent of the people whose posts I’m currently seeing.
Core reason I use this app: To get creative inspiration
Problem: I’m distracted by Stories, memes, influencer #sponcon, and DMs with pals, and I’m spending more time consuming inspiration (and garbage) than I am actually producing anything.
Alternatives: I could seek out creative inspiration in the real world—going to museums, reading books, attending talks, etc.—and set aside phone-free time each week to actually produce something.
Core reason I use this app: To catch up on important news; to find interesting things to read
Problem: I have to wade through a sea of clickbait, drama, Nazi propaganda, and memes that make me feel old.
Alternatives: I could read the a news website at a set time each day, read the physical paper, or watch the morning and evening news. I could sign up for newsletters, go directly to my favorite users’ profiles to get their recommendations, or visit my favorite websites to see what’s new.
Any app
Core reason I use this app: To zone out
Problem: I’m zoning out for too long or too often, and I feel guilty because I’m not getting to do the other things I care about and want to do.
Alternatives: I could recognize that we all need to zone out every once in a while and not be so hard on myself. I could also set time limits around my zone-out times, make that the reward for doing other things, or experiment with other forms of zoning out that feel healthier or more contained.
Of course, some of these alternatives might seem impossible—for example, calling a friend or writing them an email takes time, which you may not feel like you have. But perhaps you would have the time if you weren’t spending so much time scrolling through inane bullshit on your apps under the guise of connecting with friends. Instead of spending an hour a day on Facebook, you could have twenty-minute phone calls with two or three different friends—which will definitely feel more meaningful.
Consider, at the very least, setting boundaries around your app usage. Here are some that I’ve found personally helpful that you might want to try.
Texting/Messaging
I have to be honest: I love messaging—texting, Slack, all of it. It’s convenient and fun and allows me to stay in touch with people, particularly long-distance friends.
That said, I also recognize the ways it has been a problem in my life. It’s terrible for my wrists, neck, back, and eyes. Knowing I can stop what I’m doing at pretty much any moment to text a friend makes me far less present in my daily life. In many cases, it’s simply made me too available—to people I really shouldn’t be that available to. By the time I realize this, it’s too late. I’m trapped in a cycle where I feel like I have to respond, and quickly—because I’ve given the impression that I will—and that if I don’t, they’ll be disappointed. As my friend Gyan once put it, “Replying to people feels like a full-time job.”
Messaging isn’t all bad; in fact, a lot of it is great! I genuinely treasure the conversations I have with friends via text. But I can’t deny the fact that having several side conversations during the day—some of which were part of my job, but many of which were not—had a negative effect on my creative output and how I felt overall. It’s shockingly easy to expend a lot of mental and creative energy on this steady drip-drip-drip of words all day, which can leave you feeling quite drained, even though you’re not actually producing anything.
Messaging made it harder for me to do the things I actually wanted to do (read, engage in hobbies, not accidentally step into traffic); felt like a huge obligation; and was skewing my ratio of showing up for others versus showing up for myself too far toward other people. And every time I’d pick up my phone to respond to a message, I’d inevitably waste more time looking at other dumb apps I didn’t actually care about.
So I finally set boundaries around messaging. It turned out that most people didn’t really care if I responded to a message in five minutes or five hours. And I realized that the people who hassled me about it were less interested in talking to me and more interested in having a responsive, friend-shaped receptacle where they could unleash their every thought whenever they felt like it. And that felt really shitty, and not like a friendship at all.
If messaging is stressing you out or interfering with your goals and your life, it’s time to establish new boundaries and reclaim your attention. Here are some questions to think about as you examine your current messaging habits and consider how you ended up here.
What to say
“I’ve realized that I need to be more focused during the day, which means I can’t keep up with our normal messaging anymore.”
“I love our chats, but I’m so busy right now, I can’t deny that the frequency is keeping me from getting [work/studying/other obligations] done.”
“I love talking to you but I’ve realized that [being on my phone so much/texting with friends all day/chatting up until bedtime] is really interfering with my [productivity/big life goals/sleep schedule].”
You could also add:
“Trust me, I’d much rather be chatting with you all the time, but I recognize that I need to suck it up and do this.” And then: “So I’m going to [turn off messaging notifications entirely/delete FB Messenger from my phone/be completely unavailable during the day].”
And if—if!!!!!!—you want to, you can say something like:
“But I love talking to you and would love to catch up [once a week on a Skype call/via phone while commuting home/at our regularly scheduled coffee date].”
Try not to overthink it or bend over backward apologizing; what you’re asking for here is reasonable, and you don’t need to justify your decision or argue about whether this is fair. They might be disappointed, but no relationship guarantees any of us the right to another person’s attention and energy whenever we feel like chatting.
Then—and this is huge—you have to actually do it. This part can be hard, particularly if the person continues to message you as if nothing has changed. (In my experience, a lot of people will do just that, often framing it as, “I know you’re offline so I’m just leaving this here for you to read later.”) It’s not just about asking them to change their behavior or adjust their expectations; it’s about training yourself to be OK with unread messages and those little red notification bubbles and the idea of disappointing people. If you don’t hold firm, you’re teaching them that your boundaries don’t actually matter.
Remember that texting is a relatively modern invention, and so is the expectation of constant availability. As Andrea Bonior says of ye olden days before smartphones, “People simply had no expectation that if they had a thought while they were driving across a bridge, they’d be able to share it with their friend Shirley right that very second.”11
Finally, consider that if you have to do this much work to enforce boundaries around messaging, or spend a ton of time and energy brainstorming creative solutions to appease a person who wants to message you constantly, it might be a sign of a bigger problem with the relationship. Constant availability isn’t a given in friendships, particularly as people get older, and as partners, children, and other priorities begin to take precedence. (And even with a romantic partner or a child or parent, you’re still allowed to say, “This is too much.”) In my experience, people who aren’t great with respecting my boundaries and needs when it comes to communication aren’t great at respecting my boundaries in general. So should you find yourself in this situation, or if this advice really resonated with you, be sure to take an honest look at the relationship as a whole.
Monotasking
Since we’re talking about how to have more time and energy, I’ll share one of the biggest ways I practice showing up for myself: by monotasking.
First, some definitions: Monotasking is focusing on a single task for a set period of time. The opposite of monotasking is what experts call switch-tasking. Switch-tasking is moving between cognitively demanding tasks, like checking your email, updating a spreadsheet, responding to IMs, and shopping online. And it doesn’t just happen at work. You could switch-task by toggling between Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and texting, or by going from folding laundry to responding to a DM to changing the channel on the TV to Googling the answer to a Jeopardy! question. Meanwhile, background-tasking is doing something like listening to a podcast while you clean your bathroom, and isn’t quite as big a deal. (It does matter when it comes to solitude, though—see How to Be Alone.)
Like a lot of people, I used to switch-task pretty much nonstop. I dabbled in monotasking for a bit, but I didn’t really prioritize it across all areas of my life until I read the management book The Mind of the Leader, in which the authors write that switch-tasking makes us “masters of everything that is irrelevant.”12 YIKES. But also . . . true? Experts agree that switch-tasking simply doesn’t work. When your attention is divided across tasks and tabs and devices and conversations, you end up feeling less whole. It left me feeling drained and scattered, and the scientific evidence and my own lived experience told me that I wasn’t actually getting shit done this way.
Even when you know switch-tasking is bad, it’s still so damn appealing. For starters, humans are basically hardwired to do it. In the moment, all of those pings and tasks can make us feel important and special and popular. And not being available to everyone all the time can leave us feeling guilty. I don’t know about you, but I like being responsive; it makes me feel like a good, attentive friend. But the reality is, I’m not showing up for the people I’m with, the person who is pinging me, or myself when I’m switch-tasking. So I gave it up.
Monotasking takes practice; if you’re used to switch-tasking, focusing on a single task will feel kind of stressful at first. I started small: I stopped texting while I walked. Then I put my phone in Do Not Disturb mode while cooking and focused entirely on the food. I started going offline during the day at work. Unsurprisingly, I got so much done this way—tasks that I thought would take me forty-five minutes only took me twenty. And I just felt better.
Do I stick with monotasking all the time? I do not. It’s hard! But monotasking is now something I think of like exercising or eating healthy: a habit I need to stick with most of the time as a way of showing up.
Stop Hurting Your Own Feelings
To hurt your own feelings is to engage in completely optional behaviors that you know make you feel bad. And the optional part really is key. This isn’t about the situations in which you can’t avoid terrible or annoying or abusive people; it’s about the situations when you know the “block” and “mute” and “unfollow” and “log off” buttons exist, and you’re simply refusing to use them.
Hurting your own feelings very often happens online. The posts, photos, videos, and comments in our everyday feeds can fuel rage, hopelessness, fear, or all of the above. Our apps fuel envy, which is often behind the feelings of anxiety, inferiority, unease, irritation, and anger that follow a 30-minute jaunt through Facebook, Instagram, and/or Twitter. (Hell, I’ll even acknowledge the existence of LinkedIn for this one! Job envy is real!)
Not hurting your own feelings online means knocking off the social media behaviors that you know make you feel bad or are simply a waste of time. Think: looking at your ex’s photos; looking at your ex’s new partner’s photos; looking at photos of your ex’s new partner’s family and friends; posting selfies just to see who likes/responds; following an Instagram influencer or colleague whose posts make you feel bad; and following anyone you think is extremely ignorant or who you wish would shut the fuck up and log off. Like, I get it but also: You shut the fuck up and log off!!!
Not hurting your own feelings means making the choice to stop spending valuable time and energy pissing yourself off. Because whether it’s happening in the real world (like at work) or on social media, continuing to pay close attention to people who have hurt you or who you don’t like or whose life updates leave you feeling A Way does cost you. For example, every time you see their posts or hear mention of them, you’re going to think about all the reasons they suck (or feel like you suck), and those negative feelings are going to take up space in your brain and your day, even if you’re not directly interacting with them. And who is that hurting? Hint: not them!!!!
If you’ve already decided that someone upsets you, you don’t need more evidence. And if you continue to look for more proof of this person’s shittiness (or their “unearned” success) so you can nurture your grievances, you’ll find yourself trapped in a negative feedback loop that . . . does what exactly? Maybe you feel powerful or self-righteous for a moment, but that feeling never really lasts. So not hurting your own feelings is saying, “This person upsets me for [insert reason]. There is no new information I could possibly glean from following them/interacting with them and then stewing over or yelling about the most recent thing they did.” When you know, unequivocally, that someone sucks, all the additional evidence does is make you feel worse.
In other instances, hurting your own feelings might look like testing other people and waiting for them to disappoint you—so you can then be angry about it. It’s asking to be included in a work meeting you know you aren’t going to be included in. It’s trying to date people who are definitely unavailable. It’s refusing to share what you want or need, and then lashing out when you don’t get it. Not hurting your own feelings means replacing those behaviors with ones that make you feel affirmed and whole, like you’re making meaningful progress toward the life you want to live, or that you’re simply good enough as you are.
We hurt our own feelings for the same reason we pick at scabs—because even though it isn’t exactly positive behavior, it provides a rush that can, in the moment, feel . . . well, not good, but something sort of like good. Hurting your own feelings can make you feel like you’re solving a problem (even though you’re not) and allows you to believe for the moment that you’re in control. After a breakup, it’s a way to continue giving the person attention even though you aren’t really allowed to give them attention anymore. And when we’re feeling sad or disappointed or worried or vulnerable, it’s so much easier to assign blame to other people—or to simply distract ourselves—than it is to name all of our negative and uncomfortable feelings, to simply sit with them, or to admit we’re powerless to change the situation.
Making space is ultimately about protecting yourself—your time, and also your heart—and not hurting your own feelings is a way to remind yourself that you have some agency. Like, there are enough cruel people in the world who are more than happy to hurt us; we really don’t need to do that work for them.