People-Pleasing, Burnout, and the Power of “Yes” and “No”

March 2022 in New York. Photo by Quinn Corte.

Listen to the audio version below:

I was a "yes" junkie...until it nearly killed me. 

You see, I grew up saying “yes” to almost everything. I gave a charming, gracious, competent “of course!” to anything and everything that might bring me success, praise, or love.

Saying "yes" served me pretty well on the outside. I’ve been charmed with amazing opportunities, and people have generally been impressed by my output.

So, I diligently rode the “yes” train until a few years ago, when that train crashed into a brick wall.

I suffered from severe burnout—a perfect storm of my marriage, job, home, and lifestyle all ending around the same time—culminating in a fried nervous system and a broken heart.

I had been in an abusive relationship with my museum job for a year or two before I quit. After a decade of loving my job, I found it nearly impossible to admit that it had become a train wreck. I thought it loved me as much as I loved it, but it didn't. Even though I was slowly dying inside, I stayed and stayed, trying to make it work. I only called it quits when my health spiraled into a place I couldn’t ignore.

After that crash, I sat still for a long time. The world felt very different when it wasn’t speeding by. I took stock of how saying “yes” to everything had harmed me. It seemed that trying to prove myself had actually made me abandon myself.

So during my recovery, I started saying “no” to everything. It was a survival method at first; I had nothing left to give. I was traumatized by a lifetime of overwhelm and needed to clear the decks.

At first saying “no” felt terrifying. Who was I without performing? Did I have any value if I was sitting still? What if people hated me—or forgot about me?

The truth is that some relationships did fizzle, I did disappoint people, and I definitely missed out. But also: I had fresh air to breathe. Infinite time to think. The freedom of intentionally choosing each step, rather than being hurled passively along an endless track.

Over time, saying “no” became a revolution. It gave me my life back.

Saying “no” showed me that I don’t have to give each request equal weight. Instead of saying “yes” to everything that was asked of me, I got to decide what deserved my time and energy. I learned that the discomfort of letting someone down is brief, but the benefit can last months.

“No” started to become my armor, protecting me from a demanding world. Because I only said “yes” to things that felt really safe and aligned, I was doing way less than I used to.

A few months ago I was in this “no thanks” headspace when I got a call.

My colleague friend was managing the next Costume Institute exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and she wanted me to come work with her. It would be a wild ride, she confessed. Nine Hollywood directors were conceptualizing thirteen scenes in the Met’s historical period rooms, and she needed help. There would be frequent travel and demanding hours, but…it was the biggest museum exhibit of the year, and she was offering me a golden ticket.

When I hung up to think about it, my heart was racing. I was so psyched and so viscerally scared.

It wasn’t the work itself that scared me. I knew I was ready to manage an exhibition of this size; that part felt like a scary thrill.

What scared me was the possibility that if I stepped back into stressful work, I might lose myself again. How could I get back on the “yes” train after the trauma of that crash?

But underneath that initial trauma response, I was so damn excited. I knew that I would not say “no” to this opportunity. I was perfect for this job, and the part of me that loves a challenge (and celebrities) was chomping at the bit after years of playing it safe.

And most importantly, I knew I was ready. Even though I was scared to willingly put myself in a pressure cooker again, I had been diligently healing my relationship with stress and work. My body was strong and stable. I had put in the inner work of building up my identity and self-worth outside of my work. And this particular opportunity had the added benefit of an end-date.

I said “yes” with my eyes wide open.

~

My friend was right. The job was a wild ride.

I shed blood, sweat, and tears. There were fantastic highs and tense lows. I met so many people. I have so many stories. I procured powdered wigs and prop fencing swords, saw the First Lady speak at our opening, and shared a few chuckles with Martin Scorsese. I’m so glad I didn’t say “no.”

Most importantly, this job strengthened my sense of self. I proved I am capable of working hard without betraying myself. I can be successful without suffering. I can take a ride on the “yes” train and hop off when I’m done—windswept and fully in-tact.

For so long, “yes” was my way of seeking love. Instead of checking in with myself about whether to proceed, I checked in with the expectations of those around me.

At work, I used to say "yes" because I wanted to be good at my job. I learned the hard way that taking on everything doesn't command respect; it results in a mounting workload, a warped sense of self-importance, and an unsustainable daily existence. The most respected leaders have firm boundaries. Now I do, too. 

When I look back on my burnout recovery, I understand why I had to stand firmly in “no” for a few years. It was the only way I could learn what a true “yes” feels like in my body. Now that I’ve regulated and re-entered the world, I have faith in my “yes” and my “no” because they are coming from within.

~

I invite you to reflect on your own relationship with "yes" and "no." 

When life extends you an invitation, do you default to “yes” or “no”?

When you think about leaning in the opposite direction, what scares you most?

Maybe you’re a chronic people-pleaser buried under the weight of obligations. Is it time to hop off the “yes” train and practice disappointing people?

Or have you been clinging to “no” for so long that it’s forming a protective barrier between you and your life?

~

This next chapter of my work will be an exploration of the balance between diving in and stepping back. How can I take care of myself as I work hard? How can I build in recovery and integration periods into my work? How can I remain a whole person with real needs and be a badass?

There's so much to unpack around the systemic, institutional, and individual shifts needed to support us as we become whole, healthy people who also work hard.

But for now, I’m saying "yes" to a much-needed vacation.


Here's a peek at the fashion exhibition I helped produce. It's on view at the Met in New York through September 5th. Buy tickets here.