I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I learned that making people happy meant I was doing something right. Maybe it was in school, when being the “good kid” made life easier. Maybe it was at home, where I felt the weight of unspoken expectations. Or maybe it was in friendships, where I noticed how quickly warmth could turn cold if I said the wrong thing.
Like many neurodivergent people, I grew up watching and calculating, figuring out the safest way to exist in every space. Psychologists call this masking, the unconscious process of suppressing natural behaviors to fit social norms. For us neurodivergent folx, masking can be a survival skill, especially in childhood when the fear of rejection is at its peak.
Studies show that children who feel different from their peers often develop hyper-awareness of social cues, leading them to overcompensate in relationships by being overly agreeable, accommodating, or self-sacrificing.
But this kind of emotional labor comes at a cost. When we’re constantly monitoring ourselves to avoid conflict or make others comfortable, we internalize the belief that who we naturally are isn’t enough. Instead of developing authenticity, we develop adaptability. And while adaptability is useful, it’s exhausting when it becomes a full-time job.
I’ve lost count of the times I’ve said “yes” when I meant “no.” The times I stayed in conversations, friendships, even relationships longer than I should have, because I didn’t want to be the source of someone else’s disappointment. But here’s the thing about people-pleasing; it’s never enough. You can pour everything into making someone happy, and they can still walk away unsatisfied.
Neuroscientists have found that chronic people-pleasing activates the brain’s stress response system, keeping us in a state of self-doubt. When we prioritize others’ emotions over our own, our brains interpret it as a form of social survival. This is especially true for those with rejection-sensitive dysphoria (RSD), a condition commonly linked to ADHD, where the fear of disappointing others feels physically painful.
I remember one instance when I was bending over backward to keep a friendship intact, even though I knew deep down it was one-sided. Every time I sensed distance, I worked harder, being more supportive, more available, more understanding; until I was drained. And when I finally pulled away, I realized that my presence had only been valuable when I was making their life easier. The second I stopped; I was no longer needed.
That moment was both heartbreaking and freeing. It forced me to ask myself: If my worth depends on my usefulness to others, do I really have a place in their life at all?
For a long time, I convinced myself that if I could just try harder, be more patient, more accommodating, more agreeable; then people wouldn’t leave. That the discomfort of swallowing my own needs was better than the pain of disappointing someone. But the truth is, when your presence is conditional on how well you serve others, you’re not really seen, you’re only used.
I hit my breaking point when I realized how much of myself, I had given away in exchange for approval that never lasted. The constant self-editing, the over-explaining, the way I held my breath in conversations, always waiting for a sign that I had said too much or too little. It wasn’t just exhausting; it was erasing me.
This is called self-abandonment, a pattern where people-pleasers suppress their emotions, desires, and boundaries to maintain relationships. Over time, this leads to a loss of identity. A study on emotional exhaustion found that those who chronically prioritize external validation experience higher rates of anxiety, depression, and burnout. In other words, the more we sacrifice ourselves for others, the more disconnected we become from our own needs.
Letting go of this pattern wasn’t easy. The first time I started setting boundaries, it felt unnatural, like I was doing something wrong. When I said “no” without over-explaining, I felt guilty. When I stopped chasing one-sided relationships, I feared being alone. I realized that the fear of disappointing others had been controlling me for so long that I had never asked myself: What if disappointing people IS okay? What if it’s necessary?
I recently found out a common theory in social dynamics suggests that; One-third of people will like you no matter what. One-third will be neutral or indifferent. One-third may dislike you, regardless of what you do. And let's not forget cognitive dissonance & projection. Sometimes, people dislike you because they project their own insecurities onto you. This is tied to cognitive dissonance, where someone unconsciously dislikes a trait in you that they struggle with themselves.
Reflecting on my journey, I’ve come to understand that people pleasing is not inherently bad; kindness and compassion are valuable traits. However, it’s crucial to find a balance between caring for others and caring for ourselves. By recognizing my patterns and setting boundaries, I’ve started to cultivate healthier relationships built on mutual respect and understanding.
To those who resonate with my story, I encourage you to examine your own experiences with people pleasing. Have you found yourself sacrificing your happiness for the sake of others? Remember, it’s okay to prioritize your own needs and desires.
At some point, we all have to make a choice; live for the approval of others or live for ourselves. Disappointing people is inevitable. Someone will always want you to be softer, quieter, less complicated, more convenient. But their expectations are not your responsibility.
Start small: practice saying no when you need to, express your feelings openly, and embrace your authenticity. The journey may be challenging, but it’s also incredibly rewarding. Remember, disappointment is not rejection; If someone is upset because you enforced a boundary, that doesn’t mean they’re abandoning you. It means they have to adjust to the version of you that values yourself. That not everyone deserves access to you; If a relationship requires you to sacrifice your peace, it’s not a relationship, it’s a transaction. And self-worth isn’t something you earn. You don’t have to overextend yourself to be valuable. Your existence alone is enough.
The more I’ve let go of the need to please everyone, the more I’ve felt at home in myself. And the irony? The people who truly see me, the ones who appreciate me without conditions; were there all along. I was just too busy chasing approval to notice. So, if you’re tired of being everything to everyone, consider this your permission to stop. To take up space. To let people be disappointed. Because at the end of the day, the only person you have to live with is you.