Episode 101

Why You Can't Say No to the People You Love Most

Imagine there is a school fundraiser coming up. A mom hears about it, and her brain immediately starts spinning with ideas. She could make donuts. She has not made those in ages, and there are those cute sprinkles in the pantry. Or maybe she could make the pinwheel cookies with cream cheese icing.

She is mentally halfway down the baking aisle when her daughter tells her what she actually wants: the cupcakes from the bakery section with the big swirl of chocolate frosting on top.

For a moment, the mom is stunned. Then she realizes something important. This is her daughter's event, not hers. Her daughter does not need homemade pinwheel cookies. She wants the store-bought cupcakes.

Nobody in this story is doing anything wrong. The mom is not trying to be a martyr. She genuinely wants to make something special because she loves her daughter. That is what makes over-giving at home so difficult to recognize. It rarely feels like over-giving while you are doing it.

It feels like love.

At Home, There Is No Job Description

At work, there is usually at least some definition of what you are responsible for. You have a job description, a title, or some theoretical boundary between your role and everyone else's.

At home, no such document exists.

Nobody sits you down and defines exactly what being a good parent, partner, family member, or friend requires. There is no scope of work explaining how available you should be, how much effort you should put into birthdays, how often you should say yes, or when you have officially done enough.

So we fill in the blanks ourselves, and those roles can become very full.

Many of us have also absorbed the idea that busyness is virtuous. A good parent is always available. A good friend drops everything when someone needs them. A good partner makes time no matter how tired they are. Sitting down when there are still dishes in the sink can somehow feel like evidence that you are not doing enough.

Eventually, even rest starts requiring a justification.

Why Is It So Hard to Simply Rest?

Think about the last time you sat down and did absolutely nothing while feeling completely fine about it. Not because you were so exhausted that your body forced you to stop. Not while mentally running through your to-do list. Not while feeling guilty because you knew there were things you could be doing.

Just resting.

For many people, that is surprisingly difficult.

Sometimes we even perform productivity in our own homes. You finally sit down on the couch, close your eyes for a few minutes, and then hear someone coming through the door. Suddenly, you are sitting upright and reaching for the nearest object as though you need proof that you were doing something.

Underneath that seemingly silly reaction can be a deeply rooted belief: I am not allowed to be tired in front of the people who depend on me.

We start treating rest as something we earn after everything else is finished. The problem, of course, is that everything is never finished. There will always be another dish, another email, another load of laundry, another conversation, another errand, or another person who could use something from you.

If rest has to wait until there is nothing left to do, rest never comes.

Availability and Love Are Not the Same Thing

This is where things get complicated because most of what we are doing does not feel like obligation. It feels like being the person we want to be.

Dropping everything when a friend calls during a difficult moment feels like love. Making homemade cookies feels like love. Saying yes to a birthday party when you are exhausted feels like friendship. Sitting through your partner's favorite television show when your mind is somewhere else feels like quality time.

But somewhere along the way, we can start confusing availability with love, and they are not the same thing.

Availability is logistical. It tells someone whether you are physically there or whether you said yes. Love has much more to do with the quality of what you bring when you are there.

The people closest to us can often tell when we are giving from depletion. Your partner knows when you are sitting beside them but mentally somewhere else. Your children notice when your patience disappears because you have had no break all day. Saying yes does not automatically mean that you have anything meaningful left to give.

Sometimes the most loving thing you can do is create enough space to show up with something left in your tank.

You Are Allowed to Need Something Too

I remember one day when my children were younger. I had promised to take them to the playground at the end of a long day, and by the time we got into the car, I was already wrung out.

Then the bickering started.

It was the full-volume kind of sibling bickering that makes your shoulders rise toward your ears. Without saying anything, I turned into a coffee stand. The backseat suddenly became very quiet, followed by a concerned little voice asking whether we were still going to the playground.

I told them we were, but I needed a few minutes first.

I got a cold drink, sat in the parking lot, and took a few minutes to reset. My children watched me wait until I felt ready to continue. Then we went to the playground, and we genuinely had fun because I arrived with something left to give them.

I have thought about that moment many times since. It was not dramatic, but it modeled something I wanted my children to understand. Their mother was not a bottomless reservoir of energy, patience, and attention. Sometimes I needed to stop and refuel, and they could handle waiting while I did it.

One day, they may be parents or partners themselves. I want them to know that having needs does not mean they are failing the people they love.

Your Reset Does Not Need to Be Elaborate

When I talk about taking care of yourself before moving into the next part of your day, I am not necessarily talking about spa days, massages, or elaborate self-care rituals. Those things can be wonderful, but sometimes arranging them creates more work than the experience solves.

What I am talking about can be much simpler: a small decompression ritual that helps you transition from one part of your day into another.

One person I worked with realized he needed to take a shower immediately after getting home from work before he could really be present with his family. It was not about avoiding them. He needed 10 minutes that told his nervous system the workday was over and another part of his life was beginning.

Another person would go into her walk-in closet, sit on the floor in the dark, and breathe for five minutes. It may sound unusual until you understand what she was creating. She had found a small place where nobody needed anything from her, allowing her to pause between the person she needed to be all day and the person she wanted to be at home.

Your version does not need to look like anyone else's. It simply needs to create a genuine transition, and it needs to be protected. A decompression ritual that disappears the second someone asks for something is not much of a ritual.

What Is Your Store-Bought Cupcake Version?

There is another way to create some breathing room at home, and it brings us back to that school fundraiser.

Look for one place where you are consistently giving more than anyone actually asked you to give. Maybe you are making the homemade version when everyone would be perfectly happy with something from the store. Maybe you are staying in conversations long after you have run out of energy. Maybe you keep saying yes to evening activities and then feel guilty because you are too depleted to enjoy them.

Ask yourself: What would the store-bought cupcake version of this look like?

This is not about lowering your standards everywhere or deciding that the people you love deserve less from you. It is about recognizing that more effort is not automatically more love.

Sometimes good enough really is good enough. Sometimes the bakery cupcakes are exactly what your child wanted. Sometimes taking 10 minutes before you walk through the door allows you to be far more present once you do. Sometimes declining one invitation creates enough energy to enjoy the plans you decided to keep.

You are allowed to have limits with the people you love. In fact, those limits may help you bring more patience, attention, and genuine presence to your relationships.

This week, choose one place where you are giving more than was asked or more than you actually have available. Try the store-bought cupcake version and pay attention to what happens.

You may discover that the people you love never needed you to do everything. They needed enough of you left to actually be there.

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The information contained and documents referenced in the podcast “Your Priority Centered Life” are for entertainment, educational and informational purposes only, and are not intended as, and shall not be understood or construed as, professional medical or health treatment, diagnosis, or advice. We strongly encourage listeners to consult with medical providers or qualified mental health providers with issues and questions regarding any physical and/or mental health symptoms or concerns that they may have. Furthermore, the opinions and views expressed by podcast guests, partners and/or affiliates are not necessarily those of the podcast host. Dr. Alise Murray’s opinions and views are expressed in her individual capacity and are not to be construed as those of any of her podcast guests, partners and/or affiliates.