Don't be a martyr – say NO to other people and say YES to yourself

“You are not required to set yourself on fire to keep others warm.”

I saw this quote on Instagram the other day and I actually cheered. I’ve been wanting to write a post about the power of saying NO for some time, and this quote sums up my thoughts perfectly. 

You know how safety announcements on planes tell you to attach your own oxygen mask before helping others with their masks? That’s because you can’t help other people if you have not been looking after yourself. In simpler, less alarming terms: you can’t give energy if your own tank is empty. 

A lot of people who seek reiki treatment have emotional imbalances because they’ve created energy blocks in their bodies through having a lack of boundaries in their lives.

So many of us – especially women, because we’re often socially conditioned to be people-pleasers – struggle to say the word NO to things that we don’t want to do because we think people won’t like us. We don’t like letting people down – so we say yes to every social event or request... and in doing so, we let ourselves down, because we end up stressed and on the path to burnout. We fear what other people will think of us if we say NO so we say yes, then we end up resentful about having no time to ourselves, and feel like we’re being taken advantage of. We also feel stupidly, irrationally guilty about saying NO. 

Just to clear this up: no is not a bad word. It is a very powerful tool for protecting and enriching your energy levels and emotional health. If you consistently say yes when you want to say no, others will expect you to drop everything to help them whenever they need to move house, organise their parents’ anniversary party or remove an ingrown hair – because they’re responding to your past behaviour. You can’t expect people to honour boundaries that you have failed to set. 

This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t help out your mates and spend time with your relatives and in-laws – but not at the expense of your own health and wellbeing. If you feel like someone might be taking the piss and you’re feeling resentful about it, they probably are. Set very clear parameters, eg: “Yes I’ll come to your sister-in-law’s baby shower with you but I’ll only stay an hour” or “I won’t be able to give you a lift to yoga on Saturday morning because I really need a sleep-in but I’ll meet you for a quick coffee next weekend” or “I’ll look after your kids for two hours if you’ll pick mine up from school when I have a doctor’s appointment”.

You do not have to be a martyr in order to have close friendships or loving relationships. In fact, people will respect you more if you do set boundaries. If they don’t... maybe you need to ask yourself how much of a presence you want them to have in your life. 

The most important thing you need to know when it comes to boundaries is that saying yes to everyone does not make you popular or loved – it makes you a doormat. Set boundaries... before you set yourself on fire. 

PS I’ve just posted the quote at the top of this page on my Instagram – if it takes your fancy, visit my feed at @onegroundedangel and regram it. 

Why (and how) rejection hurts. And learning not to fear that pain

Hands up everyone who isn't afraid of rejection! 

Oh, nobody? I thought so.

The first thing that pops into my mind when I think of rejection is a memory of being the last one picked for sports teams at school, Freaks and Geeks style. Bring out the violins.

But rejection happens in adulthood too, and it's not only destructive on an emotional level, it has an impact on your physical health.


In his book Emotional First Aid, psychologist Guy Winch writes that rejection is such a strong emotion that the body experiences it like physical pain. Remember, for example, what it feels like to be dumped: "You might have felt pressure suffocating you, had trouble breathing or had jabbing pain like a sharp knife," Guy writes. (BTW, Guy's TED talk on emotional first aid is moving and insightful, if you're interested.)

This shows how intensely rejection can affect us. But it isn't a connection with physical pain that makes me as afraid of being rejected now as I was in my childhood. The reason fear of rejection stalks me today is all about self-protection.

My worst experience of rejection in adulthood was in 2013 when my then-best friend squeezed me out of the close-knit circle of friends I'd had since my university days. I had no choice but to walk away, but the cost was high. No more sun-loving barbecue invitations. No more giggly brunches. No more daily email banter. Suddenly lonely evenings and weekends stretched out before me like a vast wasteland. My phone never rang. I'm sure my friends had their reasons - there are always two sides to the story - and it would be remiss of me not to admit that I was not a great friend to them either. Knowing that we were moving in different directions, and would have drifted apart anyway, didn't ease my despair - it was the slap of being rejected that hurt. Essentially, my worthiness as a friend and as a human being had been assessed by people who knew me incredibly well, and judged to be inadequate. The message: I am not good enough. The effects on my already-low self-esteem were catastrophic.

I wrapped my wings around my fractured heart and retreated into isolation. I stopped talking to people. I was cold to people who tried to connect with me. I stopped attending the few social events from other connections that came up. These were not conscious actions; they were the response to an unconscious belief playing in the background. This belief told me not to get close to anyone because I could not face the chances - which I believed to be high - of being rejected again. 

I'd love to tell you that this fear disappeared but it is more accurate to say it has only lessened slightly. After moving to a new city I have found myself in a great social circle of warm and wonderful people - yay! - but it has been difficult to learn to let people in. I have several confidantes, but I am careful not to lean on anyone too much. I don't have a best friend and I don't want one - that's way too risky.

Obviously there are a bunch of other self-esteem issues going on here too, which I've had for decades and have chronicled in other posts (like this one), as well as my natural (and entirely healthy) tendency towards introversion. But fear of rejection is almost certainly a factor in my reluctance to build deep relationships, both platonic and otherwise. 

Is this really a problem, though? I mean, it's keeping me safe, so that's useful. Is a fear of rejection even a thing that needs fixing? I've thought about this a lot, and my answer is yes and no. The thing is, fear never goes away. You can mute it but it will still be there, shapeshifting into another form (such as fear of failure). 

So I can't fix it. But I can change the way I respond to it. I can find new ways to arrest these thoughts when they appear before me, masquerading as my reality. I can go badass detective on the messages I send myself, and subject them to interrogation to determine their validity, instead of simply following their well-intended but ultimately self-limiting directives. I can push back on the thoughts that tell me the risk of letting down some of my barriers and simply being myself in my interactions with others is too great, and would lead to rejection. 

Of course, I don't *have* to do any of these things. 

But. 

If I don't, I'm essentially telling myself that I'm not good enough - which is the very message this fear is trying to protect me from receiving from others. By allowing myself to risk being rejected, I'm backing myself and saying I am worthy of being accepted, and that I'm resilient enough to deal with the consequences of possible rejection. In doing so, I'm accepting myself, which may not diminish my fear of rejection any but it seems like a pretty good start. 

Why music is so important to me

I’ve been writing about some fairly heavy topics lately (grief and fear, etc) so I thought I’d lighten up the blog a little by talking about a subject I could riff on for hours: music – something we all need more of in our lives. Turns out our ear holes have a direct line to our emotions. So listening to music not only drowns out your colleague’s whiny voice, science says it also improves your emotional health. Unless you’re listening to Nickelback, which has given no benefits to anyone, ever.

US researchers have discovered that music affects deep emotional centres in the brain – so that high you feel when you hear TLC’s No Scrubs is legit joy (oh, just me then?). In a McGill University study, participants’ brains were monitored as they listened to songs they’d identified as special to them. Researchers found dopamine was released in participants’ brains when they listened to those tunes. Dopamine’s the hormone associated with rewards – FYI it surges during eating and sex (yay and yay), and with drugs such as amphetamines (not so yay).

The dopamine release happens not only because we are enjoying the song but because we have a memory of having enjoyed that song in the past embedded in our brain, and we anticipate the high points that are coming. 

Science. It’s all smart and shit.

The reason I enjoyed reading about this study was it not only validated my experience of how music has lifted me when I’ve been feeling flat and motivated me to run faster on the treadmill but because it prompted me to consider the ways music has underpinned some of my best and worst memories. The way it transports me back to a particular time and place, and accentuates key connections. Because, as a cheesy ad slogan once declared, life deserves a soundtrack.

*      Good memory – Hey Jude by The Beatles. When I was a little kid, my dad would sing this to me, replacing it with ‘Hey Truds’. For years I was convinced it was a song he’d written just for me, and was bitterly disappointed when I learned the actual lyrics, which my father had purposely botched. (Fuck you, Jude, whoever you are.) The song doesn’t necessarily make me think of my dad, but it is associated with the warm glow of childhood and feeling wholly loved and protected.

*      Bad memory – Steal my Kisses by Ben Harper. This song was special to a workmate of mine and her boyfriend, so it was played at her funeral. Even though she died 15 years ago I still cannot listen to this song. To me, it is inextricably linked with unbearable sadness and the loss of love.

*        Random memory – Freedom by George Michael. Five years ago I was in a taxi with a good friend, and this song was playing on the radio. Without talking about it or thinking about it we interrupted our conversation to simultaneously belt out the line: “SOMETIMES THE CLOTHES DO NOT MAKE THE MAN!” It was that delicious realisation that you’re perfectly in sync with someone, just for a moment, and knowing you’ve just forged a shared memory. The poor taxi driver did not enjoy it so much; he got such a fright he almost drove off the road. Sometimes my friend will text me that lyric out of the blue and it makes me laugh every time.

Maybe this post has reminded you of the good, bad and odd memories that come flooding back when you hear certain songs. Seems like a good reason to turn up the volume, right?

Random but related: after I wrote this post, I did my daily angel card pull (I do one for myself before I draw a card for you guys every day): I got the ‘play music’ card. If that’s not spiritual validation, I don’t know what is.