The Cost of Being Easy to Reach

I used to think being available all the time made me a good person. If someone needed something and I could give it, I gave it. Didn’t matter what time it was, what I had going on, whether I actually had the bandwidth. I just said yes and figured out the rest later.

For a long time I called that being reliable. Being the person people could count on. I liked being that person. There’s a version of pride that comes from being needed, and I was living inside it without noticing.

What I didn’t notice, for way too long, was how tired I was becoming. Not tired like I needed a nap. Tired like something underneath me had been slowly wearing down for years and I hadn’t checked on it once.

I think the hardest part wasn’t saying yes so much. It was that I never asked myself if I wanted to. Somebody would ask, and my answer was already decided before the question finished. There wasn’t a pause where I actually checked in with myself. The yes was automatic, like a reflex, not a choice.

The first time I said no to something small, it didn’t feel like relief. It felt like I’d done something wrong. Like I was going to have to explain myself. Defend it. Prove I still deserved to be trusted even though I’d turned something down. Nobody actually demanded that explanation. I just assumed I owed one.

I’m still learning the difference between being generous and being unable to say no. They can look identical from the outside. Only I know which one it actually is in the moment.

I don’t think the answer is to stop being there for people. I still want to be someone people can lean on. I just don’t want it to cost me everything underneath, quietly, without me noticing until I’m running on nothing.

Some days I still say yes too fast. Old habits don’t leave just because you finally saw them clearly. But I notice it now. That’s different than before. Before, I didn’t even know there was something to notice.