“Daring to set boundaries is about having the courage to love ourselves, even when we risk disappointing others.” ~Brené Brown
I used to believe that if someone was in need and I had the ability to help, it was my duty to step in. Whether it was managing caregiving responsibilities for family, fielding crisis calls from friends, or stepping up at work when no one else would, I said yes without hesitation. For me, helping seemed to be the measure of a “good person.”
But what I didn’t realize is that many of us confuse obligation with responsibility.
Obligation feels like it’s inherently ours to do, regardless of choice. Responsibility feels like something we voluntarily take on—sometimes because of what we believe is expected or what others have convinced us is ours to carry. The distinction between the two is subtle, but the effects of misunderstanding them are profound.
The truth is, we’re taught early on that helping others is the right thing to do. And for women, in particular, the world emphasizes that stepping up for others is what defines us as strong, capable, and valuable. So I did. I said yes to nearly every pull on my time, energy, and peace—until my body stopped me.
The Wake-Up Call: The Day My Body Stopped Me
You don’t realize how much you’ve given—how much you’ve carried—until your body asks you to stop.
For me, that wake-up call came in the form of an ulcer. At the time, I couldn’t fathom why my body was failing me. I ate healthily, exercised, and generally lived a balanced lifestyle—or so I thought.
But what I hadn’t realized—what so many of us fail to see—is that ulcers, burnout, and other stress-related conditions don’t come from what we eat. They come from what’s eating away at us.
What had been quietly eating away at me were all the pulls on my time and spirit, pulls I had allowed to continue because of my inability to recognize the damage and deliver an emphatic no. Caregiving, crisis management, being the go-to problem solver—these were the things that slowly consumed me as I ignored the whispers of my body and spirit, telling me to pause.
The ulcer wasn’t just a physical issue—it was a wake-up call. It forced me to confront the weight of my yeses and how they came at the cost of my peace and wellbeing.
The Power of the Pause: How I Learned to Reassess My Yes
Healing took time, and it wasn’t just about recovering physically. It was about rebuilding my habits and, more importantly, my mindset.
I began to understand that every pull on my energy—a friend’s distress signal, a family member’s caregiving need, or even an opportunity at work—wasn’t necessarily mine to answer. I needed to stop operating on autopilot and start responding with awareness. I called this practice the pause.
Before I gave my yes, I learned to pause and ask myself:
- Is this truly mine to do?
- What will this cost me in time, energy, and peace?
- What is motivating me to say yes—guilt, duty, or an honest desire to help?
The pause gave me clarity. Sometimes, the answer was obvious:
- “I’ll think about it and let you know.”
- “I can help with this part, but I won’t be able to take on the rest.”
- “No, I can’t. You should ask around to find someone else.”
Other times, the pause forced me to confront patterns I’d ignored—like over-helping to avoid discomfort or defaulting to yes because I thought no would disappoint someone. Each time I paused, I learned something new about why I was saying yes, and each answer helped me protect my energy more thoughtfully.
The Pull of Expectations: How Societal Conditioning Shapes Our Yes
One of the hardest parts of reassessing my yeses was confronting the power of societal expectations.
Helping others is often framed as the ultimate virtue—that “good people” step up, solve problems, and make sacrifices when others can’t or won’t. For women, this idea takes on an even sharper edge. We’re taught that caregiving and emotional labor come naturally to us, that putting others first is what makes us valuable.
The world celebrates women who “do it all,” often without asking what it’s costing them.
As I reflected on my incessant yeses, I realized how much of this cultural messaging I’d internalized.
I thought of my younger self, watching the women in my life extend themselves without pause—my mother, my grandmother, my mentors. They juggled caregiving, work, and family without ever asking whether it was sustainable. I thought of the messages I’d absorbed as a child, like the idea that refusing to help when you’re able is selfish, or that good people sacrifice no matter the cost.
These beliefs shaped how I approached every ask. It wasn’t guilt that pulled me toward yes—it was the weight of these expectations, handed down through generations without question.
But here’s what I’ve learned: these expectations might shape us, but they don’t have to define us. Balance isn’t selfish—it’s necessary. Redefining responsibility isn’t about rejecting others but about making sure the cycle of overextension stops with us.
Reassessing and Reconnecting: How Thoughtful Yeses Changed Everything
Pausing didn’t just help me recover physically—it reconnected me to what mattered most.
By becoming intentional about my yeses, I was able to show up fully for the people I love without losing myself in the process. Instead of saying yes to everything, I started saying yes to what aligned with my values, what honored my peace, and what made my energy sustainable.
Thoughtful yeses gave me something I hadn’t had in years—balance. And with that balance came clarity, purpose, and freedom. I let go of obligations that weren’t truly mine, found strength in saying no, and started living in a way that felt authentic rather than automatic.
It wasn’t just my time and energy that transformed—it was me.
Closing Reflection: Your Own Litmus Test for Balance
If you’ve ever felt the pull to say yes without pause, I want to encourage you to stop—just for a moment. Ask yourself:
- Is this truly mine to do?
- What will saying yes cost me?
- What is motivating this choice, and does it align with what I value most?
We’re often told that saying yes is the ultimate virtue. But the truth is, balance is the measure of alignment. It’s not about doing everything; it’s about doing what truly serves both who you are and what the situation requires.
With every pause, you ask the most important question of all: Does this honor the person I’m becoming? And from that space of clarity, your yes—when you give it—becomes not just an answer but a gift.
About Carol Stokes
Carol L. Stokes is a life coach helping women over fifty navigate caregiving, boundaries, and personal transformation. A former attorney turned coach, her mission is to empower women to create balance, rediscover themselves, and align with their values. You can connect with her at https://www.CarolLStokes.com and on LinkedIn here.
