Honoring No-Vember
Only 42 years after it’s developmentally appropriate, I’ve just recently started saying “No.”
Yes, I did recently publish an essay called “No Period” about learning to respect the inner “No.”
But it turns out that, for me, honoring an inner “No” is a whole different beast from actually saying it…
…you know, out loud…
…to a real person.
Of course I’ve said “No” before. But usually I say it with this helpless forgive-me-face, in a pleading don’t-hate-me-voice, couched in a string of explanations, disclaimers, and compensations:
- “It’s a no, only because…”
- “It’s a no, but just for now, at least.”
- “It might change but…”
- “I’m so sorry but …”
- “Maybe next time we could…”
How did I finally reach the maturity level of a 2-year-old?
This week, someone asked me for something and the answer was “No.”
Why? Because my answer was “No.”
You know the experience of trying on a new pair of pants, taking one look in the mirror, and thinking: “No.”
It was like that: No. Crystal clear. No adornments needed. In fact anything extra would have clouded the message, opened the door, and dare I say it: degraded my self-respect.
I had time to prepare to say this particular “No.”
During that time, my mind obsessively practiced arguments, defenses, explanations, justifications.
My body practiced boundary-energy. Sometimes I puffed myself up. Sometimes I felt hard. Sometimes I was inflamed and sometimes I was ice cold.
When the time finally came to say “No” my body was quivering; my stomach tight, my breath shallow. I kept reminding myself to “drop into my heart, drop into my heart, drop into my heart.”
You guys, I was so scared.
Why was it so hard just to tell the truth? Why was I so terrified to express myself honestly?
After I said “No” and the phone call was over, I found out.
My “No” had triggered feelings in the other person. I heard sadness, which was the first hard thing. I was filled with guilt. “Couldn’t I just compromise (myself) to make the other person happy? To preserve the peace? To be liked?”
I could. But I’ve done that a million times before and what may look like peace on the outside, is war on the inside.
I feel resentful. I feel used. I pull away even though I was the one to compromise. I may avoid conflict in the short term, but lies erode relationships.
The second hard thing was that I was afraid the other person’s sadness would blossom into anger and that anger would become rejection, retaliation, defamation, or all of the above.
To say “No” is to let go of trying to control the other person’s reaction.
Clarity puts the ball in the other person’s court. They can rage. They can hate. They can leave. They can attack. When I said “No” I gave up trying to be liked. I gave up manipulation.
When I said what I had to say, I wanted to throw up. I wanted to shake. I wanted to take it back (not really, but I was scared).
My feelings and fears were not really about this situation. Life just did what life does and brought me the perfect circumstance to discover long-held limiting beliefs:
- “If I’m myself, I won’t be loved.”
- “If I tell the truth about myself, I’ll be left, judged, pressured, or worse.”
- “Better to contort. Better to conform. Better to compromise. Better to lie.”
I haven’t explored how these beliefs got formed. I may or may not do that.
What I have been doing is challenging these beliefs with new data. Saying “No” is uncomfortable, but is it really so dangerous?
Life, in its infinite kindness, has now given me several more opportunities to say “No” this week.
So far, it’s getting easier. I still feel sick, but I’m getting used to the nausea. I’m still scared, but I’ve somehow become more interested in reclaiming my dignity, my power, and my self-respect, than I am in leaking my life-force through compromise.
Turns out this is perfect timing, because “No-vember” is here. What better time to lock in this skill?
So here’s a question: Do you want to say “No” with me?
If you have a difficult “No” to say to someone, and you say it this month, I invite you to write to me and tell me about it.
Let me witness you in your courage. When we are shaky, let us link arms and hold each other up, like our (quality of) life depends on it. Because it does.
Breathwork Journeys are a great place to face anger, feel grief, gain clarity, and access personal power.
Join me at one of the upcoming events:
- Virtual: Saturday, November 15, 1:00-2:15pm ET
- Virtual: Wednesday, December 17, 7:00-8:15pm ET
- In-Person [Vermont]: Friday, November 21, 6:30-8:30pm ET