Mark: Here’s a wild thought: what if the single most dangerous word in your vocabulary isn't a curse word, but the word 'yes'? A single, misplaced 'yes' could be costing you more than just your time—it could be costing you your health. Michelle: That feels incredibly dramatic, but also… uncomfortably true. It’s that feeling when you say yes to something and your entire body just sinks. You know you’ve betrayed yourself. Mark: That exact feeling is the core argument in Natalie Lue's book, The Joy of Saying No. She argues that this isn't just about time management; it's about self-preservation. Michelle: And Lue isn't just a theorist. She's the founder of the hugely popular blog and podcast Baggage Reclaim and built her career on an 18-year journey of recovering from people-pleasing herself. This book is the culmination of that lived experience. Mark: Exactly. Her journey started with a life-threatening diagnosis where saying 'no' literally saved her. It’s a story that completely reframes what it means to be a people-pleaser.

Michelle: Okay, hold on. Saying 'no' saved her life? You have to start there. That sounds like the opposite of what you should do when you’re sick. Mark: It’s a powerful story. In 2005, after 18 months of tests for a mystery immune system disease called sarcoidosis, Natalie Lue was sitting in a lung clinic. She’d already been through a year of aggressive steroid treatments that failed. The disease was back, and a new lump had appeared in her neck. Michelle: That’s terrifying. At that point, you do whatever the doctor tells you. Mark: And that’s what she had been doing her whole life. She was the classic people-pleaser. But the consultant delivered a devastating blow. He told her the only option was lifelong steroid use, otherwise, she’d likely face pulmonary heart failure by age 40. Michelle: Wow. So, a life sentence of medication. Mark: Right. But in that moment, something shifted. Lue describes it as a sudden, profound realization: "no one was coming to save me." She had been so compliant, so focused on being a 'good patient,' that she had completely ignored her own intuition. So, she looked at the doctor, this figure of ultimate authority, and said no. She told him she wanted to explore alternative options and would come back in three months for a check-up. Michelle: She said no to a doctor about that? I would have been paralyzed with fear. What did he say? Mark: He was dismissive, of course. He insisted steroids were the only way. But she stood her ground. And here’s the incredible part: eight months later, after pursuing her own path of healing, she was in remission from what was considered an incurable disease. Michelle: That’s unbelievable. So her first real, high-stakes 'no' was the turning point for her health. Mark: It was the turning point for her entire life. And it proves her central thesis: people-pleasing isn't a personality trait. It’s a symptom of a deeper issue, a learned survival strategy. Lue calls the environment that creates this the "Age of Obedience." Many of us were raised to believe that being 'good' meant being compliant, quiet, and agreeable. Disobedience meant trouble. Michelle: I can definitely relate to that. You learn early on that making waves is not the way to get approval or affection. It’s easier to just go along with things. Mark: Exactly. But there's a physical cost. Lue tells another story about her acupuncturist, Silvio Andrade, who gave her this brilliant analogy. He said we all have a stress threshold. A little stress is fine, but chronic stress—like the kind you get from constantly suppressing your own needs to please others—pushes your body into a 'new normal.' You feel 'okay,' but your system is flooded with cortisol. You're running on empty. Michelle: That's the definition of modern burnout culture, isn't it? We're all walking around in this 'new normal' of exhaustion, thinking it's just how life is. Mark: Precisely. And people-pleasing is the fuel for that fire. Every time you say 'yes' when you mean 'no,' you're adding more stress to a system that's already overloaded. You're choosing someone else's comfort over your own well-being, and your body is keeping the score.

Michelle: Okay, so it's a bigger problem than just being 'too nice.' It’s a deep-seated pattern with real health consequences. But you mentioned it shows up in different ways. How do we spot it in ourselves and others? Mark: This is where the book gets really practical and, frankly, a little confronting. Lue identifies five distinct styles of people-pleasing. She calls them Gooding, Efforting, Avoiding, Saving, and Suffering. Michelle: It sounds like a cast of characters from a tragic play. Let's break them down. What's 'Gooding'? Mark: 'Gooding' is the reputation management style. It’s less about doing good and more about being seen as good. The Gooder’s self-worth is tied to their public image. They need to be the 'good employee,' the 'good friend,' the 'good daughter.' Their actions are all geared towards maintaining that perception. Michelle: So it’s performative goodness. I think we all know someone like that. What about 'Efforting'? I feel like I know that person intimately. Mark: Efforting is my personal favorite because it’s so widespread. The Efforter believes their value comes from their hard work and achievement. They use perfectionism and over-achievement to earn acceptance. They’re the ones who will stay late to finish a project nobody else cares about, just to prove they’re the hardest worker in the room. Michelle: Oh, I've been there. It's the belief that if you just try hard enough, you can control the outcome and make people approve of you. Mark: Exactly. And Lue has this perfect, devastating story to illustrate it. She talks about a woman named Angeline, who is stuck in a cycle of dating disappointment. She meets men on apps, ignores glaring red flags, and pours all her energy into the relationship, thinking her effort will magically make the non-committal guy want to commit. Michelle: And of course, it never works. He feels overwhelmed, she feels resentful and shortchanged. She thinks, "But I tried so hard!" Mark: Right. Her expectations are based on her effort, not on reality or self-respect. It's a recipe for burnout. The other three styles are just as insightful. 'Avoiding' is self-explanatory—they’ll do anything to sidestep conflict. 'Saving' is for those who feel their purpose is to rescue others, often creating codependent relationships. Michelle: I want to hear about the 'Saver.' That sounds noble on the surface. Mark: It does, but it’s a trap. Lue tells the story of Gaby, who spent her life caring for her family—babysitting for her sister, looking after her mother. She put her own career and relationships on hold. When Gaby herself got sick and needed bed rest, her family still expected her to be at their beck and call. They saw her 'help' not as a gift, but as her job. Michelle: That’s heartbreaking. She built her identity around being the helper, and when she needed help, no one was there. Mark: It forced her to realize she wasn't just giving; she was 'saving' to feel needed and valuable. And the final style, 'Suffering,' is perhaps the darkest. Sufferers use their own hardship to gain attention and feel worthy. They believe their pain makes them virtuous. Michelle: Wow. So one person tries to earn love through perfection, another tries to earn it by fixing everyone, and another earns it by being a martyr. They’re all different tactics for the same goal: seeking external validation because you don't feel worthy on your own. Mark: You've nailed it. And identifying your dominant style is the first step toward breaking the pattern. It’s not about labeling yourself, but about understanding the 'why' behind your 'yes.'

Michelle: This is all great for diagnosis, but what's the cure? How do we actually start saying no without feeling like a terrible, selfish person? It feels like trying to reverse a lifetime of programming. Mark: It is, and Lue acknowledges that. She says it's not a quick fix. The solution isn't just a set of scripts; it's deep, internal work. The most powerful concept she introduces is 'reparenting' yourself. Michelle: Reparenting? What does that mean, exactly? Mark: It means connecting with your inner child—that younger version of you who learned these people-pleasing patterns to survive. It’s about giving that child the love, care, and security they didn't get back then. People-pleasing is often a child's strategy stuck in an adult's body. Michelle: So you’re saying the reason I feel guilty saying no to a small request today is because my five-year-old self is scared of being rejected? Mark: That's a huge part of it. And Lue’s own story here is, again, so powerful. During that first session with Sonia, the kinesiologist, she was forced to confront painful childhood memories she had suppressed—feeling abandoned by her father in the hospital, feeling responsible for her parents' breakup. Sonia asked her a question that changed everything: "Is it fair to blame a two-and-a-half-year-old for all of that?" Michelle: Wow. Of course not. But we do it all the time. We carry that blame and shame for decades. Mark: And in that moment, Lue realized she had been blaming 'Little Nat' her whole life. Reparenting is about telling that inner child, "It wasn't your fault. You are safe now. I've got this." When you do that, you no longer need to seek safety from others by saying yes all the time. You can provide it for yourself. Michelle: That is such a profound shift in perspective. So setting a boundary today isn't an act of aggression. It's an act of compassion for your younger self. Mark: It's a form of forgiveness. You're forgiving yourself for not knowing how to do it sooner. Once you start that internal work, the external work gets easier. Lue offers practical tools, like what she calls the 'Broken Record' strategy for dealing with people who won't take no for an answer. Michelle: The Broken Record? I'm intrigued. Mark: It's simple but effective. You just calmly repeat your point without getting drawn into arguments or justifications. For example, if someone keeps pressuring you to go to an event, you don't list a dozen excuses. You just say, "I appreciate the invitation, but I won't be able to make it." They push back, "Oh, come on, it'll be fun!" You calmly repeat, "I understand, but I won't be able to make it." You just keep playing the same, calm, factual record. Michelle: That takes guts. It avoids the drama of a big fight but requires a lot of firmness. It’s about holding your ground without escalating. Mark: Exactly. It's a boundaried communication technique. It’s not harsh; it’s just clear. And clarity is kindness, both to yourself and to the other person.

Michelle: It’s amazing how a book about a two-letter word can unpack so much about our lives, our health, and our relationships. Mark: It really is. Ultimately, Lue's message is that every 'no' to something that drains you is a 'yes' to your own life. It’s not about rejection; it’s about redirection. It’s about reclaiming the energy you've been giving away and investing it back into yourself, your passions, and the relationships that are truly reciprocal. Michelle: I love that idea of redirection. You’re not closing a door; you’re opening a different one that leads somewhere better for you. It makes the act of saying no feel creative and hopeful, not negative. Mark: And it frees you from the impossible task of managing everyone else's feelings. You realize your job is to manage your own life with integrity. The book is a powerful reminder that your boundaries are what allow you to show up authentically in the world. Without them, you're just a performance. Michelle: So the question we should all ask ourselves this week is: what's one small 'no' I can say to reclaim a little bit of myself? It doesn't have to be a life-altering decision like the one Natalie Lue made in that doctor's office. Maybe it's just saying no to an extra task at work or a social event you're dreading. Mark: A perfect place to start. Let us know what you discover. Michelle: We’d love to hear your stories about finding the joy in your own 'no.' Mark: This is Aibrary, signing off.