People-Pleasing, the Nervous System, and the Quiet Cost of “Yes”
It starts the same way almost every time.
A client sinks into the couch, exhales like they’ve been holding their breath for decades, and says some version of:
“I’m so tired. I don’t even know who I am anymore. I take care of everyone else, I say yes when I want to say no, and then I feel resentful—but I can’t stop.”
She laughs a little, embarrassed, and adds:
“It’s like I’m allergic to disappointing people.”
On the outside, she looks put-together. She’s the one who remembers the birthdays, volunteers for the extra project at work, drops everything when her mom calls. But inside? She feels invisible. Every “yes” adds weight, and every “no” feels dangerous.
That’s not a quirky personality type.
That’s survival.
Where People-Pleasing Comes From
We don’t just wake up one morning and decide to erase our own needs. People-pleasing is learned.
Sometimes in families where love felt conditional.
Sometimes in cultures that reward self-sacrifice and punish boundaries.
Sometimes in systems where safety depends on keeping the peace.
Maybe you were the helper—the one who soothed anger, kept the peace, made life easier for everyone else. Maybe you learned that your worth came from being “good,” “helpful,” or “easy to love.”
For women, BIPOC folks, or first-gen kids, the message is louder: don’t be difficult, don’t take up too much space, don’t say no.
Therapists often call this a fawn response—the lesser-known cousin of fight, flight, and freeze. Fawning means appeasing others to stay safe. It might look like over-apologizing, always saying yes, or smoothing things over at any cost.
How Pop Culture Shows Us People-Pleasing
Pop culture has a way of naming our struggles before we find the words ourselves. During my maternity leave (five months postpartum as I write this), I binged a handful of series, and three characters in particular stood out. Each one reveals a different face of people-pleasing—faces I also see reflected every week in the therapy room.
The What I Like To Call The “Cute-Sweet” Version (Janine Teagues, Abbott Elementary)
Janine is the poster child for well-meaning people-pleasing. She’s bubbly, optimistic, endlessly helpful. The kind of person who volunteers for everything because she wants to fix it all. She’s lovable because of her energy, but we also see how that constant caretaking burns her out and keeps her from facing her own needs.
This “cute-sweet” people-pleasing often gets praised: you’re the reliable one, the helpful one, the glue that holds everything together. But underneath the smile, it’s exhausting. It looks benign, even charming, but it still costs you pieces of yourself.
The Heavy-Duty Version (Charlotte York, And Just Like That)
Charlotte’s people-pleasing isn’t bubbly—it’s relentless! She throws herself into being the “perfect mom,” the “perfect wife,” the “perfect friend.” Her drive to meet everyone’s needs is polished and socially rewarded, but it comes at the expense of her own authenticity.
This version is insidious because it looks like achievement. People admire it, even envy it. But underneath is a gnawing resentment, a sense that no matter how much you do, it’s never enough. It’s the gold-star form of people-pleasing: shiny on the outside, depleting on the inside.
The Self-Erasing Version (Serena Joy, The Handmaid’s Tale):
At its darkest, people-pleasing isn’t about being “nice.” It’s about survival through submission. A submission so thorough that you erase yourself in the process.
Serena Joy embodies this version. Once a powerful advocate for the regime, she becomes a prisoner of it, bending so far to patriarchal demands that she nearly disappears. Every choice to appease the system—to keep peace, avoid punishment, or maintain proximity to power—chips away at her autonomy until what’s left is a hollow figure clinging to scraps of control.
This is the insidious side of people-pleasing: it doesn’t always look “sweet” or “selfless.” Sometimes it looks complicit. Sometimes it looks like smiling through injustice, shrinking yourself to stay safe, or silencing your needs until you forget what they even were.
It’s people-pleasing as self-betrayal. A strategy that once offered survival, now weaponized against the self.
If You Identified With Any of These Versions…
Stories stick because they echo something in us. If you found yourself nodding along with Janine, Charlotte, or Serena Joy, it’s not random. It’s resonance.
If you identified with Janine’s “cute-sweet” people-pleasing…
Then it’s likely you grew up in a family or community where being cheerful and helpful was rewarded. Maybe you became the peace-keeper, the one who lightened the mood, the one who could be counted on to say yes. In those conditions, you learned that being “good” kept you safe and connected. The result? You became the fixer, the helper. Loved for what you did, not for who you were.
If you identified with Charlotte’s “heavy-duty” people-pleasing…
Then it’s likely that perfectionism threaded through your upbringing or that you existed in systems (school, work, culture) where achievement equaled worth. Maybe you were the model child, the first-gen kid carrying a family’s hopes, or the one praised for composure and reliability. In those conditions, you learned to chase gold stars and external approval. The result? You became polished, put-together, and secretly exhausted.
If you identified with Serena Joy’s “self-erasing” people-pleasing…
Then it’s likely you’ve lived in environments where silence and compliance were survival. Maybe patriarchal, authoritarian, or abusive structures made dissent dangerous. In those conditions, you learned that disappearing parts of yourself was the only way to stay safe. The result? You may find yourself disconnected from your needs, your voice, even your sense of identity—wondering if you’re more shadow than self.
Each of these reflects something true: that people-pleasing was once protective. It wasn’t weakness. It was strategy. But strategies that keep us safe in childhood can quietly wound us in adulthood.
What It Costs You
The trouble with people-pleasing is that it works—until it doesn’t.
It keeps relationships stable—but at the expense of your own needs.
It avoids conflict—but leaves you silently resentful.
It helps you feel useful—but disconnects you from who you really are.
Clients often hit a breaking point: burned out, irritable, guilty for even being tired. They ask, “Why is it so hard to stop?” The answer: your nervous system believes saying yes keeps you safe.
The Role of Therapy
Therapy isn’t about snapping your fingers and suddenly saying no. It’s about understanding why saying yes feels automatic.
We might explore:
Who taught you that love had to be earned?
When did saying no start to feel unsafe?
What happens in your body when you try to prioritize yourself?
Using approaches like IFS, ACT, and Mind-Body Bridging, we begin to notice—not judge—the parts of you that fawn. That part isn’t bad. It’s protective. But it’s exhausted. Therapy helps it learn you can be safe and loved—even when you stop over-functioning.
What Healing Looks Like
Healing from people-pleasing isn’t about becoming selfish. It’s about balance—where your needs matter as much as anyone else’s.
That might look like:
Saying “no” without apologizing.
Expressing a need without shame.
Allowing yourself to rest, even when things feel unfinished.
It’s slow, deliberate work. We honor how people-pleasing kept you safe while gently building new ways of relating to yourself and others.
The Part of You That’s Ready for Change
Every client has a moment when they whisper: “I just can’t do this anymore.”
That’s not defeat—it’s the voice of your truest self asking for space. Therapy helps that part grow louder, steadier, and more confident.
Because you don’t have to keep earning your worth. You are already enough.
A Space to Be Seen
If this resonates, I’d love to connect. Therapy is not about pathologizing you—it’s about honoring the survival strategies that kept you alive while helping you write a new story.
If you’re in Utah and you’re ready to explore what life could look like without people-pleasing running the show, reach out for a free consultation. No pressure, no judgment—just a conversation about building a life where you feel connected and free.
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