I’m officially on the “Sorry, can’t, I’m busy…” train. And guess what?
My body has decided this is excellent news. Finally. She’s put down her protest signs(mostly), stopped whispering “betrayal” every time I double-book myself, and is now gently tapping her foot like, “Okay, but don’t test me.”
Yes-it is: When “Sure, I can!” is a Reflex My Stomach Hates
Some people catch colds. I catch guilt.
It’s not airborne, it’s inherited, conditioned, and reinforced by every polite smile and school award for “most helpful.”
My signature move? Saying “yes” to everything until my body throws a diva fit complete with migraines, sleepless nights, and dramatic stomach growls during silent meetings.
Apparently, “good-girl syndrome” isn’t merely a mindset, its a muscle memory of obedience.
It shows up like a relentless game of peekaboo, each symptom stranger than the last, bloating, headaches, insomnia, sudden urge to cry while microwaving oatmeal.
So much for “thriving in my forties”, my cortisol levels are doing CrossFit.
Now, my To-Do list looks like this: Banish guilt, delegate unnecessary PTA requests and call my body back from her field trip to“Chronic Exhaustion”
Why My “No Muscle” Went on Vacation
Where did it go? Why is saying “NO” harder than choosing a Netflix show?
It turns out my No Muscle is very, very out of shape.
Here’s what’s been weakening it.
Fear of conflict or rejection: Thank you, inner child, for reminding me that disappointing people = certain doom.
Why? Because somewhere, when the room gets tense, my conditioning is that women magically morph into Switzerland always the queens of “Rejection Sensitivity syndrome” and podium winners in “Conflict Avoidance Gymnastics.”
Chronic self-worth outsourcing.
People-pleasing: Which sounds like a nice thing… until you’re seething inside while getting nominated by all mom’s group to take all the teens to a movie trip as I was the only one who “worked from home”. Just for the record, managing the bunch of hormonal and energetic teenagers alone for those 6 hours was like choreographing an orchestra where the teens were like entitled musicians who only hear their own instrument and I’m waving my imaginary “baton” in hope for some harmony.
Plot Twist: My “No” Is Learning to Sizzle
So from now on, I’ve started saying “NO,” and guess what?, the world did not spontaneously combust.
Sure, my “NO” started weak, more like a whisper carried away by a light breeze, but she’s gaining sass by the day.
Behold the contents of my tiny “NO” toolkit.
I am learning, sometimes, the most powerful tool in setting boundaries is a simple phrase: “Let me think about it…” This small pause isn’t indecision, it’s a strategic moment to gather your energy, strengthen your boundaries, and maybe sneak in a snack or check your horoscope. It buys time and creates space between you and the automatic yes.
Saying no to the second favour of the day isn’t selfish, it’s self-preservation. There’s only so much energy in the tank, and sometimes that reserve is better spent on basic essentials, like showering or feeding yourself, rather than stretching yourself thin.
I even said “NO” to a group WhatsApp message asking for “one tiny cake” for a work event. One tiny cake = two hours of unpaid labor, emotional fatigue, and a frosting-induced wrist cramp. No, thanks. I sent a GIF instead.
The digital “Do Not Disturb” function is more than just a phone setting, it’s a declaration. It gently reminds the world (and maybe even yourself) that from 7 to 9 PM, your needs come first. The gentle reminder we all need, that you can love your people, but you’re also allowed to love yourself just a little more in that window.
Then, my favourite, journaling, without the pressure of grammar or perfection, is a form of emotional exfoliation. It clears mental
clutter, uncovers hidden feelings, and can be wildly cathartic, even if what comes out is occasionally a little messy or unexpected.
Optimistic Outlook: The Health Plan I Wrote on a Cake Napkin
This one came to me during a late-night sugar binge(whole box of mini strawberry Oreos).
Here’s what my new mantra sounds like,
Body first: If my liver so much as hiccups, I’m listening.
Small “nos”: Saying “NO” to “quick favours” that are neither quick nor a favour.
Real self-care: Not the Instagram kind. The “go to bed by 9:30pm ” kind.
Saying no with kindness: “Thanks, but not this time” is my new go-to.
Because when you stop saying “yes” to everyone else, you finally hear your own voice.
Final Note (from Me, andMy Now Chill Stomach)
No, I’m not becoming a hermit but I am protecting my body, my time, my joy, and my weekend mornings.
I’m reclaiming energy for things that matter.
2025 is the year I am finally learning to say “no” like it’s an art form. Maybe even a performance piece.
Because “no” isn’t rude. It’s radical self-respect.
Not the mumbled maybe-later-we’ll-see kind, but the crisp, fearless “NO” that once made my stomach knot and my palms sweat.
The “NO” that means I’ve stopped renting out space in my life to things, people, and obligations. Despite my condition, despite the good-girl wiring that still twitches at the thought of disappointing someone, every “NO” I speak is now an act of rebellion, self-preservation, and grace.
It’s the bravest thing I do now, sometimes in flats, sometimes limping, always with a steady gaze and because of those “NOs”, those tiny, unapologetic doors I close, I am consciously making room for the yes’es that matter.
Which is why, even on my wobbliest days, I am still, and will always be, “The Luckiest Girl On The Planet.”
Dear Body, Sorry for the Guilt
Indulge me as I unpack gently into this long over due open letter to myself, “Dear Body, long-suffering co-pilot in this grand, over-eager life, I owe you an apology sharper than my thousand well-intentioned “yes-es.”
You’ve been a saint, ignoring migraines, bracing chaos in shoulders bent under other people’s expectations.
While you whined to me at midnight, stomach in knots, heart whispering “rest”, I kept firing off yes’es like confetti. You, deserve better than my compulsive people-pleasing.
I’m sorry for every time I mistook your fatigue for weakness, I’m sorry for brushing off your quiet hold-on-to-me signals, pretending “I got this” even when the mirror winked back exhaustion.
But here’s the promise: no more collateral damage under the guise of kindness. Here’s to learning how to say “not today,” to give you rest, permission, and the chocolate (dark and dairy-free).
Thank you for keeping me upright long after my brain ran out of bandwidth. From this moment, I’ll speak to you in softer words,
hold you with kinder plans.
Dear Body, I’m sorry and I’m listening now. And so, thank you for finally teaching me to say “NO.”
About the Author
Ancy James is a former television producer who, after a fulfilling 17-year career, chose to step away from the relentless pursuit of output and certainty in favour of retiring from corporate life at age 37 to a slower and more intentional life. In what she calls her act of quiet rebellion, her toddler’s health scare ensured she followed through on this decision and she traded deadlines and huge pay packets for meaningful quiet personal life. Now over 10 years later, She truly believes that our identity isn’t something we prove, it’s something we shape with the decisions we take daily for our loved ones. She now keeps herself busy as an internationally trained Cake Artist and Chef Trainer with a culinary diploma and runs a FSSAI approved business “Ancy’s Sugar Art Academy, in Bengaluru, India. She discovered marathon running in her journey to reversing her bone health diagnosis at age 42. When she is not customising cakes or running, she is busy reading books across the spectrum or spend hours pouring her heart out in these personal memoirs. Through her weekly personal memoirs, she shares raw, honest reflections on grief, resilience, motherhood, midlife reinvention, and the quiet beauty found in overlooked corners of everyday life. At 48, Ancy writes not to impress, but to connect, believing that vulnerability is the birthplace of both healing and growth. In a fast and AI driven world she believes these memoirs are an honest attempt to stay real and relevant as a female writer who is a 100 percent invested in her journey of “Becoming”.