You’re nice to everyone. You’re not always kind to yourself.
What people pleasing might look like
People pleasing is the art of niceness. For some that’s saying what the other wants to hear. For others, that’s doing what the other wants them to do. People pleasing avoids arguments, conflicts, disappointment too. It’s an invitation towards perfectionism, though at times it feels like insistence.
But in doing all of that, in being agreeable, always there for people, perfect, you cannot be human. Because to be human is to make mistakes, to let people down, to be messy.
People pleasing is the art of niceness. And it’s the science of sanding down, the ruthless erasing of your edges, the things that make you difficult, spiky. The things that make you, you.
Where you learned people pleasing
You might not know when it started. Perhaps one of your siblings was a rebel and you had to be good. Perhaps a parent, or parents, needed someone to look after them and you took on the role, even though you were still so young. Or perhaps when you were sad or upset or angry, your parents dismissed you, punished you, or worse. You learned that at home, you had a role to play, and you played it without complaint.
In the quieter moments, you might have wondered if your parents’ unconditional love came with caveats.
And, I’m wondering if that carried over into school. Or maybe that’s when it started. Perhaps school was threatening, or at least it felt like it. You learned that popularity, or at least being liked, could protect you. Perhaps you did what you were told by the teachers, or the students. Perhaps you were the class clown. Either way, you had to get the approval of your teachers and peers. Your survival depended on it.
What it looks like now
And now as an adult, you can’t seem to stop. You don’t quite know where you end and someone else begins. You have lost yourself. I call this self-abandonment. A friend suggests Thai for dinner and you say yes, even though you don’t like it. You’re always going to their house, they never come to yours. You can’t stop taking on more at work. You can’t prioritise yourself if someone else needs you. You must be exhausted.
People pleasing in your relationships
Nowhere does this show up more than in your closest relationships. Sometimes, not always, you don’t feel like an equal.
Perhaps you’re always available for your partner. You keep your evenings free for them, even if they don’t always do the same for you. You cancel your plans if your partner is home alone. Your partner never gets to experience your ‘sorry I’m busy’. Arguments always seem to end up with you apologising.
Or, maybe you’re always a shoulder to cry on. If they are upset, you are always looking at what you might have done; what you need to do differently next time. You always listen. But when you are upset, perhaps you are not always given the same courtesy.
The scripts we act in our relationships can take on gendered lines too. Perhaps you are expected to nurture and care even though that might not always be you, all the time. Perhaps you cannot express anger, or even an opinion, before you are labelled dominant or aggressive.
When people pleasing becomes survival
And sometimes, this dynamic — the tendency towards smallness and walking on eggshells — can get taken further. Sometimes, you feel hollowed out. You feel like any instinct to assert yourself, to show up, is met with increasing hostility, sometimes violence. If you have experienced that, the shadow it casts can be long. If you have experienced that, I am sorry. I do not yet know you. But I know that you did not deserve that.
So, breathe.
I cannot change your partner’s behaviour, or what you went through all those years ago. But together, we can get to know you. I want to know what you like and what you don’t like. And I want you to tell me when I get it wrong, although that might be hard at the beginning. It might be impossible. Together we can map out who you are. Where you begin and end. I don’t know you, but I know that you’ll have edges, and I’d like to find out where those are.
Human beings are social creatures. We are hurt and healed in relationships, so together we will explore what this looks like for you. You might begin to notice patterns and themes. You might spot how your partners share some characteristics, and what those are. We might begin to spot why you might be attracted to them too.
What happens between us
And of course, there is our relationship. You and me. This will differ from your other relationships. But the gift is that I won’t walk away. You can say what you need to say to me. We can really unpick what might be going on between us, safely in the knowledge that whatever we say will not be the end. And in understanding what is happening between us, we might also see what is happening elsewhere.
Perhaps then, it feels safer to make some changes. It’s time to stop hiding.
The practical bits
The room is at 231 Shoreditch High Street, London E1 6PJ — in Shoreditch, in the London Borough of Hackney. Shoreditch High Street station is a two-minute walk and Liverpool Street about ten. We can also meet online.
Sessions are £80 for 50 minutes, usually weekly. The first step is a free 15‑minute call — no obligation, just a chance to get a sense of each other.
What you share in sessions stays between us. Like all therapists, I have some obligations which I spell out in my privacy policy.
Frequently asked questions about therapy for people pleasing
Do I need therapy for this, or do I just need to get better at saying no?
I wonder what happens when you do try to say no. Do you say it then roll it back, or trip over your words, or caveat so strongly that it’s no longer clear what you are trying to say? If any of that sounds familiar, therapy might be useful.
It might not be that you “just” need to say no — it’s that you’ve tried, but can’t.
What if I end up people pleasing you?
That’s good! If you find yourself people pleasing me, we can work with that. Our job, together, is to notice when it might be happening in our relationship and explore it. This process, where you and I can both prod at what’s going on, can help you understand your other relationships. We can also explore the opposite — what it’s like to disagree with me, or push against the boundaries.
What happens in a first session?
You will talk, mostly. And I will listen, mostly. My job in this session is to get a sense of who you are and what you are working with. I might ask a few questions to help me with that understanding.
Your job in this session is to get a sense of whether you think we could work together. Do you feel comfortable speaking to me? Do you think I am listening to what you are saying?
Whatever you need to help you understand that for yourself, I welcome it. You can ask questions, interrupt me, correct me when I make a mistake. In therapy, there are no gold stars for politeness or good behaviour.
People pleasing is a learned skill. It helped (and helps) you navigate the world, but over time it has become the default, or near-default response. Our job is to learn new ways of being in the world — what is it like to say what you want clearly and without apology; how does it feel to say no, and end the sentence there. This might take some time.
Most people start to notice some of their behaviour and its patterns after a few months. After a few more months, we start understanding it, and then processing and shifting can begin.
But therapy is not a life-sentence. You might, one day, begin to feel that our work together is coming to a close. We will talk about that, and how you feel. And then, we’ll agree an ending.
