Radiating Purpose From PEople Pleasing to purpose Vol 1; 3
But life, as it always does, brought teachers with sharp edges—partners who demanded more and more, friends who disappeared when I gently named a need, workplaces that celebrated what I could produce but never asked what I actually wanted.
From People Pleasing to Purpose: How Letting Go Brought Me Home to Myself
If you’re reading this and see yourself as the “nice one,” the helper, the fixer, the one who can read a room before you’ve even read your own heart—please know, you are not alone. My journey as a survivor, advocate, and now life coach is colored by a long, unlearning dance with people-pleasing, and I’m still gently releasing it, wave over wave.
For most of my life, saying “yes” felt safer than admitting I wanted to say “no.” Growing up, I learned that harmony sometimes required me to disappear—it was better to quietly find ways to live in my creative mind, draw or write. It was just better to be quiet. Later, I realized that same pattern played out in every relationship, romantic or otherwise. I became the expert at making myself small to make others comfortable, at abandoning my quiet longings for “peace,” at thinking being needed was the same as being loved.
I mean, I did start a semi-underground newspaper in high school, crawled into brothels in Serbia to help girls, built a safe house, got in verbal fights with tech leaders who let sex trafficking happen on their platforms. So… honestly.. where my bad ass self for ME? Why was not standing up for me? Whether it was a demanding boss or a gaslighting (or worse) boyfriend was tryign to control me or not, I was always in survival mode.
Jung says, “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” For years, I called my shrinking “love,” my bending “strength.” But life, as it always does, brought teachers with sharp edges—partners who demanded more and more, friends who disappeared when I gently named a need, workplaces that celebrated what I could produce but never asked what I actually wanted.
Romantic relationships were the hardest mirror. I found myself with men I adored and poured myself into—men who, in the end, needed to be rescued, fixed, or whose wounds could not allow closeness beyond their own pain. I confused endurance for partnership and learned—slowly, painfully—that if someone does not meet you in your yes and your no, you will eventually disappear from your own life.
One of my core discoveries was with a former partner: I would share my fears, my dreams, my traumas, and the conversation always, somehow, circled back to his pain. I coached, soothed, held space, and even as my own energy waned, I kept pouring. “Love isn’t love if you lose yourself inside of it,” writes Jillian Tureki. “When you forget to belong to yourself, everyone else owns a piece of you.” That sentence now lives in my bones.
So how did I start to come home? How might you?
Here are three hard-earned learnings from the middle of my journey:
1. Boundaries Are a Love Language—For You First.
Saying “no” felt like betrayal, rejection, near-impossible. But I learned, boundary by boundary, that my “no” can be gentle and loving—and still an act of devotion to myself. Now, when I am tempted to say yes in order to be loved, I quietly check in: Will I lose myself if I agree? Is this kindness, or fear?
2. You Are Not Responsible for Anyone’s Healing but Your Own.
I have finally accepted that my job is not to fix, rescue, or carry others through their storms. When a partner’s wounds become the entire landscape of the relationship, nobody thrives. To love well is to witness, to support—not to abandon my center. As Matthew Hussey says, “If you find yourself over-functioning in your relationship, you’re doing both people a disservice. Only half the relationship is showing up.”
3. The Only Life I Am Meant to Master Is My Own.
It’s humbling to admit how many dreams I deferred, how much rest I denied myself, how many calls I answered while my own heart was on hold. What I know now—what I hope my clients and you, dear reader, take with you—is that living your soul’s purpose isn’t selfish. When you choose yourself with intention, everything and everyone you love benefits.
This season of life as a newly emerging coach, single mom and thought leader in the spaces of healing for survivors of sexual trauma, I am learning the simultaneous art of grieving the time I spent lost and celebrating every single day I return to myself.
People-pleasing is a survival strategy, not a life sentence. It’s what helped me make sense of chaos and keep connection as a child, but it can’t be the soil of my adult purpose.
Somedays, I get triggered—by a request, a voice raised, a new relationship—and catch myself wanting to shrink again. But I am also learning to notice, to breathe, to seek out spacious relationships where my yes and no are equally holy.
If you recognize yourself in these patterns, know you are so much more than your compliance or your care. Self-sacrifice is not a virtue when it comes at the expense of your truth. And the world needs the light you bring when you are fully, unapologetically you.
I leave you with this: “The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are.” (Jung)
May you make choices that honor your reality, not other people’s expectations.
May you create a life, a practice, a purpose, that you don’t have to abandon yourself to keep.
If you feel called to explore your own alchemy, healing, or purpose in a supportive and soulful way, I invite you to connect with me. Whether you are curious about coaching, looking for a healing community, or simply needing a place to start, I offer free initial consultations through Radiate Purpose.
Let’s discover together what’s possible for you.
You can request a free call or learn more here.
Your story matters. Your healing is sacred. You don’t have to walk this alone.
Andrea
