The Cost of Saying Yes to Everyone Who Asks

A few years back, I watched my cousin Chidi unravel right in front of our family. He was the guy everyone turned to - the one who'd drop everything to fix a neighbor's generator at midnight, host uninvited relatives for weeks, or lend money he didn't have. 'No wahala,' he'd say with that easy Lagos smile. But one day, during a heated family meeting, he snapped. Tears streaming, he unloaded years of bottled-up frustration. 'I've been carrying all of you on my back, and nobody sees me breaking!' The room went silent. Chidi wasn't just tired; he was empty. Saying yes to everyone had cost him his peace, his relationships, and nearly his health.

That moment stuck with me because I've been there too, in smaller ways. In Nigeria, where community is everything - from owambe parties to church commitments - turning someone down feels like betrayal. But the truth is, every yes to someone else is often a no to yourself. And over time, those nos add up to a life that's not yours.

The Slow Drain on Your Time and Energy

Think about your week. That extra shift at work because your boss asked nicely? The family wedding you squeezed in, even though you're drowning in deadlines? Each yes chips away at your reserves. Psychologists call it decision fatigue, but in real life, it's the exhaustion that hits after you've spread yourself thin like palm oil on too much bread.

I remember agreeing to mentor a friend's startup idea. It started with one call a week, then daily texts, weekend strategy sessions. Soon, my own goals - writing that book, spending time with my kids - faded into the background. I wasn't helping him thrive; I was enabling his dependency while starving my own dreams. The cost? Burnout. Sleepless nights, snapping at loved ones, that constant low hum of resentment. When I finally bowed out, our friendship survived, but barely. He'd grown used to my yes, and my no felt like rejection.

In relationships, this drain is insidious. Romantic partners notice first. 'You're always busy,' they'd say, and I'd wonder why I felt so distant. Friends drift because surface-level yeses don't build depth. Family obligations pile up, turning love into ledger-keeping.

How Yes Erodes Trust and Authenticity

Saying yes when you mean no isn't kindness; it's dishonesty. It trains people to expect your compliance, and when you can't deliver - because no one can forever - trust fractures. Suddenly, you're unreliable, the flake who overpromised.

Take Ada, a colleague from Abuja. She said yes to every team happy hour, every office gossip session, every favor from coworkers. It made her popular at first, the life of the party. But as her personal life crumbled - a failing marriage she ignored - resentment brewed. Coworkers kept asking, oblivious to her strain. When she started saying no, they whispered she was 'acting up.' Her yeses had set false expectations, making authentic boundaries seem rude.

In romantic relationships, it's worse. You say yes to plans you hate, intimacy you're not ready for, compromises that chip at your core. Over time, your partner loves a version of you that's not real. Intimacy built on pretense crumbles under pressure. I've seen couples in counseling where one admits, 'I never knew the real you because you always agreed.' The cost is a shallow bond, prone to the first real storm.

Family dynamics amplify this. In Nigerian homes, elders ask, and you obey - funding siblings' lifestyles, hosting endless guests. But unchecked, it breeds entitlement. Siblings stop appreciating; they demand. You become the ATM, not the brother.

The Quiet Buildup of Resentment

Resentment is yes's ugliest child. It simmers unspoken, poisoning interactions. You smile through the favor, but inside, you're tallying: 'Why me? When do I get a break?' It leaks out in passive-aggression - short replies, canceled plans, emotional distance.

Chidi's explosion was years of that. He'd say yes to his brothers' schemes, then seethe privately. By the time he spoke, bonds were frayed. Relationships survive conflict, but resentment festers like untreated malaria.

Breaking the Cycle: Learning the Power of Selective Yes

The shift starts with awareness. Track your yeses for a week. Notice who asks what, how you feel after. That auntie's constant borrowing? The friend's endless venting sessions? Patterns emerge.

Practice no in low-stakes moments. 'I can't make it this weekend, but let's catch up soon.' No explanations needed - they're your shield. With closer ties, be honest: 'I want to help, but I'm stretched thin right now.' Vulnerability invites understanding.

Set defaults. Block time for yourself first - family dates, solo walks, that hobby gathering dust. When asked, check: Does this align with my priorities? Excite me? Replenish or drain?

I've reclaimed evenings by saying no to group chats demanding instant replies. Now, I choose: respond thoughtfully or not at all. Relationships deepened; the superficial ones faded, making space for real ones.

Chidi's doing better now. He hosts less, lends wisely, communicates limits. Family grumbled at first, but respect grew. They're learning his yes means more when earned.

The real cost of yes to everyone isn't time or money - it's you. Reclaim it by choosing yeses that honor your life. Start small: one no today. Watch how your relationships transform from obligatory to chosen, from draining to fulfilling. Your peace depends on it.