If it's not a HELL YES it's a no

Someone asked me to do a thing. It was a nice someone, and an optional thing. A thing that’s generally a nice thing to be asked to do.

It would be an easy thing to do, if not an exciting thing. It was the kind of request I felt good about getting–not because I love doing this thing, but because getting asked made me feel important. The request came from someone I want to like me, and to feel like I am there for them. The thing wasn’t something I was thrilled about doing, but it felt easier to say yes than no at the time of the request. So I did say yes, even though it was a very neutral yes.

In the moment I said yes, I had a rising awareness that I was agreeing due to some invisible social contract I’d made up in my head, and a sense of obligation not to turn down what most would consider a nice thing to do. I reassured myself that this would be an easy thing to do, and therefore not a big deal.

We had the scheduling back and forth about the thing, and my heart sank. I didn’t like seeing this non-exciting, optional thing take up space in a little colored rectangle on my calendar. But there it was, slated to happen in a few weeks, so I was committed. I tried to forget about it in the meantime.

On the day before doing the thing, the reminder about the thing made me go, “Ugh, right. That’s tomorrow.”

In the hours leading up to the doing, I was resentful. I didn’t want to do this thing, and yet I cheerfully opted into it. I betrayed myself. That is a big deal.

I went over in my head why it happened. At the time of the request, I did not check to see whether I wanted to do this thing. I didn’t defend and take care of myself, my time, and what I want. The other person asked. They wanted me. It is a nice thing. I liked the idea of being a person who says yes to nice things, so I said yes. Sometimes it’s just easier to say what the other person wants to hear and what you wish were true, versus what is actually true.

There were other things I preferred to spend my time doing that day. This optional thing, which I allegedly wanted to do–I’d said yes, after all– had morphed into a dreadful chore I’d trudge through, wondering when it would be over. Therefore, this thing wouldn’t be good, because I wasn’t into it.

I did the thing. It was indeed easy, minus the push through the resentment, self-betrayal, and longing to do other things. I didn’t particularly enjoy it, but it was fine. Afterward, the person who asked was grateful. I was glad it was behind me, dimmed out on my calendar. I’ll probably get asked to do things like it again in the future, because I said yes to this one. I can expect get more of the things I say yes to.

But from here on out, I got some new rules. I will pause before agreeing to do a thing. Even if that means saying, “Let me think about it and get back to you.” If my heart leaps at the opportunity, if it is in deep, true service to another human being I care about, if I feel myself expand anticipating what doing a thing will be like, if the benefit to my family or friends lights me up, I’ll do it. Otherwise, I will not.

In short, if it’s not a HELL YES, it’s a no.

The great thing about a Hell Yes is that it comes to you big and fast and you know it when you feel it. Anything else isn’t it, even if what you feel is something that could be vaguely yes-shaped if you squint at it. The Hell part of a HELL YES is critical.

Once I’ve run the hell-yes-or-no internal check, I only have to state the results. Delivering a Hell Yes to someone asking you to do something is easy. No is trickier.

Saying no to someone you care about requires thoughtfulness, tact, and vulnerability. Especially when you need to turn down a request that’s also kind of a compliment. But it’s not impossible.

It feels so good that you asked me, thank you. I want to say yes, but I’m not into this thing (alt: I’m taking a break from doing this thing) (alt alt: I’m not doing this thing) (optional: anymore/right now). Can I offer some ideas for others you might ask? (Optional only if I want to get asked again:) Will you ask me again next year?

Some version of this reply is the most honest and kind way to say no. Makes it about me versus them. Shares a truth about myself. Risks that they won’t ask me again, but in the world of things I don’t want to do, that’s more of a reward than risk.

It opens the door to the possibility that my calendar will have less “ugh” and more “can’t wait.”