Are You a Liar?
How to stop sacrificing yourself to keep others comfortable
Welcome to Beyond Self Improvement issue #128. Every Wednesday, I share an essay with practical ideas on finding personal freedom in an unfree world.
Dear Friend,
A hard truth:
If you're a people-pleaser, you're lying to everyone around you.
I know that sounds harsh. But understanding why changes everything.
Being someone who pleases people sounds like a good thing. After all, aren't we taught from childhood to be pleasant, agreeable, and get along with others?
However, this pattern of behavior is tainted by many problems.
Those who feel they must mould themselves to everyone else's expectations secretly harbor resentment. They act like the perfect partner when their real feelings are darker. They say yes to plans they dislike or even hate. They never express their authentic needs.
Here's the brutal truth: They're liars.
I know calling someone a liar sounds unkind. But they're lying for heartbreaking reasons. They're not lying to gain advantage. They're terrified of other people's displeasure.
Here's why: Almost always, their childhood involved being around someone—usually a parent—who couldn't handle the fundamental truths about their child.
Maybe your father exploded at any disagreement. Suggesting a different dinner or admitting you were tired triggered his rage—and as a child, that rage felt dangerous. Or your mother withdrew completely when you expressed sadness, leaving you feeling abandoned and desperate to win back her love. Or a parent made you responsible for their emotions: "You're making mommy very upset" whenever you had your own needs.
You learned to survive by reflexively guessing what others wanted.
What you wanted became irrelevant. Sometimes the lying wasn't even a result of fear. It was from love. You lied to avoid setting off another fight between your parents. To keep a depressed mom happy. To avoid burdening someone who already seemed fragile.
Who were you to make their life more complicated?
The cost of this pattern? You lose yourself completely. Your self-esteem erodes. You stop living your values. Stress and anxiety become constant companions. Your relationships risk becoming codependent. You can't make decisions or handle conflict. Life feels draining instead of engaging and enlivening. Ultimately, you become depressed.
The good news? There are three ways out of this pattern.
Most people aren't your parents. Your colleagues, friends, and partner can handle contradiction. They won't explode or abandon you for having different opinions. You learned to relate to the world around people who weren't representative of humanity as a whole.
Your "kindness" is harmful. At work, you're not helping anyone by withholding your honest thoughts. In relationships, staying with someone because you think they can't survive without you wastes their time—and yours. They'll be fine. You're being sentimental, not kind.
Learn to be diplomatic. As a child, you couldn't express your needs skillfully. Now you can. You can say no while showing goodwill. You can disagree without calling someone an idiot. You can end a relationship while honoring what it meant to you.
You can be pleasant without being a people-pleaser.
Keep honoring yourself,
Ryan
P.S. If you're thinking "But I'm just being nice," ask yourself: Do you ever feel resentful after saying yes? That resentment is your authentic self trying to speak up.
If this resonated, consider sharing it with someone who needs to hear it. We all know a people-pleaser who's secretly suffering.
This point really spoke to me…..”You learned to relate to the world around people who weren't representative of humanity as a whole”. Even at the age of almost 50 I still sometimes notice the influence of my parent’s views of the world in my thinking! Being willing to stand behind my perspective as just as valid as theirs is something I’ve been working on for many years, and the expansion and relief that comes when I am able to do that is powerful.
Oh, the tales I could tell about saying "yes" to things I absolutely dreaded! Like the time I agreed to help a friend move, despite a crippling backache, and ended up almost breaking my neck trying to lift a ridiculously heavy sofa. My internal monologue that day was a cacophony of groans and self-recrimination. Your article beautifully articulates that quiet resentment that brews when we betray ourselves for the sake of perceived peace. It’s like, you think you’re being noble, but inside you’re just a simmering pot of "I wish I hadn't done that."
The humor in it for me now is looking back and realizing how utterly transparent my "niceness" must have been to anyone paying attention. The forced smiles, the slightly strained voice – it’s a performance, isn't it? And exhausting one at that. Thanks for shining a light on this, Ryan; it feels good to know I'm not alone in having been a card-carrying member of the "Lying for Love (and Fear)" club.