We’re Done Being Nice: How Former Good Girls, Queer Misfits, and People-Pleasers are Snapping Back

I’m letting go. I’m not shrinking anymore. Photo by Niloufar Mirhadi on Unsplash

I Keep Hearing It: “I’m Done”

Lately, I’ve been hearing something different in therapy sessions—especially from high-functioning HSPs. Therapists, nurses, lawyers, doctors, grad students, finance execs, artists. People who’ve spent their lives performing calmly while quietly unraveling inside. For a deeper exploration of how early experiences shape people-pleasing behaviors, Moya Sarner's article in The Guardian offers valuable insights into the development of the "false self" and the journey toward authenticity.

And now? They’re done.

• “I’m not sugarcoating anymore.”

• “I’m done taking care of other people’s feelings like it’s my damn job.”

• “I’ll take my chances.”

These are women, queer folks, and outsiders who’ve spent decades doing what they were told: shrinking, smoothing, swallowing their fire. They were praised for how well they could contain themselves. But that container? It’s cracking wide open.

This isn’t a phase. It’s a shift. And it’s one you can feel in your bones.

The Inner Teen Who’s Done Being Polite

Here’s where it gets even more interesting.

Many of my clients—especially the high-achieving, anxious, perfectionist HSP types—are rediscovering their inner teen. You know, the one who slammed doors, blasted music, and dared to roll her eyes at authority.

The teen who wasn’t “nice.” The teen who had opinions. The teen who got shut down—by parents, teachers, culture, or even their own scared adult selves.

That part of you didn’t vanish. She just got buried under years of expectations, obligations, and “being good.” And now? She’s pissed. She’s tired of performing. She’s ready to speak up.

And she deserves a seat at the table.

When we let our inner teen show up—safely, consciously, and compassionately—we reclaim the parts of ourselves we had to silence to survive.

Reclaiming her voice is how we start taking up space again.

This Is an HSP Rebellion

To much of society, Highly Sensitive People (HSPs) seem like unlikely rebels. We’re supposed to be the empaths. The peacemakers. The ones who pick up on tension and quietly neutralize it before anyone else notices.

But here’s the thing: when you’re constantly expected to absorb what no one else will acknowledge—or even see—you eventually burn out. You either implode quietly or, God forbid, explode inconveniently.

This is the part where many HSPs stop trying to manage the energy in the room and start naming the damn thing. The part where the fear of speaking up is finally smaller than the cost of staying silent. When discomfort becomes less terrifying than invisibility.

That’s the turning point. That’s when the shift begins.

The Cost of “Being Nice”

Let’s be clear: “nice” is often a trauma response.

A lot of us learned to be “nice” because it kept us safe. We didn’t just wake up one day wanting to keep the peace. We were trained—by emotionally volatile parents, cultural expectations, or straight-up survival needs—to stay small. To be helpful, non-threatening, non-demanding.

So we became the overfunctioners. The caretakers. The ones who made sure everyone else was okay, while quietly disappearing ourselves.

It makes sense if you’re exhausted. You’ve probably been doing this dance since childhood. And no one applauds when you stop. In fact, they often get pissed. Because when you stop playing your role, the whole dysfunctional system starts to wobble.

People-Pleasing Is Survival, Until It Isn’t

If any of this sounds familiar, you’re not alone:

• You grew up hyper-aware of how others saw you—always scanning for approval, bracing against disapproval.

• You learned early on that your job was to smooth things over, make people comfortable, and anticipate needs before anyone had to speak them.

• You absorbed stress that wasn’t yours and tried to “fix” moods you didn’t cause.

• You hosted like it was the damn Oscars, even when you weren’t the host.

• You avoided offering opinions or making choices because you didn’t want to risk someone being disappointed.

• You asked all the questions but rarely shared anything real about yourself.

For most of your life, this probably felt like being a “good” friend, daughter, partner, employee. But over time, you became a shape-shifter—reading the room so hard that you forgot how to read yourself.

And yeah, no wonder you’re tired.

For HSPs, This Hits Even Harder

If you’re a Highly Sensitive Person, people-pleasing isn’t just a habit—it’s a nervous system strategy. You’re likely someone who feels everything deeply, from joy to rejection to a raised eyebrow.

And when you’ve internalized the belief that love is earned through usefulness, productivity, or perfection? You learn to perform your value. You become so damn good at taking care of everyone else that you forget to check if you even want to be there.

You were taught—explicitly or not—that your worth is measured by what you do, not who you are.

• If someone’s upset? You fix it.

• If there’s tension? You smooth it.

• If you want to rest? You push through it.

• If someone hurts you? You rationalize it.

• If your needs show up? You shrink them.

You perform emotional labor like a second job, with no pay and no benefits.

And then you wonder why you’re depleted.

Where This All Starts (And Why It’s So Damn Hard to Stop)

Let’s back up a bit. Because for many of us, this didn’t come out of nowhere.

If you were raised by parents who were emotionally volatile, absent, narcissistic, or just plain overwhelmed, you probably got the message early: your needs are too much. Your feelings are inconvenient. Your role is to make others comfortable, not to be seen or heard.

You might’ve learned that it’s safer to anticipate everyone else’s needs than to have your own. That being helpful = being loved. That your value lies in what you can do, not who you are.

This can create an identity crisis that follows you into adulthood. You don’t just struggle to take up space—you question whether you’re even allowed to have it. You might feel chronically anxious in relationships where you’re not “earning your keep.” You may feel guilty for needing rest, attention, or boundaries.

Even worse? When someone actually respects your autonomy, it might feel wrong or unfamiliar. You might confuse control with care. Chaos with connection. You might find yourself in relationships where you’re valued for your utility instead of your humanity.

And holy hell, is that exhausting.

What Happens When You Start Saying “No”

Here’s the thing: when you stop performing, some people will get uncomfortable.

That’s not a sign you’re doing it wrong. It’s a sign you’re doing something different.

When you begin setting boundaries, honoring your energy, and letting people handle their own feelings, things shift:

• Some people will step up.

• Some will fall away.

• And some will try to guilt, shame, or gaslight you back into place.

That’s how you know you’re disrupting a pattern.

You’re not abandoning anyone. You’re returning to yourself.

HSPs and the Inner Teen Who’s Finally Speaking Up

Here’s where it gets even more interesting.

Many of my clients—especially the high-achieving, anxious, perfectionist HSP types—are rediscovering their inner teen. You know, the one who slammed doors, blasted music, and dared to roll her eyes at authority.

The teen who wasn’t “nice.”
The teen who had opinions.
The teen who got shut down—by parents, teachers, culture, or even their own scared adult selves.

That part of you didn’t vanish. She just got buried under years of expectations, obligations, and “being good.” And now? She’s pissed. She’s tired of performing. She’s ready to speak up.

And she deserves a seat at the table.

When we let our inner teen show up—safely, consciously, and compassionately—we reclaim the parts of ourselves we had to silence to survive.

Taking Up Space Isn’t Selfish. It’s Sacred.

Repeat after me:

• I’m allowed to be here.

• I don’t have to earn my worth.

• My needs aren’t a burden.

• I don’t have to explain or justify my limits.

• I don’t need to shrink to make others more comfortable.

Taking up space doesn’t mean dominating others. It means including yourself in the equation.

For HSPs, that can feel revolutionary. Because we’re often the ones who’ve been told, implicitly or explicitly, that we’re “too much”—too emotional, too needy, too intense.

But what if your sensitivity wasn’t a liability?
What if it was your superpower?

It’s Not About Being Loud. It’s About Being True.

Rebellion doesn’t always look like a megaphone. Sometimes it looks like:

• Saying “no” without an apology.

• Letting your friend carry the conversation.

• Letting your house be a mess when someone visits.

• Canceling plans when you’re wiped out.

• Refusing to shrink your brilliance to avoid envy.

• Choosing peace over performative productivity.

These aren’t small acts. These are fucking revolutionary.

You are allowed to show up as you are—not as the smoothed-out, polished version someone else finds more convenient.

You Don’t Owe Anyone Your Constant Performance

If you’ve spent your life being “the strong one,” “the organized one,” “the one who never needs anything,” here’s your permission slip:

You can stop.

You are allowed to be tender. Messy. Confused. Vulnerable. Human.

You’re allowed to not always have your shit together. You’re allowed to take a beat. You’re allowed to be the one who needs.

You don’t owe anyone a palatable version of your pain—or your power.

Final Thoughts: This Is Your Time

If you’re feeling an undercurrent of change—a quiet inner “fuck this,” a pull toward reclaiming your voice—you’re not a mess. You’re not broken. You’re waking up.

This is your reminder:

You don’t need to be “nice” to be good.
You don’t need to be perfect to be worthy.
You don’t need to disappear to be safe.

You’re allowed to take up space.
You’re allowed to want more.
You’re allowed to stop explaining yourself.

Especially if you’re an HSP, a queer woman, a people-pleasing overachiever who’s been told your softness is weakness—this moment is for you.

It’s not too late to come back to yourself.

And that tired part of you who’s been holding it all together for years?

She deserves to rest.

Want more truth-telling from a therapist who’s still in the trenches?
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Disclaimer: This blog isn’t therapy. If you’re struggling, please connect with a licensed mental health professional.