Why your no isn’t being respected

“I hate having to say no twice. I said no, and I want it respected.”

Short answer: Your no isn’t whole yet. When it’s backed by your heart and your actions, not just your mouth, it stops being a maybe-no, and whether they respect it matters a lot less, because you do.

Nine years ago I facilitated a seminar called Journey to Putting Yourself First. About a hundred and fifty people came, and at the front of the room I set out forty or fifty “No” pens. Each pen had a button, and when you pressed it, fifteen different voices said no, fifteen different ways. I loved those pens. When the seminar began, I held one up, pressed the button, and the room laughed. I told them: these pens are here for the taking. If you want one, now or anytime today, come up and claim one.

And then I watched. I could see the desire in their eyes, and I could see the hesitancy, because clearly there were not enough pens for everyone. By the end of the day it was plain as anything: the challenge of claiming a pen matched the challenge of saying no. Easily, thoroughly, and meaning it.

So many people wanted the no. So few felt they could claim it. Here’s what’s underneath that.

You know a congruent no when you hear one. Ask a store clerk, “Do you have any more of these?” and he says, “Sorry, no.” That’s it. They’re sold out, and nothing in his voice invites you to keep asking. But if he says, “Well, no, I don’t think so, I don’t think I saw any more on the shelf...” you’ll ask him to check, won’t you? His tone, his body, his uncertainty made an almost-no, a maybe-no. And a maybe-no invites the push.

So here’s what’s really happening. You say no with your mouth. But maybe you’re not emotionally congruent with it. There’s a fear of disappointing. A worry about whether you can hold the no. A concern about what they’ll think, how they’ll feel, because you said it. And the no isn’t backed by your actions. Which means the truth is: you’re not actually saying no.

And that’s the good news. Imagine if you were really saying no and nobody listened. That would be awful. But that’s not what’s happening. What’s happening is the no isn’t whole yet.

Because yes and no are one pencil. One end writes, the other erases. They’re not in opposition; they work together. You can’t say no unless you can say yes, and you can’t say yes unless you can say no. If you can’t say yes to the life you want, to self-respect, to caring for yourself, to the bubble bath, to receiving the love you want, then you can’t really say no, because you’re not clear on what your no is supporting.

And here’s the part almost nobody tells you: your no isn’t just good for you. It’s good for the person you’re saying it to. It hands them the chance to be capable, to be self-sufficient, to manage their own feelings and their own life. It takes you out of the center of their internal world, where, truthfully, you never were. You hand them back their life. And in doing so, you hand yourself back your own.

No is a complete sentence. No is a doorway: all the scattered, unrealized, half-denied pieces fold in on themselves, and what’s left is that bright, shining yes. Yes to your best life. Yes to You. Yes to that level of honesty. Yes to a real change that benefits everyone around you. Yes to better sleep, better breathing, better eating, better thinking, a better way. The no’s will work themselves out.

And one more thing. The moment you respect your own no, aligned in mind, heart, and action, it stops mattering so much whether they respect it. Because you do.

The practice

Try this: sing your no.

Singing is physiology, not performance. It drives your breath deep, works your diaphragm, and lines up your posture so the sound can get out. A sung no is practice: your whole body saying no at once. Up the octaves: no, no, no, no, no, no, noooooo. A little higher. One more time, higher still.

Now take a bow. (Really do it.)

And then do what that room did nine years ago. Put on Pete Townshend’s Let My Love Open the Door [Spotify · Apple Music] and dance. That day, people left with a pen in their hand or a no they newly owned. Leave this letter with yours.

This letter went out by email first. Want the next one in your inbox? The free guide at wendyfalcon.com is the door.

Sending love,
Wendy

Related letter: How do I hold boundaries with people who loved the version of me that always said yes?