Finding Peace As A People Pleaser

There’s a familiar kind of tiredness that doesn’t come from doing too much, but from caring about too many things in too many directions all at once.

It often shows up in people who are good at what they do. People who are relied upon. People who like responsibility, and even enjoy it. People who feel a quiet sense of pride in being the one who can hold things together when things get messy.

But, alongside that competence lives another impulse entirely: the urge to disappear. To hide, switch everything off, stop being needed for just a moment so that there’s room to breathe.

This is the delicate territory where people-pleasing, purpose, work, and the search for peace all overlap.

People-pleasing is often framed as something unhealthy or dysfunctional. Something to unlearn as quickly as possible. But for many people, it began as a way of navigating the world successfully.

Being observant. Being attuned, knowing how to read a room, stepping in where others hesitate, carrying responsibility with care.

These qualities don’t come from nowhere. They develop because, at some point, they worked. They helped relationships stay intact. They helped environments feel safer — helped you belong.

The strain creeps in when those same skills are used constantly, without rest or reciprocity, especially when they sit alongside work that genuinely matters to you.

The light switch

Rather than a gentle balance between work and rest, many people live with something closer to a switch.

One setting looks like full immersion: high responsibility; meaningful work; being needed and trusted; feeling capable and purposeful. The other setting is the opposite: withdrawal; avoidance; craving quiet; wanting to be unreachable for a while.

The change between the two can feel sudden and disorientating, not because you’ve stopped caring, but because caring without pause eventually takes its toll.

When family obligations, emotional commitments, and unexpected work pressures all land at once, that switch can feel... Harsh. Everything feels important. Everyone matters. You try to stretch further.

And still, it can feel as though nobody quite gets the best of you — including the most important person... You.

Sometimes we can power through and hardly anyone outside of ourselves might notice we're in the 'off-switch' position, sometimes it might only last a few hours or a few days. 

But there can be a sadness woven through this experience that doesn’t get much attention.

The sadness of knowing how capable you are, and still feeling limited. Sadness of disappointing people you love or respect. Holding responsibility while quietly longing for space.

This can be especially heavy when your work involves the wellbeing of others. When stepping back doesn’t just affect tasks or timelines, but people.

So you keep going. You compartmentalise. You tell yourself it’s temporary.

Until something inside you forces you to pause.

A personal note

Something I noticed a long time ago in my own personal light-switch experience was that there are some parts of my life where I switch between the settings regularly, work and some of my personal relationships get some of my "on" days and a few "off" days that I might be able to skip under the radar with if others are busy too. But in some areas of my life, maybe certain areas of my family and other relationships the switch was once on so fully that I burned out and once the light was off, I never really learned how to go back. Some of my relationships, rightly or wrongly, have ended up in total darkness without any understanding of why I put them there.

Coping

Balance, when it does show up, rarely shows up as a perfectly even split. For people who care deeply and feel responsible for others, it’s often uneven and shifting.

Sometimes it helps to stop thinking in terms of balance at all, and think instead about priority and sequence.

Who genuinely needs me right now?
What can wait without harm?
What would ease the pressure, even slightly?

How can I be there, without necessarily being there?

This isn’t about withdrawing, it’s just about remaining well enough to be fully present, for the things that fully need you... Fully.

Rather than drastic changes or rigid rules, many people find steadier ground through smaller, less visible shifts:

Name the season you’re in: Some periods are simply heavier than others. Calling it a demanding season can be kinder than referencing it under "personal failings".

Allow partial presence: You don’t have to give everything to be enough. Honest, imperfect presence is often more sustainable than forcing yourself to be fully “on”.

Let roles take turns: You don’t need to be everything every day. Over time, the balance often appears across weeks or months, not within a single afternoon.

Make peace small and ordinary: Peace doesn’t always mean a big escape - running away, leaving the country (although I recommend it). Sometimes it’s a quiet cup of tea. A short walk. A few minutes without input or responsibility.

Speak plainly: Clear, simple boundaries tend to land better than long explanations. You don’t need to justify your limits for them to be real to you, or real to the person that needs you.

When honesty meets misunderstanding

Relationships don’t need perfection — they need honesty.
But honesty doesn’t always bring immediate understanding.

There may be people in your life who struggle to accept the shape of your responsibilities, your limits, or the way your energy fluctuates. They may feel disappointed. They may judge, misunderstand your intentions entirely.

Part of finding peace is learning to let that discomfort belong to them, rather than carrying it for them.

You don’t need to correct every interpretation.
You don’t need to manage other people’s feelings about your choices.
You don’t need to absorb their frustration as evidence that you’re doing something wrong.

It’s possible to allow someone their disappointment without becoming entangled in guilt and to do so without judging them in return. They, too, may simply be a human doing their best with what they understand.

When nobody gets your best

When you’re stretched thin, pushing harder rarely produces better care, better work, or stronger relationships. It usually just creates thinner versions of all three.

Sometimes the most responsible thing you can do for your work, your family, and yourself is to acknowledge that you are one person with limited energy, and that this doesn’t diminish your worth or commitment.

If you’re in a week where everything feels important and the demands feel relentless, you’re not failing at balance. You’re standing at a complicated intersection of care, responsibility, and possibly exhaustion.

And perhaps we don't need to flip the light switch to the off position fully, but maybe we could employ a dimmer. Soften how hard the switch flips.

Sometimes the work is simply recognising the moment before you tip too far in either direction and responding more kindly, recognising when the switch is about to flip and meeting that moment with a little bit more self-care.

Ask yourself, where in your life are you trying to be everything at once and what might change if you allowed yourself to be just human there instead?

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