The Exhausting Truth About People-Pleasing: Why It Can feel hard to 'Set Boundaries'

If one more person tells you to 'just set boundaries,' you might scream. Trust me, I get it. If it was that simple, don't you think you would have done it already? The truth is, when you've experienced trauma, saying no doesn't feel like self-care - it feels like signing your own death warrant. Your nervous system has learned that keeping others happy keeps you safe. And that's not weakness - that's survival.

For a long time you have kept those around you happy as a way to keep yourself feeling safe. But whilst you are keeping everyone else self it is a failing juggling out that you are continually trying to keep up with.

You are looking at others for validation that you have done enough for them and they are happy but what about you?

When someone who has never experienced trauma talks about boundaries, they make it sound so simple. "Just communicate your needs clearly." "Learn to say no." "Put yourself first sometimes."

But they don't understand what happens in your body when you even think about saying no.

Your heart starts racing. Your chest tightens. That familiar knot forms in your stomach. Your mind floods with worst-case scenarios. They'll be angry, they'll leave, they'll think you're selfish, you'll be abandoned.

This isn't you being dramatic. This is your nervous system doing exactly what it learned to do to keep you alive.

Somewhere in your past, saying no wasn't safe. Maybe speaking up led to anger, violence, or emotional withdrawal. Maybe your needs were consistently dismissed or punished. Maybe love felt conditional, only given when you were compliant, helpful, small.

So your brilliant brain adapted. It learned that other people's happiness equals your safety. That being useful makes you worthy. That having needs makes you a burden.

The Hidden Cost of People-Pleasing

People-pleasing looks productive from the outside. You're helpful, reliable, always there for others. People love having you around because you never complain, never ask for much, never rock the boat.

But inside, you're drowning.

You're exhausted from constantly monitoring everyone else's emotions. You've lost track of what you actually want because you're so focused on what others need. You feel resentful but guilty about the resentment because "they didn't even ask you to do all this."

You say yes when you mean no. You over-explain. You apologise for things that aren't your fault. You take on responsibilities that aren't yours because saying "that's not my job" feels impossible.

And the worst part? You know you're doing it. You can see the pattern clearly. But knowing doesn't make it easier to stop.

As a former primary teacher, I watched this play out in children who'd experienced trauma. They'd be the "good" children, the helpful ones, the ones who never caused trouble. But that goodness came at a cost. They'd learned that their emotional survival depended on making adults happy.

I saw the same pattern in myself years later. Always volunteering, always available, always putting everyone else first. It looked like generosity, but it was actually terror. Terror of what might happen if I stopped being useful.

What's Really Happening in Your Nervous System

When you've experienced trauma, your nervous system gets stuck in a state of hypervigilance. You're constantly scanning for danger, trying to predict and prevent bad outcomes.

For people pleasers, that danger is often relational. Your nervous system has learned that other people's displeasure equals threat. So it mobilises all its resources to prevent that displeasure.

This isn't a conscious choice. It's happening in the primitive parts of your brain that developed to keep you alive. When you think about setting a boundary, those parts activate the same threat response as if you were facing physical danger.

Your body doesn't distinguish between "they might be disappointed in me" and "I might be harmed." Both trigger the fight-flight-freeze response.

So when someone tells you to "just set boundaries," they're essentially asking you to walk toward what your nervous system perceives as life-threatening danger. Of course it feels impossible.

The Fawn Response: The Forgotten Trauma Response

You've probably heard of fight, flight, and freeze. (Read my blog about it here). But there's a fourth response that's less talked about. Fawn.

Fawning is appeasing behaviour. It's making yourself useful, agreeable, indispensable. It's anticipating others' needs before they even voice them. It's becoming whatever you think others want you to be.

For many trauma survivors, especially those who experienced childhood trauma or relational trauma, fawning became the way to survive.

Fighting back wasn't safe. Running away wasn't possible. Freezing drew unwanted attention. But making the other person happy? That sometimes worked. That sometimes prevented the harm.

So you got very, very good at it.

The problem is, your nervous system is still using a strategy designed for survival in circumstances that are no longer present. You're fawning in situations where you're actually safe, but your body doesn't know the difference.

Why Boundary-Setting Feels Like Betrayal

Here's something people don't talk about enough. For trauma survivors, setting boundaries can feel like you're betraying your younger self.

That younger version of you learned to survive by being helpful, by keeping others happy, by having no needs. That strategy worked. It kept you as safe as possible in an unsafe situation.

So when you try to change that pattern now, it can feel like you're abandoning the very thing that saved you. Like you're betraying the survival instinct that got you this far.

There's grief in that. Grief for the child who had to learn to be small. Grief for all the years you spent prioritising everyone else. Grief for the parts of yourself you had to hide to stay safe.

Healing doesn't mean being ungrateful for those survival strategies. It means honouring them for what they were while gently acknowledging they're no longer serving you.

The Relationship Between Trauma and Self-Worth

At the core of people-pleasing is often a deep belief about your own worthlessness.

When you've experienced trauma, especially relational trauma, you may have internalised the message that you're not inherently valuable. That love, attention, and belonging must be earned through what you do, not who you are.

This sounds like:

"I'm only worth keeping around if I'm useful."

"If I have needs, people will leave."

"My value comes from what I give to others."

"I'm too much if I speak up, not enough if I stay quiet."

These beliefs feel like absolute truths, but they're actually the stories trauma told you about yourself. They're the lies you had to believe to make sense of circumstances that shouldn't have happened.

The path to boundary-setting isn't just about learning to say no. It's about slowly, gently challenging those core beliefs about your worth.

When People-Pleasing Becomes Tough

I remember hiding in my kitchen with four young children needing me, having said yes to another thing I didn't have capacity for. I felt the familiar tightness in my chest, the exhaustion in my bones.

I was functioning. From the outside, I looked like I had it all together.

But inside, I was a walking coping mechanism. I was so busy meeting everyone else's needs that I'd completely lost touch with my own.

I couldn't feel my own feelings because I was too busy managing everyone else's. I felt guilty wanting to rest because someone might need something. I felt I shouldn’t pursue my own interests because that felt selfish.

The version of me that emerged on the other side of healing is still kind, still caring, still helpful. But now those things are choices, not compulsions. Now I can help from a full cup, not an empty one.

The Physical Effect of Constant People-Pleasing

Your body keeps the score. While your mind is busy convincing you that you're fine, that you can handle one more thing, that everyone else's needs matter more than yours, your body is paying the price.

Chronic muscle tension, especially in your shoulders, neck and jaw. Your body is literally bracing for impact, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Exhaustion that sleep doesn't fix. You're running on stress hormones, constantly in a state of hypervigilance, always "on."

Digestive issues. Your gut is directly connected to your nervous system. When you're constantly anxious about others' reactions, your digestion suffers.

Difficulty sleeping. Your mind races with replays of conversations, worrying if you said the wrong thing, planning how to fix problems that aren't yours to fix.

Getting sick frequently. When your nervous system is stuck in survival mode, your immune system gets depleted.

This is your body trying to tell you something. It's begging you to stop, to rest, to tend to your own needs. But the people-pleasing pattern is so ingrained that you might not even register these signals until you're completely depleted.

Why Traditional Boundary Advice Misses the Mark

Most boundary advice goes something like this. "Decide what you will and won't accept. Communicate it clearly. Stick to your limits."

It's not wrong. But for trauma survivors, it's like being told to "just swim" when you're terrified of water because you nearly drowned.

The advice focuses on the behaviour, setting the boundary, without addressing what's underneath. The nervous system threat response, the core beliefs about worthlessness, the genuine fear of consequences.

It's like trying to teach someone to relax while they're being chased by a bear. First, we need to help them recognise they're safe. We need to work with the nervous system, not against it.

The Path Forward: Rewiring Your Nervous System

So if "just setting boundaries" doesn't work, what does?

The answer isn't quick or simple, but it is possible. It starts with helping your nervous system learn that you can be safe even when others are disappointed. That you can have needs and still be loved. That you can say no and survive the outcome.

This happens through small, graduated steps. Not diving into the deep end, but slowly, gently teaching your body that it's safe to have boundaries.

Start with Gentle Practice

Begin practising saying no in situations where the stakes are low and the relationship is secure.

"No thanks, I don't want a bag with that purchase."

"Actually, I'd prefer to sit by the window."

"I'm going to pass on that extra committee this year."

Notice what happens in your body when you do this. Heart racing? Chest tight? That's your nervous system responding to perceived threat. But then notice, you survived. Nothing terrible happened. You're still safe.

This isn't about the actual boundary. It's about showing your nervous system that boundary-setting doesn't equal danger.

Build Your Window of Tolerance

Your window of tolerance is the zone where you can process emotions and experiences without becoming overwhelmed. Trauma typically narrows this window.

Building capacity to tolerate discomfort is essential for boundary work. Because setting boundaries will feel uncomfortable at first, even when it's the right thing to do.

This might look like sitting with small amounts of discomfort instead of immediately fixing or fleeing. Practising breathing exercises when you notice anxiety rising. Learning to identify what you're feeling in your body before it becomes overwhelming.

When I first started learning nervous system regulation, I'd go for long walks with my children, walking alongside the sea and practice just being.

That capacity I built regulating my nervous system transferred to my relationships. I could stay present with discomfort instead of immediately people-pleasing my way out of it.

Challenge Your Thinking

Your mind will tell you that setting a boundary will lead to disaster. They'll hate you. They'll leave. Everything will fall apart.

But these are thoughts, not facts. They're your trauma speaking, trying to protect you from outcomes that happened in the past.

When you notice these thoughts, try asking:

"Is this true, or is this my trauma talking?"

"What's the actual evidence for this belief?"

"What's the worst that could realistically happen, and could I handle it?"

Often, the real risk is much smaller than your nervous system perceives.

Understand You're Allowed to Disappoint People

This is a hard truth. You cannot live a full, authentic life without sometimes disappointing others.

That doesn't make you a bad person. It makes you a human with your own needs, preferences, and limitations.

Other people's disappointment is not your responsibility to prevent. It’s their reaction, not yours and it is for them to deal with. Adults are responsible for managing their own emotions.

I know this feels cold or selfish when you've spent years believing that others' emotional wellbeing depends on you. But it's actually the most respectful thing you can do. Treating adults as capable of handling their own feelings.

Find Your "Why"

Boundary-setting in the abstract feels impossible. But boundary-setting for a specific purpose can feel more achievable.

What would boundaries give you?

More energy to show up for your children?

Better sleep because you're not overcommitted?

Genuine relationships instead of performative ones?

The ability to pursue something that matters to you?

When I started setting boundaries, my "why" was my children. I didn't want them to learn that their worth came from usefulness. I didn't want them to grow up watching their mum be a walking coping mechanism.

That purpose gave me courage when my nervous system was screaming at me to retreat back into people-pleasing.

Work with Your Body, Not Just Your Mind

You cannot think your way out of a nervous system response. You need to work with your body.

This might include breathwork to regulate your nervous system before difficult conversations. Movement to discharge the stress response after saying no. Grounding techniques when anxiety spikes. Somatic practices that help you feel safer in your own skin.

The Difference Between Boundaries and Walls

As you start this work, you might notice yourself swinging from people-pleasing to the opposite extreme. Shutting everyone out.

This is common and understandable. After years of having no boundaries, having rigid walls can feel like freedom.

But walls aren't the same as boundaries.

Boundaries are flexible. They say "I care about you AND I have needs too." They allow for connection while maintaining your sense of self.

Walls say "I can't trust anyone, so I'll just keep everyone out." They might feel safer temporarily, but they also keep out love, connection, and support.

The goal isn't to stop caring about others. It's to care about yourself with the same energy you've been giving everyone else.

When Setting Boundaries Changes Your Relationships

Here's what nobody tells you. Some relationships won't survive you setting boundaries.

Some people benefited from your lack of boundaries. Some people liked you better when you were small, compliant, available.

When you start taking up space, some people will try to make you feel guilty. They'll accuse you of being selfish, of changing, of not being the person they knew.

And they're right about one thing. You are changing. You're becoming someone who values themselves as much as they value others. You're becoming someone who recognises their own worth.

Not everyone will celebrate this. And that's information.

The people who truly love you will adjust. They'll appreciate the more authentic version of you, even if it takes time to recalibrate.

The people who can't handle your boundaries were often benefiting from your lack of them.

The Role of Therapy in Boundary Work

Can you learn to set boundaries without therapy? Yes.

Will it be easier with support? Yes it will.

Therapy provides a safe space to practise boundary-setting. You can explore your triggers, challenge your beliefs, and learn regulation skills with someone who understands that this isn't just about saying no. It's about healing wounds that made boundaries feel unsafe.

In my practice, we go at your pace. We don't push you into discomfort before you're ready. We build your capacity first, then gently challenge the patterns that no longer serve you.

We acknowledge that people-pleasing saved you once. And we work together to discover what will serve you now.

You Don't Have to Do This Perfectly

If there's one thing I want you to take away from this, it's this. You don't have to get boundary-setting perfect.

You'll mess up. You'll over-explain. You'll backtrack. You'll say yes when you meant to say no.

That doesn't mean you've failed. It means you're human, learning a new skill that goes against everything your nervous system learned about survival.

Be as gentle with yourself as you would be with a child learning to walk. You wouldn't criticise them for falling. You'd celebrate every wobbly step forward.

The same goes for you too.

The Freedom on the Other Side

Learning to set boundaries after years of people-pleasing is tough. It brings up feelings you've been avoiding. It changes relationships. It requires you to trust that you're worthy even when you're not being useful. It challenges.

But the freedom on the other side is worth it.

The freedom to wake up and not immediately think about what everyone else needs.

The freedom to say no without a knot in your stomach.

The freedom to pursue your own interests without guilt.

The freedom to be yourself, fully and authentically, without constantly monitoring others' reactions.

This is possible for you. Even if it doesn't feel like it right now. Even if every attempt you've made has felt impossible.

Your people-pleasing pattern was born from survival. It served a purpose. But you don't need it anymore.

You survived. You're safe now. And you get to choose what comes next.

If you're exhausted from people-pleasing and ready to learn how to set boundaries in a trauma-informed way, I'd love to support you. Book a free 15-minute call here and let's talk about what healing could look like for you. You deserve to be the person you want to be.