Why "Self Love" Made Me Want to Puke (And How "Me Too" Changed Everything)

Let me be brutally honest with you: the term "self-love" used to make me feel a bit sick.

There, I said it. While everyone else seemed to embrace this fluffy concept, I was thinking it sounded selfish, narcissistic, and frankly, a bit much. All I could hear was "me, me, ME!" - and that felt completely wrong compared to everything I'd been taught about being a good person.

If you're reading this and nodding along, chances are you're a people pleaser too. If that's the case, I see you. I was you.

The People Pleaser's Dilemma

For years, I wore people-pleasing like a badge. I was the one who always said yes. I always put everyone else's happiness before my own. I bent over backwards to ensure everyone around me was comfortable—even when it left me feeling absolutely knackered.

Sound familiar?

People-pleasing often starts innocently enough. Perhaps you grew up in a household where keeping the peace was everything. Or perhaps love felt conditional—you had to be "good" and go along with things to receive it. Maybe you learned early that your worth was tied to being helpful or that any disagreement was something scary to avoid.

But here's what nobody talks about: people-pleasing isn't about being kind or generous. It's rooted in fear.

The fear of rejection. The terror that if we don't constantly give, accommodate, and bend to others' needs, they'll leave us. We feel we aren't inherently worthy of love and belonging—we have to earn it through our actions.

The fear of conflict. The belief that any disagreement will result in disastrous consequences. So, it's safer to swallow our own needs and avoid rocking the boat.

The fear of being seen as selfish. The idea buried deep down that putting ourselves first, even just a tiny bit, makes us horrible people.

The Dark Side of People-Pleasing

What I didn't realize for the longest time was how damaging this pattern had become. People-pleasing isn't the lovely thing I thought it was. It's actually quite manipulative when you think about it.

Consider this: when we say yes when we mean no, when we hide our true feelings to keep others happy, when we give and give until we're resentful—we're not being real. We're putting on a mask we think others will like.

This creates relationships built on shaky ground. People don't actually know who we are because we've never shown them. They love the easy-going, always-available version of us, but what happens when that mask slips?

The overwhelm was crushing. I was over-committed, running on fumes, saying yes to everything. My calendar was packed with other people's events while my own dreams and needs sat forgotten.

I had no boundaries—literally none. I was available round the clock, took on others' emotions like they were my own, and somehow believed that saying no would make me awful.

The irony? All this people-pleasing made me increasingly resentful, exhausted, and frankly, not that nice to be around. The very thing I was doing to keep people close was slowly pushing them away.

The "Me Too" Revelation

Everything changed when I encountered a simple idea that flipped how I thought about self-care and self-worth.

Instead of "self-love" (which still makes me cringe a bit), what if I thought about it as "me too"?

I deserve the same level of effort, energy, love, and support as I give to others. No better, no worse, just the same.

This shift wasn’t about becoming selfish or self-important. It wasn’t about putting myself above others. It was about recognizing that I’m a person too, with needs, feelings, and limits that matter just as much.

Would I expect a friend to run themselves into the ground for me? No way. So why was I doing that for others?

Would I want someone I care about to hide their feelings to keep me comfortable? Absolutely not. So why was I doing that?

Would I think less of a loved one for having boundaries and saying no? Of course not. So why did I believe that others would think less of me?

Putting "Me Too" Into Practice

This mindset shift didn’t happen overnight, but it fundamentally changed how I navigated life. Here's what began to change:

Learning to Say No (Without Writing a Novel About Why)

The first time I said no without following it up with a tremendous explanation, I nearly had a panic attack. But you know what? The world didn’t end. The person asking didn’t hate me. They simply said "no worries" and moved on.

I started small. I said no to invitations when I was genuinely shattered. I didn't volunteer for every single task. I even let phone calls go to voicemail when I needed some space.

Each "no" got a little easier. Each boundary I set felt less intimidating.

Getting Honest About My AuDHD

A significant transformation came when I accepted my AuDHD diagnosis and began being open about what that actually means daily.

Instead of masking and pretending to be neurotypical (which was utterly tiring), I started having honest conversations with the people in my life:

"I need you to know that texting doesn't work well for me—my brain doesn't process written communication the same way. Can we talk on the phone instead? Even better if we can meet face-to-face so I can see your expressions."

"I'm quite literal, so if you ask me what I'm doing this week, I'll give you a detailed itinerary. I might not pick up that you're actually asking if I'm free to meet up. Just be direct with me—it simplifies everything."

"I don't always catch subtleties or read between the lines. If there's something you need me to know, please just tell me outright."

This honesty felt scary initially. I was essentially saying, "Here are my differences, here’s what I'm not good at, and here's how you can assist me."

But something beautiful happened: people stepped up. They appreciated my honesty. They began communicating with me in ways that worked, making our relationships real and connected.

Setting Boundaries That Actually Stick

Instead of being available to everyone constantly, I became more thoughtful about my energy and presence.

I stopped checking emails after 6 PM. I created specific times for phone calls, instead of being on-demand. I learned to say, "I can't take this on right now, but I could help you find someone who can" instead of automatically saying yes to every request.

Most importantly, I stopped feeling guilty about having limits. "Me too" means I deserve rest, downtime, and the right to protect my energy—just like everyone else.

Communicating My Needs (Instead of Expecting People to Read My Mind)

This was one of the toughest lessons: if I don’t articulate my needs, I can’t be upset when they aren’t met.

Instead of hoping someone would notice I was struggling, I began asking for help directly. Instead of becoming frustrated when people didn’t communicate effectively, I explained what I genuinely needed.

"I'm feeling overwhelmed right now and could use some support."

"Can we schedule a proper time to discuss this rather than sorting it out over text?"

"I need some time to process this before I can provide a thoughtful response."

It felt vulnerable, but it was also immensely liberating.

The Ripple Effects

The transformations from embracing "me too" were profound:

Less overwhelm. Stopping the habit of saying yes to everything created space for what truly mattered to me.

Better relationships. Showing up authentically instead of always accommodating allowed people to connect with the real me.

Improved communication. Being honest about my needs and limits helped others meet me where I was.

Reduced resentment. Respecting my own boundaries diminished the bitter resentment that had built over time.

More energy. When I wasn't constantly masking or people-pleasing, I had energy for things and people I genuinely cared about.

Greater self-respect. Treating myself with the same consideration I show others fundamentally shifted my relationship with myself.

Why You Should Consider "Me Too"

If any of this resonates, know that you don't have to keep living this way. You don't have to exhaust yourself trying to earn love and acceptance. You don't have to hide who you are to keep others comfortable.

You matter. Your needs matter. Your boundaries matter. Your authentic self—quirks, limitations, and all—is worthy of love and respect.

"Me too" isn't selfish—it's sustainable. It's the difference between burning out trying to be everything to everyone and creating space for genuine, lasting connections.

It's the difference between performing worthiness and believing you're worthy—just as you are.

Questions for Reflection

I'll leave you with a couple of questions that made me pause when I first encountered them:

If your best friend lived the way you're living right now—constantly saying yes when they mean no, hiding their true needs, and exhausting themselves for others' approval—what would you advise them?

What would shift in your life if you genuinely believed you deserve the same level of care, consideration, and respect that you give to others?

Take some time with these questions. Sit with them. Let them marinate.

Because here's the thing: you don't need anyone's permission to start treating yourself kindly. You don't need to earn the right to have boundaries. You don't need to be "fixed" or "better" to deserve love and respect.

You just need to start believing that you matter too.

Me too.

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What resonated with you most in this post? Are you ready to explore what "me too" might look like in your life? I'd love to hear from you in the comments below.