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. Whilst everyone else seemed to be embracing this fluffy concept with open arms, I was sat there 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. And 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, who put everyone else's happiness before my own, who bent over backwards to make sure 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 house where keeping the peace was everything, or where love felt like it came with conditions - you had to be "good" and go along with things to get it. Maybe you learned early that your worth was tied to how helpful you were to others, or that any kind of disagreement was something scary to avoid.

But here's what nobody talks about: people-pleasing isn't actually 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. That we're not 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 catastrophic consequences, so it's safer to swallow our own needs than risk 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 realise for the longest time was just how damaging this pattern had become. People-pleasing isn't the lovely thing I thought it was - it's actually quite manipulative when you really think about it.

I mean, think about it: when we constantly say yes when we mean no, when we hide how we really feel to keep others happy, when we give and give until we're resentful - we're not being real. We're putting on a show of ourselves that we think others will like.

This creates relationships built on shaky ground. People don't actually know who we are because we've never really 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 constantly over-committed, running on fumes, saying yes to everything and everyone. My calendar was packed with other people's stuff whilst my own dreams and needs sat forgotten in the corner.

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

The irony? All this people-pleasing was making me increasingly resentful, exhausted, and frankly, at times 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 came across a simple idea that completely flipped how I thought about self-care and self-worth.

Instead of "self love" (which still makes me cringe a bit, to be honest), 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 wasn't about becoming selfish or big-headed. It wasn't about putting myself above others. It was about recognising that I'm a person too, with needs, feelings, and limits that matter just as much as everyone else's.

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

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

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

Putting "Me Too" Into Practice

This shift in mindset didn't happen overnight, but it fundamentally changed how I moved through the world. Here's what started to change:

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

The first time I said no to a request without following it up with a massive explanation about why I couldn't do it, I nearly had a panic attack. But you know what happened? The world didn't end. The person asking didn't hate me. They simply said "no worries" and got on with things.

I started small - saying no to invitations when I was genuinely shattered, not volunteering for every single thing going, letting phone calls go to voicemail when I needed some headspace.

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

Getting Honest About My AuDHD

One of the biggest shifts came when I finally accepted my AuDHD diagnosis and started being open about what that actually means day-to-day.

Instead of masking and pretending I was neurotypical (which was absolutely exhausting), 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 do it 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 makes life so much easier for both of us."

"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 vulnerability felt scary at first. I was basically saying, "Here are the ways I'm different, here's what I'm rubbish at, and here's how you can help me."

But something lovely happened: people stepped up. They appreciated the honesty. They started communicating with me in ways that actually worked, and our relationships became more real and connected as a result.

Setting Boundaries That Actually Stick

Instead of being available to everyone all the time, I started being more thoughtful about my energy and when I was around.

I stopped checking emails after 6pm. I created specific times for phone calls rather than being on-demand round the clock. 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 perhaps the hardest lesson: if I don't tell people what I need, I can't be frustrated when they don't provide it.

Instead of silently hoping someone would notice I was struggling, I started asking for help directly. Instead of getting upset when people didn't communicate in ways that worked for me, I explained what I actually needed.

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

"Can we schedule a proper time to talk about this rather than trying to sort it out over text?"

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

It felt vulnerable and scary, but it was also incredibly liberating.

The Ripple Effects

The changes that came from embracing "me too" were profound:

Less overwhelm. When you stop saying yes to everything, you create space for the things that actually matter to you.

Better relationships. When you show up authentically instead of performing constant accommodation, people connect with the real you.

Improved communication. When you're honest about your needs and limitations, others can actually meet you where you are.

Reduced resentment. When you stop over-giving and start respecting your own boundaries, that bitter edge of resentment starts to fade.

More energy. When you're not constantly masking, people-pleasing, and running on empty, you have energy for the things and people you genuinely care about.

Greater self-respect. When you start treating yourself with the same consideration you show others, your relationship with yourself fundamentally shifts.

Why You Should Consider "Me Too"

If any of this resonates with you, I want you to 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 really 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 actually believing you're worthy - just as you are.

Questions for Reflection

I'll leave you with a couple of questions that stopped me in my tracks when I first encountered them:

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

What would change in your life if you truly believed that 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 with kindness. You don't need to earn the right to have boundaries. You don't need to be "fixed" or "better" to be deserving of 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 own life? I'd love to hear from you in the comments below.