The Battle I Fought in Secret

We all have those battles we fight in private. You know, the kind you wouldn’t even admit to your closest friend over margaritas. My secret war wasn’t against a toxic partner or a big sweeping life event. No, it was quieter, sneakier. It lived in silences, in too-curated selfies, in “haha sure, whatever works for you” texts. My battle? People-pleasing. And for years, it was the third party in all of my relationships.

I know what you’re thinking: Really, Harper, people-pleasing? That’s it? But let me tell you—this wasn’t the sweet, sitcom version of bending over backward to make everyone happy. This was a masterclass in self-sabotage dressed up as “being accommodating.” It wasn’t cute. It was exhausting. And like all bad habits, it took little pieces of me with it every time I let someone else’s wants take over my own.

Here’s how I fought my secret battle, learned to stop pleasing and start living, and, most importantly, how my relationships transformed when I did.

Act One: Stuck on Mute

Let me paint you a picture: it’s a Thursday night, and I’m sitting across from Taylor—a guy I’d been seeing for two months—at a trendy Austin taco spot. He’s raving about a podcast that sounds…fine? I guess? I smile and nod, pretending to care. Then he says the thing that should’ve been my cue to laugh in disbelief: “Let’s go to that cryptocurrency lecture next week. It’ll be fun!”

Let’s be clear: I don’t do crypto. The closest I get to blockchain is hanging fairy lights at a friend’s backyard birthday party. But what did I say? “Of course, that sounds great!”

Spoiler alert: It wasn’t great. It was a two-hour snoozefest filled with terms like “decentralized finance” and “NFT utility,” all while Taylor looked enraptured, occasionally whispering, “Isn’t this fascinating?” I’d smile and nod, ignoring the gnawing displeasure in my stomach.

Looking back now, it wasn’t about Taylor or crypto (although, side note: WHY). It was about my fear of being disagreeable, of rocking the boat, of being “too difficult.” I went with the flow so much that I completely forgot I was allowed to swim against the current. The battle, as it turns out, wasn’t with other people. It was with my own voice, the one I kept muting for the sake of harmony.

Act Two: When Pleasing Costs You

The cost of people-pleasing doesn’t hit you all at once. It’s more like interest on a debt—you wake up one day and realize you’re emotionally bankrupt. For me, it came in late-night realizations like:

  • Why am I always the one adjusting my schedule for “what works for them”?
  • Why do I tone down my opinions or laugh at jokes I don’t even find funny?
  • When was the last time someone asked what I wanted?

The answer to the last one? Too long ago.

In one particularly illuminating moment, my mom asked me why I hadn’t RSVPed to our family reunion. “It’s just…I don’t want to upset Scott if I spend the weekend away,” I said, referring to the guy I was dating at the time. “Honey,” she replied, biting into a fried egg (always dramatic, that woman), “It sounds like you haven’t RSVP’d to your own life.”

Ouch. Moms, man. Brutal, but she wasn’t wrong. People-pleasing wasn’t just hurting me; it was hurting my relationships. I realized that no one was truly seeing me, because I wasn’t showing up as my authentic self. I was exhausted from trying to be the “chill girl,” the “yes, anything’s fine” partner, and the “cool, whatever works for the group” friend.

Act Three: The Turning Point

I wish I could tell you I had one of those flashy movie breakthroughs. Cue the protagonist throwing up her hands in defiance, delivering a dramatic monologue about self-worth while a Sarah Bareilles anthem plays in the background. But real change is quieter. Slower. Awkward, even.

My turning point started small—a tiny rebellion during date night. The guy I was seeing casually suggested we should “just order burgers again for dinner.” Burgers. Again. And what I blurted out next surprised even me: “Actually…the thought of another burger right now makes me want to jump into Lady Bird Lake. Let’s get Indian instead?”

You’d think I’d just admitted I wanted to overthrow the government based on the shock on his face. But you know what? He laughed. He went along with it. And for the first time, I tasted chicken tikka that wasn’t seasoned with silent resentment.

This tiny act snowballed. I started practicing my “no,” saying things like:
- "No, I’m not a fan of horror movies. Let’s pick something we’ll both enjoy.”
- "Actually, I don’t eat seafood—do you mind if I opt out of sushi night?”
- "I don’t want to hang out tonight; let’s plan for another time."

I won’t lie: It was terrifying at first. My anxiety-made-me-do-it smile threatened to creep back in more times than I’d like to admit. But guess what? Nobody stormed off dramatically. Nobody ended things. In fact, the people in my life started appreciating my honesty. When you show up as yourself, you’re giving others the chance to really connect with you—faults, quirks, preferences, and all.

Act Four: Tools for Winning the Battle

Here’s what worked for me during my un-pleasing rehabilitation process. Spoiler: You don’t need any self-help books or dramatic life coaching montages to start.

  1. Pause Before You Reply: When someone asks, “Does that work for you?” take a second. Don’t respond in auto-pilot mode. Ask yourself, “Wait—does this actually work for me?”

  2. Practice Saying No (Out Loud): Start small. “No, I’m not free that day.” “No, I don’t want pineapple on my pizza.” No is a complete sentence—but if that feels jarring at first, ease in with soft phrases like, “I’d rather not,” or “That doesn’t work for me right now.”

  3. Stick to Your Comfort Zone Once in a While: Instead of compromising at every turn, take charge. Suggest the restaurant. Pick the movie. Plan the date. It doesn’t make you bossy—it makes you engaged in the relationship.

  4. Remember, It’s OK to Disappoint People: Hard truth: Even if you twist yourself into a pretzel to keep others happy, they still might complain. Humans are funny that way. So you might as well be true to yourself.

  5. Reflect Without Judgment: If people-pleasing is more of a reflex than a choice (as it was for me), give yourself grace. Notice when it happens, reflect on why it happened, and use it as motivation to try differently next time.

Act Five: The Big Lesson

Here’s what I learned on the other side of my secret battle: People-pleasing might seem like a way to build relationships, but all it really does is rob you of yourself. And if you’re not fully showing up in your own life, you’re giving others a poorly lit version of who you are—like watching an HD movie on a tube TV. No one needs that.

You deserve to take up space. Your preferences, opinions, and quirks matter, and the people worth keeping around will celebrate them. Whether it’s sitting through hours of crypto-talk (seriously, never again) or biting your tongue to avoid conflict, remember this: Being liked isn’t the same as being loved.

So stop RSVPing to someone else’s life. Show up to yours, unapologetically. Trust me, it feels a million times better than fake-laughing at another bad joke about Bitcoin.