How Do You Learn to Stop People-Pleasing Without Feeling Like a Jerk?

If saying “no” sends a bolt of panic down your spine…If advocating for yourself feels like you’re somehow being rude, selfish, or “too much”…

Then you’re not alone and you are not broken.

The biggest thing you learn from the book Fawning by Ingrid Clayton is

People-Pleasing is a Survival Skill

Clayton expands on the concept originally coined by Pete Walker:

Fawning is a way we seek safety in the face of exploitation, shame, neglect, abuse, or other harm.

We all know fight, flight, and freeze. Fawning is the fourth trauma response and it’s often the only one that feels safe.

It shows up as:

• Saying yes when everything inside you screams no

• Being agreeable to avoid conflict

• Trying to anticipate others’ needs so you don’t disappoint them

• Apologizing just for existing

• Putting everyone else first to stay “likable”

Clayton says:

Fawning is “playing life” — performing normalcy, pleasantness, or agreeableness even when you’re terrified.

Why Stopping Feels Like You’re Being a Jerk

Clayton explains that if fawning is how you survived, then the moment you stop doing it, your nervous system assumes you’re in danger.

That’s why saying “no” makes you feel like you’re:

• hurting someone

• disappointing someone

• being “difficult”

• breaking the rules

• betraying what you were taught

You’re not being a jerk. You’re violating a survival strategy.

And That Strategy Was Reinforced Everywhere

It not a personal flaw when it is systemically rewarded:

Patriarchy

“Good women” are taught to be agreeable, accommodating, and small. These become rehearsed fawning behaviors.

Cultural Norms

“Respect your elders.” “Don’t talk back.” “Be nice.”

Translation: Obedience equals safety.

Racism & Social Hierarchies

Code-switching, staying “nonthreatening,” and over-accommodating to avoid stereotypes — all forms of fawning. When entire systems reward compliance, of course pushing back feels wrong.

So, How Do You Stop People-Pleasing Without Feeling Like a Jerk?

In the book, Clayton offers a path back to yourself.

Here are the core ideas pulled from her work:

1. Recognize that fawning kept you safe

Before you change anything, respect the strategy that protected you. You were surviving. Step one is self-compassion.

2. Start with micro-boundaries

You don’t jump from “always say yes” to “I demand what I deserve.”

Clayton encourages baby steps:

• “Let me get back to you.”

• “I don’t have capacity today.”

• “I can help with X, not Y.”

These tiny boundaries retrain your nervous system to tolerate honesty.

3. Expect guilt But don’t let it guide your behavior

The guilt is not a sign you’re doing something wrong. It’s a sign you’re doing something new. Clayton explains it this way:

Guilt is the ache of old survival patterns, not the truth of who you are.

Let the guilt come.Let it pass.Act according to your values, not your fear.

4. Redefine “nice”

People-pleasing feels moral, but Clayton reminds us:

Self-abandonment is not kindness.

Being honest is kind. Having boundaries is kind. Letting people see the real you is kind.

5. Build tolerance for disappointing other people

This is the hardest part - learning to sit with the discomfort of someone else’s tension. You don’t have to rescue the relationship every time it shakes. Healthy relationships can withstand discomfort.

6. Practice saying no without explaining yourself

Over-explaining is a fawning reflex.

Try:

• “No, that doesn’t work for me.”

• “I can’t take that on.”

• “I’m not available.”

Simple. Clear. Human.

7. Reconnect with your own wants

People-pleasers often don’t know their preferences anymore.

Ask

• What do I actually want?

• What feels right in my body?

• What feels draining vs. energizing?

Reclaiming your identity is part of healing fawning.

8. Remember: Boundaries don’t make you a jerk

This is Clayton’s central message:

Being honest about your limits doesn’t harm others — it honors you.

You can be kind and still say no. You can be compassionate without abandoning yourself. You can love people without performing for them.

My Takeaway

Ingrid Clayton’s work is powerful because it explains why stopping people-pleasing feels so threatening — and why it’s not your fault.

But it also offers hope:

You can learn to show up without shrinking.

You don’t have to perform. You don’t have to be agreeable to be worthy. You don’t have to disappear to stay safe.

You get to choose yourself maybe for the very first time!