Some plans only feel like a good idea while you’re agreeing to them.
When you said yes, you were in a good mood: generous, energized, maybe a little high on life. Then the day arrives and the plan doesn’t look so great anymore. But here you are, trapped by a yes your past self gave on behalf of both of you.
Your good-mood self signs the deal. Your tired self has to show up for it.
Normally my advice is simple: don’t do it. Tell people you don’t feel like it, and they’ll get over it. I still think that’s a valid move when the stakes allow it. A party. A trip you haven’t paid for yet. Anything where backing out won’t seriously hurt the person you committed to.
Sometimes, though, you can’t back out, because backing out would go against your values. Then there’s only one thing left. Suck it up and go.
This piece is about how you don’t just go. You go, and you actually like it.
The candle booth
A few weeks ago, a friend called me with a favor.
He’d recently started making aroma candles at home. And honestly? They’re good: high quality, beautiful design, lovely scents. But they’d never left his apartment. He just made them and sent them to friends.
Then an opportunity came up. There was a pop-up show at a popular local fashion boutique where he could present his brand for the first time. The problem was that he’d already planned a trip to London that same weekend. He needed someone to stand at his booth for a whole day, sell candles, talk to people and be the face of the brand.
I think he called me because I’m social and I can talk to people. But even on the call, he hedged. “Listen, I know this probably isn’t your thing. I’ve got another friend going. I’ll keep you as backup.”
Quick side note. These days, the people in my life know I have serious boundaries. I don’t do things I don’t want to do, favors included. That took work. Just five years ago, I was everyone’s go-to guy for favors, always going the extra mile for someone else. Slowly, I learned that lesson.
So normally I’d have declined on the spot. Me at a candle booth at a fashion pop-up, chatting all day with the crowd that goes to these things? That doesn’t sound like me. And my weekends are full of sports, routines and squeezing in time with friends. I never leave empty time. I don’t like it.
But I’m going through my own little renaissance right now. Part of it is a mission: be more social, open up to people a bit more, let myself experience things. Be a little more of a yes person. Not for everything, just for experiences.
So I said, “No, no, no. You know what? That’s a great idea. I’ll do it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, of course.”
I also wanted to help him. His candles are great and he’s a great guy. And I’m good at selling and good with people. It drains me, but I’m good at it. It seemed perfect: out of my comfort zone, new people, done.
A couple of weeks later he called again. The other friend, a photographer, had landed a paid gig that day. The backup was now the plan.
“Okay,” I said. “Great. I’ll do it.”
3 a.m.
Then the week before the event came, and I did the math.
I was about to fly abroad for weeks. I had to pack and prep, get through a ton of work and catch up on workouts. I also had to clean my place because people were coming over Sunday evening. And the whole of Saturday was gone.
The pressure crept in. Not much, just a little. It’s fine, I kept telling myself. It’s fine.
Then came Friday night. I fell asleep, and at 3 a.m. my eyes snapped open.
My brain was going mad. What the hell did I agree to? I’m going to waste my entire day talking to annoying people. I’ll burn my energy, lose my time, end up wrecked. Why didn’t I just say no? He knows tons of people from that fashion world who’d love this. I’m not interested in mingling with that crowd at this point in my life. So why?
I lay there for half an hour replaying what a horrible decision I’d made. I felt robbed of my time, my plans, even my right to lie on the couch.
And I knew this feeling. I’d felt it a hundred times.
The old loop
Back when I said yes to everything, it always went the same way. I’d agree to something I didn’t actually want to do. Maybe I wanted to be liked. Maybe I thought my value came from being the guy you can always count on. Either way, inside, I didn’t want it.
So when the day came, I showed up annoyed at the situation and at myself for being there. And it showed. I rushed. I radiated irritation. I made the people around me feel bad, and they gave it right back. I fucked up the mood for myself and everyone else.
Resentment is contagious. You bring it in, and it comes back to you doubled.
It was the same pattern, over and over.
The conversation with myself
So there I was at 3:30 a.m., a guy who doesn’t do the overthinking night shift anymore, and I stopped.
Okay. Wait. Why did you agree to this? You’re not that boy who said yes so people would like him. You say no all the time now. So why this one?
And I remembered.
I said yes because I’d find time for all my productive stuff anyway. What I wouldn’t get otherwise was a day in a completely different world. And it was never really about the people I’d meet.
It’s about the version of me that shows up there.
That’s the playful one, the one describing the scent of a candle to a stranger. The one who sells, which, honestly, I’ve loved doing my whole life. I’d get a unique Saturday among people who would hopefully be cool and positive. And if they weren’t? So what. It’s about what I get to see of myself in a new situation.
That was one.
Two: I had exactly two options. The first was to make peace with what was happening, find the reasons it could be good, and try to enjoy it. The second was to keep stewing and lie awake another hour. Then I’d wake up groggy and frustrated, have a shit Saturday, bring bad energy and do a bad job at the booth. That’s not good for anyone, and mostly it’s not good for me. Forget other people for a second. This one’s about me.
So right there, at 3:30 in the morning, I told myself to stop. Just stop. Don’t repeat a pattern when you already know how it ends. You’ll hate the whole day and fill yourself with poison.
This is happening. You’re going. That’s what Saturday looks like, and that’s perfectly okay. Sunday is all yours.
And it worked. I fell asleep.
Saturday
I woke up feeling the way I usually do, good and happy to be awake.
And I had the most amazing day. Honestly. I was beaming all day. I made a shit ton of sales, and anyone who’s done sales knows how good that feels. I talked to all kinds of people. I traded energy with creators. I ran into old friends I hadn’t seen in ages.
Did I come home drained to the bone from all the talking and mingling? Absolutely. But I was okay.
And I proved to myself, once again, that I can shape whatever I set my mind to. Life doesn’t happen to me. What counts is how I respond and the energy I bring.
The more good weather I bring into my life, the more sunny days I get.
I know we’ve all heard this before. It sound like a sticker on a mug. But hearing it isn’t the point. The point is that moment at 3 a.m. when you’re lying there beating yourself up over a decision, something you said, something you agreed to. It’s about what you do with that moment.
Because the choice is already made. You said yes. You committed. You paid for the trip.
And listen, I’ve backed out of trips I’d already paid for, and I’ll do it again if I decide to. But I’m talking about the things that are happening, where you’re going no matter what. Once that’s true, dragging your disappointment along is the dumbest thing you can do. You do it to yourself and to the people around you, and they hand it right back. It’s a loop that gives you nothing but more of the same.
So if you’re stuck with a yes your good-mood self gave, you’ve got two ways out. Don’t go, if the situation allows it. And if it doesn’t:
Trust the version of you that said yes.
Remind yourself how often you dreaded a social thing and ended up glad you went. If you go in fighting it, you get exactly what you brought. If you go in at peace with where you are, and find the reason this could actually be good for you, there’s a real chance it will be.
And isn’t that the whole point? Good experiences.
