Emotional DOMS: Confessions of a Recovering People Pleaser

I’m a recovering people pleaser.

Yesterday, I had a disagreement with someone I care about deeply. Something had been bothering me, and I said it out loud. As I spoke, I felt tears rise up, but I kept going. Once I’d said my piece, we carried on with what we were doing… but something had shifted. The energy in the room turned tense and still, like we were both holding our breath.

Therapists talk about “sitting in the discomfort.” I’ve heard that phrase so many times and never really understood it.

(I should mention—I didn’t even know I was a people pleaser until I started learning about nervous system regulation. And I only started learning about that because I was fed up of feeling… well, nothing.)

My usual reflex?
“I'm so sorry! I didn’t mean it! Let’s just do it your way, your opinion matters more anyway, mine was just a sneeze that got out of hand. Please go back to being fine because this tension is scaring the life out of me.”

But this time… I stopped myself.

I felt the anger and upset coming toward me like that boulder set to crush Indiana Jones in Temple of Doom and said to myself: OH! This is the discomfort.

Letting the other person have their emotional response without rushing to smother it in the sugary, fluorescent Gatorade of over-apology? THAT was the thing I’d been avoiding my whole life.

(Also, brain fart: why is everything designed to “make us feel better” always cloyingly sweet and neon? Just me?)

Anyway, I said nothing. Maybe that was a mistake, I don’t know. I’m new at this. A little time passed, and then came the second wave of spirally thoughts:

“This is going to be the last time I see them.”
“They think I’m too much effort.”
“I’ve ruined our relationship. That’s it. It’s over.”

Eventually, the silence broke.
They told me how they were feeling.
And I did something I’d never done before—I just listened. 

No defending. No fixing. No jumping in with “I’m sorry, you’re right, I’m wrong, let’s erase it all.”
Just… listening.

Their feelings were valid. And guess what? 
I didn’t agree with every point, but when I listened without preparing my rebuttal, I could actually hear what they were really upset about. And spoiler alert—it wasn’t about whether I did the x or y they were talking about. It was about them wanting me to be fully present in their journey… and the tiny step I’d taken toward my own mental and physical health didn’t align with their vision of that.

So I backed down.

Wait.
No I didn’t.

We hugged. We reconnected.
Then they went home.

And I?
I felt like absolute rubbish.

Later, I sat down to watch one of my favourite YouTubers (Mammoth Club—highly recommend for Disney joy and fun facts, not sponsored, they don't know I exist, I just think they are amazing) as a lunch treat… and immediately started sobbing. I mean Niagara falls crying.

Normally I’d shut it down with a “what do you have to cry about?” and get on with my day. But this time, I let it out.

As Elsa would say: I let it go.

My body, however, had other plans. After a few minutes, it pulled the emergency brake and shut it all down. I went from full sob to galaxy-traveling numb in about three seconds, and just… kept eating (very slowly).

Did it end there?
It did not.

By tea time, I was spiralling again. Breathwork wasn’t working. My nervous system tools felt dull and useless. I tried finding where the feeling was in my body and couldn’t even feel my fingers. That’s when I remembered: you’re in a loop. I told myself that over and over.

And then, something weird and wonderful happened: I got playful.

I called on the Multiverse.

I imagined a version of me who hadn’t said anything—who’d just gone along with it, even though it hurt. That version felt hollow. I tried the version who cancelled everything and avoided the conversation entirely. That felt lonely. Then I imagined the me who took it all back and made jokes at my own expense. That felt weirdly safe… but also plasticky. Like BBQ cheese slices. Comforting, but completely fake.

So I came back to the version of me who did speak up. And it still didn’t feel amazing…
but it felt truer.

And honestly? I felt proud of myself. “Looking back, I thought my nervous system tools weren’t working because they didn’t bring the same warm, grounded feelings I usually get when I use them on calm days. But now I realise: they weren’t supposed to. They were just meant to bring me back to the present. And they did.

Yes, today I’ve got emotional DOMS—like trying to sit down after a leg day made of feelings.
Yes, it still hurts. But I can feel myself getting stronger.

And just like sneezing the day after one of my brutal core workouts ( you are welcome btw)…
it’s hideously satisfying. 

To my brave, bold recovering people pleasers, I see you, this comes with lots of love from me to you xx