I am, by nature, someone who carries a lot of shoulds around. It took me a long time to even notice that, let alone start putting them down.
Before I understood I was an introvert — properly understood it, not just as a label but as something that actually explained years of my own behaviour — I struggled badly with this. A friend would invite me to a big party, a house full of people I mostly didn’t know, and I’d say yes immediately because saying no felt rude, or like I was letting someone down. Then the days before would fill up with a particular kind of dread. I’d look for excuses. I’d feel nervous and resentful and miserable, all before the party had even started, simply at the thought of going.
If it involved staying over — sharing a house, sharing a bathroom with people I’d just met — that could genuinely undo me. There’s something about that specific scenario, no privacy, no escape route, that I still find close to unbearable.
What I’ve learned, slowly, is to just say no to those invitations. Not coldly, and not as a rejection of the friendship behind them. I’ll usually offer something back in its place — that I’d love to see them, just not in a houseful of strangers, and would they want to do something one-on-one instead, where I can actually be present rather than counting down the hours until I can leave. Most people have taken that well. The ones who haven’t were probably never going to understand the introvert thing anyway, no matter how I phrased it.
A Smaller Should, From a While Back
I went through a version of this in my work too, years ago, when a well-meaning business advisor had me trying to record videos of myself and network my way into rooms full of strangers, because that’s apparently what building a business is supposed to look like. It wasn’t me, and forcing it nearly broke the business before it had properly started. I eventually found a different way through — partnering with someone who genuinely thrives on exactly the things I dread, so the work gets done without me having to become a different person to do it.
That’s really just the same lesson, dressed differently. Someone else’s “should” isn’t automatically yours to carry, even when their advice is perfectly sound for them.
The Shoulds Beyond Work
It shows up in smaller, more domestic ways too. The feeling that Saturday should be spent cleaning the house top to bottom, because that’s apparently what a responsible week is meant to end with, even after five days that already took everything out of you. Or the birthday invitation you accept automatically because declining feels rude, when what you actually want is the sofa, a book, and nobody expecting anything from you for a few hours.
I’m not saying skip every invitation or let the house fall apart. Just that it’s allowed to be okay, sometimes, to choose your own joy over a commitment that was never really about wanting to be there in the first place. The house will still be there on Sunday. Your friend will still be your friend if you send a card instead of showing up exhausted and resentful.
What I’m Actually Choosing Now
None of this means I’ve become someone who never goes anywhere or never compromises. I still go to plenty of things I’d rather not, because some commitments are worth the discomfort. What’s changed is that I check first, properly, whether a should is actually mine or just something I absorbed from how everyone around me seemed to be living. Long walks. Real one-on-one conversation instead of a crowded room. Work that doesn’t ask me to perform a version of myself that isn’t there.
None of that is particularly impressive from the outside. It’s just mine, and it’s the only version of any of this that’s ever actually held up.
When you stop trying to fit the shape everyone else seems to be using, you start belonging to yourself instead — and that’s brought me more energy, more clarity, and considerably more joy than any “should” ever did.
If this resonates, you might also like Embracing Your Creativity Without Pressure, or browse more in Boundaries & Self-Kindness.