Last week, I wrote about starting therapy.

So many of you replied with kind words, encouragement, and stories of your own. Some of the emails were short. Some were deeply personal. Every single one meant a lot to me.

Thank you.

Writing that newsletter felt uncomfortable in a way I’m not used to. I can teach Tableau for hours without thinking twice. I can coach, present, and share ideas with confidence.

Writing honestly about myself like that felt very different. But I’m glad I did.

And over the past week, I’ve been thinking a lot about one of the first things therapy is already helping me see more clearly.

I’m starting to realize that what I tolerate teaches people what I’ll accept.

I don’t mean that I’m responsible for other people being rude, dismissive, selfish, or careless. I mean that over time, people notice what I let slide.

They notice what I don’t address.
They notice where I stay quiet.
They notice what they can keep asking from me without hearing no.

That’s been uncomfortable for me to sit with. Because when I look back, there have been plenty of times in my life where I felt frustrated, overwhelmed, underappreciated, or stretched too thin.

And in some of those moments, the hardest truth is the pattern kept going because I kept allowing it to. Not because I wanted to and not because I thought it was healthy.

But because it felt easier.

Easier to avoid conflict.
Easier to be flexible.
Easier to tell myself it wasn’t a big deal.
Easier to carry the weight quietly than risk disappointing someone else.

I think one of the roles I’ve slipped into over the years is being the dependable one, the accommodating one, the one who can handle it, the one who figures it out.

At first, that felt like a strength. Then this last week I realized people weren’t just appreciating that version of me.

They were expecting it.

And if I’m not careful, I start participating in my own resentment. That’s the part that really hit me. Because it’s easy for me to tell myself a story about how other people keep crossing the line.

It’s harder to admit that sometimes the line was never clearly there in the first place. Or it was there, and I kept moving it.

So lately, I’ve been thinking about what it looks like to change that.

Not dramatically.
Not aggressively.
Just more honestly.

I’ve been trying to pay attention to where the same frustrations keep showing up.

If a certain person or situation keeps leaving me drained, there’s usually a reason. Repeated frustration is a sign to me that I haven’t clearly said what I want, or I haven’t protected it.

I’ve also been asking myself what I’ve been tolerating.

That’s the uncomfortable part. Where have I been saying yes when I meant no? Where have I been letting things slide because I didn’t want the awkward conversation? Where have I been overexplaining, overgiving, or overaccommodating?

nd then comes the harder part, deciding what actually needs to change.
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What am I no longer willing to keep carrying?
What am I going to stop making so easy for other people at my own expense?

What I’m learning is that most boundaries don’t need a big speech.
They need clarity. Things like:

• I can’t do that this week.
• I want more notice next time.
• That doesn’t work for me.
• I’m not available for that.

These simple words sound easy until you’re the one saying them, especially when you’re used to softening everything. But I’m starting to see that being clear is kind to myself and to others.

I’m also realizing that change creates discomfort.

The people who benefited from the old version of me may not love the new one right away. That doesn’t automatically mean I’m doing something wrong. Sometimes it just means the pattern is changing.

That’s one of the things I’m starting to understand now. Protecting my peace isn’t selfish. Being clear doesn’t make me cruel.

And just because I’ve been available in a certain way before doesn’t mean I’m required to keep being available that way forever.

I think this is one of the reasons therapy felt overdue for me. Not because it instantly fixes anything. But because it helps shine a light on patterns I had gotten so used to, I stopped questioning them.

And once I can see the pattern, it gets harder to pretend it isn’t there.

I’m still early in this process.
I don’t have it all figured out.

But I can already tell this is one of those ideas that changes more than I expected once I really let it in.

So that’s the question I’ve been sitting with lately:

Where in my life have I been teaching people that less is acceptable, when deep down I know it isn’t?

If this resonates, hit reply and let me know. I read every message.

— Andy