The Grief of Discovering Your People Pleasing Isn't Actually Pleasing Anyone
We tried to love them how we wanted to be loved. But what if they needed something else entirely?
The Encyclopedia of Grief is an archive where we talk about the kinds of grief that shape our lives quietly, often without anyone noticing. This season is focused on the grief that follows the broken promises of modern day life. We’re not here to fix anything. Take what you need and leave the rest.
Some of the deepest griefs don’t come from rupture, but from repetition.
From being taught the same thing so many times that it feels like truth. Be good. Be polite. Don’t upset anyone. For many of us, these weren’t just lessons. They were survival strategies. We learned to scan for danger by scanning for disappointment. We learned to love by guessing. And we learned to keep the peace by turning down the volume of our own needs.
This kind of grief is slow, quiet, and accumulative. You don’t notice it at first—not until your body starts aching from all the ways you’ve disappeared inside yourself.
Learning the Golden Rule is a rite of passage for any elementary school student in the United States. The term comes from 17th century Britain where Anglican theologians and preachers were quietly shaping the moral and ethical standing of modern life. We probably hear it a thousand times throughout our childhood, and for good reason. Self awareness is a crucial skill for thriving in any society.
We didn’t just learn this rule. We absorbed it into our nervous systems. The concept behind the Golden Rule appears in texts throughout history. The ancient Egyptians told a story known as "The Eloquent Peasant", where the ancient Egyptian goddess Ma'at instructs the readers to treat others the way they want to be treated.
If you’ve heard the Sanskrit term Dharma, the meaning is inherently linked to the Golden Rule. As it states in the ancient text Mahābhārata: “One should never do something to others that one would regard as an injury to one's own self.”
This is not a new concept. But more recently, many are beginning to ask whether the Golden Rule holds up in our modern society. You’ve probably seen this meme on social media:
It’s become a cornerstone of Internet culture precisely because it points out the inherent flaw in the Golden Rule—treating others the way you want to be treated only works if they also want to be treated that way.
People pleasers across the country almost imploded when they first saw this. They’ve been following the Golden Rule their entire lives. And who can blame them? It’s what we were taught to do! Maybe back in the olden days when everyone lived in small villages with monoculture, the Golden Rule made a ton of sense. Oh, you don’t want to step in poop on the way to your job working in the fields? Probably makes sense to pick up your donkey’s poop to ensure others don’t have that unfortunate experience. It’s a silly image—but it works.
But now? In 2025? We live in a global, hyperconnected society. Every interaction is shaped by countless sub-cultures, expectations, and lived experiences. That’s both exhilarating and exhausting—especially for those trying to relate to others by using the only rule they were given.
What do we do when we discover that our people pleasing isn’t actually pleasing anyone?
That is where the Platinum Rule comes in—a subtle remix that shifts the emphasis from projection to preference.
I learned about this concept in my end-of-life doula course I’m taking through UVM. We were discussing the Hospice Bill of Rights, which emphasizes honoring the unique preferences of the dying. The Golden Rule just doesn’t work in this environment. Every person has a different idea of what respect looks like.
Our job is figuring out what that looks like, and respecting it no matter our preferences. After all, you can’t know something until you ask.
This is a subtle shift with huge positive impact.
If you’re a chronic people pleaser, it’s understandable to feel frustrated. You’ve behaved exactly as instructed, and it’s probably pissing a lot of people off. Unlearning the Golden Rule and inhabiting the Platinum Rule have been a huge shift for me, and will be a muscle I’ll continue to strengthen for many years to come.
“points out the inherent flaw in the Golden Rule—treating others the way you want to be treated only works if they also want to be treated that way.”
✾ What This Grief Looks & Feels Like
This grief shows up quietly. In the yes you didn’t mean. The dinner you cooked without being asked. The silence you held when something inside of you wanted to scream. It’s in the way you double-check every text for tone. In the way you wait for someone to notice how much you’re carrying—and feel crushed when they don’t.
It feels like resentment with no place to go. Like your kindness has been mistaken for availability. Like you’ve been performing goodness for so long, you can’t remember what your own desire sounds like.
This grief lives in the body. In the throat that tightens when you want to say no. In the jaw that clenches through smiling. In the shoulders that round forward, hoping to take up less space.
It’s the ache of realizing that care without clarity becomes confusion.
✾ Mythic Mirror: Echo & Narcissus
One of my favorite Greek myths is the tale of Echo and Narcissus.
Echo was once a voice of her own. A mountain spirit, wild and expressive. But after crossing the wrong god, she was cursed to only speak the last words she heard—never her own. She fell in love with Narcissus, but when she tried to reach him, she could only echo his voice. Never her truth. Never her need. And he left her behind. Eventually, she faded into the hills.
This myth holds up a mirror to the people pleaser. The one who hopes that if they can just reflect their needs through their actions, they’ll finally be chosen. But all that mirroring doesn’t make you seen. It makes you disappear.
Echo teaches us the cost of shaping yourself around someone else. Narcissus teaches us what happens when we only seek ourselves in others. Together, they show the heartbreak of asymmetry.
✾ Three Ways to Work With This Grief
Practice asking before offering.
When the impulse to help arises, pause. Breathe. Ask: Do they want what I’m offering? Let the question interrupt the reflex. Let consent become part of your care.
Speak aloud what you want, even if no one hears.
In the quiet morning or the hush of a car ride, ask yourself what you want in that very moment. I want rest. I want to be chosen. I want a snack. Whatever bubbles up, honor it. Let your voice begin to know itself again.
Reclaim your power.
Go into your closet and find a piece of clothing you wear when you are seeking approval from others. Put it on, stand in front of the mirror, and say out loud: This is who I thought I had to be to stay safe. Then take it off—slowly, like peeling back an old skin. Don’t rush. Feel the air touch your bare arms. Then put the item somewhere where you can revisit it when you are feeling the impulse to people please.
"We are born into a world where we are asked to relinquish our authenticity in exchange for belonging. Yet it is only through authenticity that true belonging becomes possible."
—from The Wild Edge of Sorrow, Francis Weller
You don’t have to keep contorting yourself to be loved.
You don’t have to disappear to make others comfortable. There is nothing wrong with you for wanting to be received more clearly, for wanting love that doesn’t require guessing. And the relieving part is that others feel the same. You’re allowed to learn a new way. One question, one breath, one honest answer at a time.
If this grief resonated with you and you’d like to contribute to future seasons of the project, you’re invited to take our Share Your Story of Grief Survey. The goal is turning this into a community-led project, and I’d love for you to get involved.
Thank you for spending some time with this grief. Each entry in this library is a small act of remembrance for the parts of us that were never given space to feel, question, or break apart.
We are here to sit beside grief, not tell it what to become. Before commenting, check out our Community Guidelines. If you need more support, the Grief Resource Hub is here for you.