02 Nov 2026
This month, Ruth reflects on the exhausting business of being liked…
Most people who know me would probably describe me as confident. I tend to give the impression of someone who knows her own mind and isn’t particularly afraid to express it. For the most part, that’s true. What they might be surprised to learn is just how much effort it sometimes takes to be that person. Because beneath the reasonably convincing exterior lives another woman who is absolutely convinced that everyone is cross with her.
I can be entirely certain that I’m right about something and simultaneously terrified that someone might dislike me for saying so. I can hold my ground in a difficult conversation and then spend the evening worrying that an entirely innocent remark has permanently damaged a relationship.
It’s a peculiar arrangement.
Internally, I’m running a small and ridiculously inefficient public relations department devoted to ensuring nobody has ever had a negative thought about me and that department never closes.
I am, I regret to report, a people-pleaser.
It’s an unattractive phrase, suggesting someone relentlessly cheerful, eager to help and has a collection of Live Laugh Love prints on their wall. I prefer to think of myself as considerate. But there comes a point at which consideration becomes something else entirely and I’ve been trying to work out where that point lies.
The difficulty is that people-pleasing doesn’t end when the interaction does. There is an entire second shift, conducted privately, in which you examine everything you’ve said for signs that you may have offended someone. It’s exhausting, being responsible for the emotional wellbeing of people who haven’t actually asked you to take the job.
I can leave a perfectly pleasant conversation feeling fine, only to remember something I said hours later and convince myself it was taken the wrong way. An unanswered message can provoke a similar crisis. Before long, I’ve constructed an elaborate case for why someone must secretly dislike me, based on almost no supporting evidence. Meanwhile, they’re probably making a sandwich.
Not that my people-pleasing is entirely virtuous. There is a darker side to it. I can go out of my way to do something lovely for someone, often something they haven’t actually asked for, and then feel quietly aggrieved when their gratitude doesn’t quite match the effort involved.
Apparently, I want to be the sort of person who expects nothing in return, while also expecting a fairly enthusiastic thank you.
I’ve always admired people who seem fully comfortable with the possibility of disappointing someone. There’s something enviable about being able to say, pleasantly and without explanation, “no, I don’t want to do that,” and then simply carry on with your day. Personally, I’ve got the first part down but after “no, I don’t want to do that”, instead of carrying on with my day, I begin composing an elaborate explanation of my decision, complete with supporting evidence and a reassurance that I remain available for all and any future social engagements in perpetuity.
I’ve started to suspect that some of us have confused being liked with being good. That we’ve learnt to measure our worth by how little trouble we caused. I know that I am good person with good intentions. I put a lot of thought and effort into doing nice things for the people I love, even if sometimes the execution could be better. You’d think knowing this should be enough. But I do wonder how often what I call consideration is really just an inability to bear disappointment. Not even actual disappointment, necessarily. The possibility of it will do.
There is an invisible bargain you make with yourself when you live this way.
You can only be liked provided you’re never inconvenient. You can only be admired for being strong provided that strength never requires anyone else to make an adjustment. The arrangement is impossible, of course. Sooner or later, what you want will differ from what somebody else wants. No amount
of charm or careful phrasing can make a life entirely free from other people’s irritation, nor should it.
I can accept, intellectually, that not everybody will like me. It would be unreasonable to expect otherwise. There are billions of people in the world, plenty of whom I don’t particularly like myself. Emotionally, however, I would quite like a detailed explanation from anyone who doesn’t. Preferably in writing, so I can review it later.
Before I turn forty, I want to learn to take all of this a little less personally.
If someone is less than delighted with me, it doesn’t need to become something that requires my immediate attention. I love the prospect of becoming a woman who can tolerate being mildly disappointing.
Someone who recognises that not every uncomfortable situation is hers to resolve and who can allow a little awkwardness to exist without immediately assuming she’s done something wrong.
It’s not easy, though. Forty years of conditioning is proving surprisingly resistant to a change of approach.
And the reality is that being close to someone means occasionally disappointing them. A friendship in which nobody ever disagrees isn’t necessarily a strong one. You can spend so much time keeping the peace that you gradually lose sight of what you actually think or want.
What I admire, increasingly, isn’t the person who never cares what anybody thinks. That sounds rather lonely, and possibly quite unpleasant to be around. I admire the person who cares but can withstand being misunderstood.
I don’t imagine forty will arrive carrying some magical immunity to criticism. I’ll probably always be sensitive to the possibility that somebody is displeased with me. The difference, I hope, is that I might eventually learn to leave the feeling alone rather than immediately rushing to repair something that may not even be broken.
I still want to be liked. I suspect I always will. I’d simply prefer not to spend so much time worrying about it if I’m not.
And if that means I have to start being a little bit difficult, I think I can live with it.
Although I would still prefer everyone to be absolutely fine with that.
