If you still do these 9 things for others but never for yourself, you're probably a recovering people-pleaser

Rina alphabetizes her boyfriend’s spice rack when she can’t sleep. Not because he asked. Not because she particularly cares about the oregano sitting next to the paprika. But because her mind won’t rest unless she’s fixing something.

I met Rina a few years ago at a conference on burnout and decision-making. She’s a pediatric nurse, sharp as hell, and one of those people everyone leans on without realizing it. I’ve never seen her show up empty-handed or without a thoughtful comment. But somewhere in all that care for everyone else, she forgot how to show up for herself.

That’s kind of the pattern, isn’t it?

People-pleasing doesn’t always look like smiling and saying yes. Sometimes it looks like quiet exhaustion. Like never asking for help. Like being the reliable one until it eats you alive.

If you recognize yourself in any of the next nine behaviors—and especially if you do them for others but rarely for yourself—there’s a good chance you’re in recovery mode from a lifetime of over-functioning. You don’t need to be a martyr to matter. Let’s get into it.

1. You listen to everyone else, but brush off your own hard days

You’re the one friends call when their world feels like it’s coming apart. You listen fully. You remember their partner’s boss’s name. You check in a week later, just to see how they’re doing.

But when it's your turn? You keep it vague. "All good." "Just tired." You don’t want to seem dramatic, so you pretend the stress is manageable—even when it’s not.

That habit is protective. You probably learned early on that other people’s feelings took priority. So you built your identity around being the strong one. But here’s the truth: strong people feel things too. You just got really good at hiding it.

2. You celebrate everyone else’s wins but downplay your own

You hype your friends up. New job? You’re the first to send champagne. They hit a milestone? You make a playlist. You want them to feel seen.

But when something good happens in your own life, you qualify it before anyone else can. “It’s just a small thing, but...” You shrink your joy because somewhere along the way, you got the message that being proud of yourself was selfish.

It’s not. It’s actually one of the more generous things you can do—for you, and the people who look up to you more than you realize.

3. You forgive fast, even when it still hurts

Someone says something that stings. Or cancels last-minute. Or ghosts you entirely. Before they even explain, you’re already saying, “It’s fine.”

But it’s not.

You just got good at managing tension. Fast forgiveness keeps the peace—but often at your own expense. You absorb the hit to avoid making things "a big deal."

The problem is, it teaches people that your feelings are optional. That’s not on them. That’s the rulebook you’ve been running for years. Good news: you can rewrite it.

4. You offer thoughtful advice but never ask for it

You give great advice. People say this to you all the time. You’re the calm one in a crisis. The person who always knows what to say.

But when you're stuck, you isolate. You overthink. You try to solve it on your own before even considering texting someone. Not because you think others can’t help—but because asking feels… vulnerable. Risky. Like it puts you in someone else’s emotional debt.

So you over-function. Again. And again. And again. Eventually, it catches up.

Here’s a reminder: the people who lean on you would probably be honored to return the favor.

5. You manage others’ emotions better than your own

You’re excellent at sensing when someone is off—even slightly. You adjust your tone, soften your words, make them feel at ease. It’s automatic. You’re practically fluent in emotional temperature.

But your own discomfort? You suppress it. Distract yourself. Push it aside. There’s always someone else to worry about.

This is one of the hallmarks of people-pleasing: you become so good at reading the room that you stop checking in with your own state altogether. It's not empathy. It’s over-adaptation. And it drains you.

6. You do favors no one asked for

You offer to help before people even finish their sentence. You anticipate needs like it’s a sixth sense. You jump in, take over, stay late, say yes.

And then? You feel unappreciated. Resentful, even. But you can’t quite say why. They didn’t ask you to overextend. You just did it because that’s who you are—right?

Sort of.

There’s a part of you that equates usefulness with love. So you give and give, hoping to earn your seat at the table. But love isn’t a reward. It’s a relationship. That distinction changes everything.

7. You check in on others but rarely on yourself

You send “thinking of you” texts. Drop off soup when someone’s sick. Remember the tough anniversaries. People think of you as incredibly kind. You are.

But when was the last time you asked yourself how you’re really doing?

People-pleasers often abandon their own internal check-ins. There’s no space for them. Or they just forgot how to listen. You spend so much time being outward-facing that your own signals feel faint.

Try it. A 30-second scan. Tired? Overstimulated? Holding onto something? You can’t give from a numb place—not sustainably, anyway.

8. You protect others from discomfort but don’t protect your own energy

You keep the peace at work, at home, in group chats. You smooth over conflict before it starts. You explain things gently. You hold space for people’s mess—even when they make a mess of you.

And still, you feel guilty when you need space. Or when you say no. Or when you cancel plans to recover your sanity.

People-pleasers are often raised to prioritize harmony over honesty. But here’s the kicker: you don’t owe everyone your patience, your softness, or your time. Especially when you’re running on fumes.

Protecting your peace is not selfish. It’s basic maintenance.

9. You advocate fiercely for others, but not for yourself

You’ve stood up for a friend in the face of unfairness. You’ve written emails for your coworker who couldn’t find the words. You’ve marched, signed, fundraised, spoken up—for other people.

But when someone crosses a line with you? You freeze. Rationalize. Stay quiet.

People-pleasers often confuse passivity with maturity. But boundaries are not aggression. They’re clarity. And clarity—especially when it’s about what you will or won’t allow—isn’t a threat to connection. It’s the foundation of it.

The point isn’t to stop caring. It’s to start including yourself

Being a recovering people-pleaser doesn’t mean you turn cold. It means you stop being last on your own list.

It means listening to yourself the way you listen to others. Setting boundaries that feel terrifying—but necessary. Recognizing that your worth isn’t tied to how useful you are.

Rina still alphabetizes things. But now, sometimes, it’s her own bookshelf. Small shift. Big difference.

Start there. Start small. Start where you forgot to look: with you.