My phone lights up one Sunday. Some friends are making plans for later and want to know if I’m in. Earlier in the week I said maybe, and now the maybe has to turn into something.
Yes would be easy. Everyone would be happy. But I’ve got things of my own I want to get done, and if I say yes it’s only to keep people happy. So the maybe becomes a no. Nobody’s let down, because I never promised, and I get my day back.
It’s a small moment, but it’s exactly what The Power of No is about. James Altucher wrote it with Claudia Azula Altucher, and I read it back in September 2016. It’s practical, and very personal.
Every yes costs something
The Altuchers make a simple case. Every yes costs you something. Your time, your energy, your health, sometimes your self-respect. So you’d better be sure the thing you’re saying yes to is worth it.
They go wider than diaries and invitations. They talk about saying no to people who drain you and habits that hurt you. And to the stories you tell yourself about what you deserve. Every no to the wrong thing leaves a bit more room for a yes to the right one.
The line I picked for my guide is a long one, and I love it anyway. “When you say yes to something you don’t want to do, here is the result: you hate what you are doing, you resent the person who asked you, and you hurt yourself.”
Read that again and count how many of those you’ve felt this month.
The last part is easy to miss. We tell ourselves a reluctant yes is the kind thing to do. Then we turn up half-hearted, the other person gets a worse version of us, and nobody’s better off for it.
The Altuchers write about their own lives, the times they said yes when they shouldn’t have, and what changed when they started saying no. There’s plenty in there about saying no without being unkind. Some of the loudest requests come from your own head, and they need a no too.
No is a complete sentence
Here’s what I’ve learned. When you say yes and don’t mean it, you build resentment. You end up waiting for it to come back on you, in a situation you never wanted to be in. Sooner or later it bites, whether that’s them or you.
You’re allowed to say no. You’re also allowed to say it without a speech to go with it. No is a complete sentence.
2016 taught me a related lesson. It was the year I spent a couple of months stuck on a sofa on crutches, with plenty of time to think. One of the things I wrote down at the end of that year was about saying no properly. Once you’ve decided not to do something, let it go, and stop spending your attention on it.
That’s the bit people miss. A no you keep chewing over afterwards hasn’t really saved you anything. You’ve still given the thing your head space, just without the fun of doing it.
The other side is the yes you’ve already given and wish you hadn’t. You’re allowed to change your mind. Some people say be brutally honest about it. I’d rather be kind and still be completely honest. Tell them early, tell them plainly, and leave the guilt out of it. Most people would much rather hear no on Monday than get a half-hearted yes on Thursday.
These days I see little versions of it everywhere. Every time I ignore a ping on my phone so I can finish something, that’s a tiny no. No to the noise, yes to the thing that matters. It gets easier with practice, like any muscle.
I’ve written more about the everyday side of it, including how to build the no muscle with small stuff first, in The power of no.
When you know how to say yes to the things that truly matter and no to everything else, you start to shape the life you really want to be living. That’s what this book gave me. It’s one of the 50 in my free guide, 50 Books That Shaped Me, and one I’d hand to anyone whose diary runs them.
As for that Sunday, I got my day back and nobody minded. They rarely do.
