Ever since I was a child, I have had immense difficulty saying “no.” Pleasing people is an unhealthy habit of mine; the last thing I want to do is upset someone. As I have gotten older, I have noticed how quick people are to take advantage of someone’s wiliness to lend a hand. In fact, just this past week I suffered the consequences of stretching myself too thin, and for the first time in life, I discovered how empowering saying “no” can be.

It was a Thursday afternoon. My day was going quite well. My first two classes went phenomenally, and I was just about to finish off the afternoon with my favorite course -- English History. I walked into the room and noticed that everyone was frantically looking at a map of Britain. It only took a matter of seconds for me to realize that I had forgotten we had a map quiz -- and that I hadn’t studied.

The wash of anxiety I felt was pretty overpowering. I have never done something like this. Forgetting about a quiz? The action was so foreign that it felt like a dream. I sat down and looked at the map I had to fill out. Out of the 30 blank spots, I knew one: The English Channel. So, I filled it in and guessed for the rest (I still do not know if I guessed right for any of them. I refused to look at my score when we got the quiz back).

When I the class was over, I searched for an empty room to sob. Not only was I disappointed with myself, but I had so much pent up anger. For the entire week I was doing work that someone else had dropped in my lap that I failed to pay attention to my responsibilities. When I pulled myself together, I made myself promise that I would tell people “no.” My goal is to do the job I signed up for, nothing else. I wasn’t going to pick up someone else’s slack or do favors for others who would think more than twice about doing one for me.

Yes, it was just a quiz, but it was a sign that worse would come if I didn’t change my course of action. For me, saying “no” feels like I am admitting that I am not capable of doing the task asked of me. For the longest time, I could not find my limit, so my list of responsibilities continued to grow until I failed to execute. That is something I never want to repeat.

I have come to realize that it does not matter how much you do, but rather how well you do it. For once, I decided to make a decision based on how it made me feel rather than how it would make someone else feel. There is still a small sense of guilt from time to time, but I think back to how I felt when everything fell apart and remind myself that I cannot say “yes” if I am drowning in my responsibilities.