Why Saying Yes When You Mean No Quietly Damages Your Relationship – And How to Reclaim Your Voice

For women ready to stop self-abandoning and speak up with clarity and heart.

If you’ve ever said yes just to avoid conflict — and then felt the slow burn of resentment creep in — this is for you. In this post, I’ll walk you through why it happens, what it’s costing you, and how to begin speaking up (even when your voice shakes).

The Pattern I Keep Seeing

I see this all the time — especially with women who are deeply relational. They want harmony. They value empathy. And many have been quietly conditioned to believe that voicing a preference — let alone a boundary — risks rejection, rupture, or being “too much.”

So they say yes, while something inside them quietly contracts.

Sometimes it sounds like: “It’s fine, I don’t mind.” Or, “Sure, whatever works for you.”

But underneath that softness, there’s often a tightening. A quiet resentment. A subtle disconnection from self.

This moment — so seemingly small — is where self-abandonment begins.

What’s Really Going On

This isn’t usually about not knowing what they want. It’s about not feeling safe to say it.

Somewhere along the way, they learned that keeping things smooth was safer than being fully seen. That over-functioning for others was the tradeoff for feeling loved or secure.

And layered into that? Generations of Good Girl conditioning — a subtle but powerful inheritance. Be easy. Be helpful. Be accommodating. Never be a burden. Definitely don’t be too assertive. And above all: sacrifice is noble, especially when it keeps the family together.

This kind of messaging seeps in early — through what’s rewarded, what’s ignored, and what’s quietly expected.

The Stories We Carry

Even in safe relationships, we can carry habits shaped by much earlier experiences.

Early on in my relationship — with a partner who is genuinely present and kind — I still found myself rehearsing certain conversations. Speaking them out loud before I ever brought them up.

It wasn’t about him. It was about me. About wanting to be clear. About making sure what I felt could be communicated in a way that made sense — especially in a second language. With time, I felt courageous enough to speak, even if it didn’t make sense to the rational mind… because it was still true for me, and I trusted that feeling. And so I needed to express it — unpolished, but real.

The beauty of it all: Me honoring my feelings and voicing them… helped my husband voice his better too. By healing myself, he became braver in showing up in his vulnerability — which, as you’ll read later on, became priceless for what was ahead of us in our journey.

It was a way of rebuilding trust with my own voice.

That “making sense” part has always been tender for me.
 As the youngest of three, with two older brothers, I was often told as a child, “That doesn’t make sense.” Not out of cruelty — I think they were just impatient with my long-winded, detour-filled storytelling.

But my little self still remembers. She learned it was safer to stay quiet than risk being misunderstood.

I’ve had to work with her gently over the years — reminding her it’s safe now. That even if I take my time or don’t say things perfectly (in English or in German), I still deserve to speak.

Your little girl might have different reasons for staying quiet. Maybe she was met with dismissal or confusion.
Maybe she was told she was too dramatic, too sensitive, too much.

Whatever her reason, it made her retreat — not because she didn’t have something to say, but because it didn’t feel safe to say it.

Just like mine, she deserves the chance to come out of hiding.
To rediscover her voice.

To trust that her thoughts, her feelings, her truth — all of it — is valid.

She deserves to know that she doesn’t have to make perfect sense to be worthy of being heard.

And that real strength often sounds like a quiet, honest truth finally spoken.

A Real-Life Reflection

Let me share an example — a composite of conversations I’ve had with clients over the years:

She’s in a long-term relationship with someone she loves. They care for each other. But over time, she’s found herself saying yes to plans, responsibilities, and expectations that don’t actually align with her needs. Sometimes it’s dinner with his family when she’s exhausted. Sometimes it’s agreeing to spend holidays a certain way even though her heart longs for something different.

She tells me, “It’s not that he’s controlling. He’d probably understand if I really explained it. But I get scared. I don’t want to be difficult or cause tension.”

So she keeps the peace — externally. But inside, she’s becoming disconnected from herself. And slowly, the relationship starts to feel less like a partnership, and more like a performance.

What we work on together isn’t just her communication skills. It’s the deeper work of reminding her that her needs matter, that her desires are valid, and that speaking them doesn’t make her unlovable — it makes her real.

Over time, as she begins to share more — not dramatically, but with quiet clarity — her partner begins to meet her in that space. They begin to co-create solutions. New rhythms. Mutual respect.

That’s the power of telling the truth. Not to get your way — but to be known.

Sometimes this looks like firmly expressing a need to shift the holiday plans. Other times, it’s naming that she’s too tired to go out — even if everything’s already arranged. Or it’s clearly naming that she’s taken on household or childcare tasks that, in her heart, she believes should be more evenly shared.

It’s not about creating conflict. It’s about staying connected — first to herself, and then to the people she loves.

A Personal Note

Rebuilding trust in my own voice — and in what I was feeling — early in my relationship with my husband helped us pave the way for much harder conversations down the line.

We’ve walked through a lot together over the past sixteen years: addiction, sobriety, difficulty conceiving, relocating countries several times. These were not easy moments. But what could have divided us ultimately brought us closer.

And that closeness wasn’t built on pretending everything was okay. It was built on honesty. On showing up even when our views differed. On not shrinking back from what we each needed — and instead, finding a way forward together.

That’s the power of expressing your truth — not just once, but again and again, in the moments that matter.

The Reframe

Saying yes when you mean no isn’t kindness. It’s quiet self-abandonment. And over time, that erodes trust — with yourself, and with the people you love.

When you silence your truth to keep the peace, you actually block intimacy. Because how can someone truly meet you if they don’t really know you?

But when you speak up — even trembling — something powerful shifts.

Your people get a chance to understand you.
Your needs become visible.
Real connection becomes possible.

And isn’t that what so many of us are truly longing for? Not just to be liked, but to be known.

These days — sixteen years into my now marriage — I don’t rehearse conversations anymore.
 But in the beginning, I did. And it helped me find the confidence I needed.

Because this isn’t just about boundaries.
 It’s about honouring your needs and your truth. It’s about healing.

I will always remember something one of my teachers, Chameli Gad Ardagh, once said:

“Sometimes, no is the clearest form of love.”

The way I’ve come to understand this is twofold:

Love for yourself — in showing up honestly.
And love for the other — in letting them know the real you.

When you speak your truth, it gives others the chance to meet you, not a filtered version of you.

Right now, all around the world, women are learning to speak without apology.
To ask without shrinking.
To express what matters — not because they feel fearless, but because they’re choosing to speak even with the fear.

Because courage isn’t the absence of fear.
 It’s the willingness to voice your truth despite it.

And courage, at its root, comes from the word heart. To speak from the heart about what you are feeling and needing — this is real strength.

Not just in romantic partnerships, but in workplaces, in families, in friendships — women are reclaiming their voices.

And with every word spoken in authenticity and truth, they come home to themselves a little more.

In doing so, we begin to dissolve the quiet walls that rise in relationships when we say yes but mean no.
Resentments dissolve and connection is cultivated.

We begin to build relationships rooted in honesty, not performance. Where everyone knows what you are up for — and what you are not. And that creates ease and trust.

And that is not just personal growth.

That is collective healing.

What Practicing This Might Look Like

• Saying “Let me get back to you on that” instead of an automatic yes
• Noticing when your body tightens in a conversation — and taking a pause
• Asking for a different plan, even if you’re worried it might disappoint someone
• Journaling the truth, you couldn’t say out loud — as a first step toward expressing it.
• Choosing one relationship where you practice being just a little more honest, a little more often
• When you’ve asked for your coffee to be extra hot but it’s delivered lukewarm, speak up and kindly request your order the way you really want it. (Practicing with strangers can sometimes feel easier.)

A Courageous Question for You

Can you think of a recent moment — even something small — when you said yes, but something inside whispered no?

Was there a physical sensation that came with the no? A contraction in the heart, or an off feeling in the belly? Don’t worry if you can’t name it, just be curious. These early indications can help us become more attuned to our quiet no’s — sometimes they show up in the body before we recognize them in the mind.

Next, ask yourself: what was that quiet “no” trying to protect, or honour?

If you feel ready, revisit that moment gently. Let yourself say — just for your own ears — what you really wanted to express.

You might even write it down first. Let it come out unpolished. Not perfect. Just real.

When a lot of feelings are involved, it’s natural to not know exactly what’s bothering you — and yet, the message is still clear: I don’t want this. And that is a fully valid reason to say no.

Next step? If it feels right — bring it into a conversation. But choose a setting where your nervous system can soften. For me, that might be a cozy corner on the couch, or a walk on the beach. For you, it might be different.

You might even light a candle or take three grounding breaths before beginning — small rituals that let your system know: this is safe now.

Let this be a soft beginning. Not a performance. Just your truth, rising.

And if your voice trembles, or you don’t get it perfectly right — that’s okay. Your truth is still worth hearing.

I’m right here, gently cheering you on. In your courage. In your clarity. In your becoming.

A Final Thought

Let this not be the end of a post — but the beginning of something softer, truer, and more alive in you.

Your voice matters. Even when it shakes. Even when it’s messy. Even when it comes out later than you’d hoped.

Each time you choose honesty over habit, each time you honour your body’s cues or speak your truth aloud — you build new pathways of trust. With yourself. With others. With life.

And the beauty of it? You don’t have to do it perfectly. You just have to begin.

One truth at a time.

From my journey to yours,

Corinne, x

P.S. When you’re ready to stop abandoning yourself and speak up with clarity and heart, here are a few ways I can support you:

• Stay tuned for more blog posts and YouTube videos like this one — to keep exploring these ideas
• Work with me — through 1:1 coaching, workshops and retreats.