Why you can’t build a life trying to be unhateable — practice, practice, and practice some more
Or: Why you’ll be bad at this before you’re good
What no one offering a transformation tells you: Between “before” and “after” there’s a long, awkward “during” where you’re not good at this yet.
It sucks. And it sings.
At first it sucks more than it sings.
That’s my “fair warning”.
But if you focus on the singing more than the sucking, the singing will get louder and more frequent. The sucking will recede into oblivion.
That’s my promise.
Take the neighbor who hates my guts.
I wish I could tell you there’s a moment where you “arrive.” Where disapproval rolls off your back like water of a duck’s and you’re free.
Nope. Not how it works.
It’s a practice. And some days you’ll fail at it spectacularly.
However, I can now let him hate me without it ruining my week. Okay, it took two years and multiple ugly moments. I still backslide sometimes — recently over our dogs (hate at first sight).
And that’s... actually fine. The hijacks gets shorter. Used to be weeks of obsessing. Then days, then hours. Now? Sometimes minutes.
How? Putting in the reps. Reigning in Audrey (the autist part of my brain).
Here’s the — much abbreviated — story.
Put in your reps — taste sweet progress
You wouldn’t expect to be good at anything without some practice would you?
So, practice. Put in the reps. You’ll make progress. Here’s how putting in my reps (not just with that neighbor) enabled me to stay level-headed and hold my ground in increasingly intense situations.
Incident 1 — cats
I changed my mind about his request about my cats. His reaction: Pouting, feeling passed over (”We’re your neighbors too”). My internal experience: Throat constriction, second-guessing, days of rumination. What I did: Held the boundary, though barely.
Incident 2 — weeding
My neighbor returned the key to my house over me not doing my bit weeding the path between our gardens.
He spouted judgments left, right, and center. About me, about my garden, about my gardener, ... He was clearly angry with me.
I was definitely uncomfortable, but less all-consuming. And Audrey helps in these situations. Her autist naïveté puts me at a loss for words. And that’s great because it means I don’t react, giving my ADHD- and gifted-ers time to catch their breath.
Later, via email, I set a firm boundary on his behavior.
In that email, I also stated that I hoped, for his sake, he didn’t expect any spontaneous change on my part because that would only lead to more disappointment and frustration. Not because I was unwilling but because of reasons that weren’t a secret (neurodivergence, different priorities, and a worn out back) but I wasn’t in any mood to make him a party to them at that point.
And, in a PS, I told him that if he felt it necessary to return my key, it was probably also time to get their washing dryer out of my garage (after 8 years or more).
Incident 3 — our dogs having a disagreement
When my dog and theirs met for the first time, it looked fine at first, but Nina (my dog) had to escalate her “no”s because Kai (theirs) didn’t respect or even heed them.
That’s when he stopped greeting me.
I noticed it. Felt the discomfort, didn’t get hijacked by it. Even giggled about it. And moved on with my day and life.
Incident 4 — his ill-advised attempt to get his dog to stop reacting to Nina
To give you a good sense of what he did and why it was ill-advised would take too long. Besides, it’s beside the point.
The point is he thought Nina was “challenging” his. When, in fact, his was verbally abusing her over the fence and the path between our gardens and Nina didn’t feel at all comfortable with that.
When I didn’t agree with his assessment, he lost it once more. “I’m not talking to you anymore.” “You headstrong...” And more fuming. I was concerned that he might start foaming at the mouth. Maybe even surprised he didn’t.
So, another email or WhatsApp — who cares.
Pointing out that what they saw from their side was only the final part of the interaction. Plus that I wasn’t interested in a conversation as long as he was throwing out the message before hearing it because of his dislike for the messenger.
He still hates that I have boundaries — more importantly police them — and I won’t humor false accusations.
Possibly he just can’t take having his mistakes and mis-interpretations pointed out to him. I get that. I don’t like it much either. Still no reason to let your emotions run riot.
And me?
I still feel the discomfort. I still ruminate and have fantasies about putting him succinctly in his place (Audrey can be hard to shut up).
But I no longer let feeling the discomfort dictate my choices.
The unsexy truth is this didn’t happen through an epiphany. It happened because I did it badly, then did it again, then again. Each time: a little less hijacked, a little more grounded.
The reps are the work.
Why transformation stories lie
Transformation stories, especially the ones intended to draw you in and spend money, shorten reality beyond recognition.
Not intentionally. Landing pages (and content pointing you to them) are intended to sell. And who wants to buy something that’s hard? Not many in my experience.
Unfortunately, it makes them peddle a myth:
Before: People-pleaser, unable to set boundaries, exhausted
[MAGIC MOMENT]
After: Confident boundary-setter, unbothered by disapproval, free
The reality looks less glamorous:
Before: People-pleaser, unable to set boundaries, exhausted
[DURING]: Awkward attempts, lots of backsliding, uncomfortable as hell
After: Still imperfect, still uncomfortable sometimes, but no longer hijacked
Knowing and accepting this matters. A lot.
Because, if you’re waiting for the magic moment, you’ll wait forever. If you think you’re doing it “wrong” because it still feels hard, you’ll quit.
The discomfort doesn’t disappear any time soon but you get better at doing it anyway.
What’s also important to know and accept: progress isn’t linear.
Some days you’ll nail it. Other days you’ll apologize for something you didn’t do and hate yourself for it. That’s normal, that’s being human, that’s being perfectly imperfect.
How do you know you’re getting better then?
Ask yourself: “Am I doing it more often than I used to?”
The courage-building practice
Here are 4 steps to help you build your courage to set and police your boundaries.
STEP 1: Notice the pull
When do you feel the urge to explain, defend, smooth over? That’s your cue — you’re about to prioritize their comfort over your boundary.
Examples:
Neighbor shows disapproval → urge to over-explain or accommodate
Friend misinterprets → urge to explain endlessly until they “get it”
Family member criticizes → urge to defend your choices or shrink
What to do: Notice. Don’t judge yourself for the urge. It’s decades of conditioning. Of course it’s there.
STEP 2: Use the STOP framework
I introduced the STOP framework in
TL';DR":
Spot (observe the situation)
Tune into (what’s yours to do)
Open hands (release what’s theirs)
Pour energy into yours only (commit)
Remember
Your task is to state your boundary/truth/action clearly.
Their task is to manage how they feel about what you do (and did) and choose their response (if they can manage to respond instead of reacting).
Taiko friend example:
MY task: Communicate my actual intention, set boundary about being told what I meant
HER task: Believe me or not, manage her feelings, decide if she can respect my boundary
What I did: MY task. Then stopped.
Neighbor example:
MY task: Set whatever boundary needed to be set, address any false accusations.
HIS task: Like it or not
What I did: MY task. His reaction? Not for me to manage.
STEP 3: Do your task regardless
Even when your throat constricts. Even when you want to cave. Especially when you want to cave.
The first few times?
You’ll feel like you’re going to die. Your nervous system will scream that you’re in danger. Do it anyway. Badly done is better than not done at all.
What “doing your task” looks like:
State your boundary ONCE, clearly
Don’t over-explain (they’re either willing to hear you or they’re not, it doesn’t matter)
Let them have their feelings about it
Walk away if needed
STEP 4: Document your “Yay!”s
Justin Welsh uses a practical tool to avoid designing his business around the “Nay” sayers. He keeps a “Hell Yeah” folder.
You can (and should) do something like it: Every time someone responds positively to your authentic self — save it. Email, text, comment, conversation — document it.
It works because when the critic’s voice gets loud (internal or external), you have evidence to remind yourself of all the positives to offset the negatives. To remind you that your authentic self does resonate. Just not with everyone. And that’s okay.
Personally, I used to keep a journal with thoughts and screenshots. Moments when setting a boundary felt worth it. Times when someone thanked me for being direct. Reminders that people-pleasing wasn’t actually serving anyone.
When I was well, I often stopped journaling. Not so smart of me.
Then again, like me, you’ll find at some point you don’t need it anymore.
Looking at that evidence time and again while putting in the reps made it easier to stop my ruminating, conversation-repeating autist. It’s now (almost!) become second nature to stop Audrey dead in her tracks.1
Desensitizing yourself from what scares you
When I studied behavior therapy for dogs, I learned about desensitization and counter-conditioning and quickly saw how it applies exactly the same to us humans despite all our cognitive abilities. You can’t think your way out of hijack by your nervous system.2
When something scares you, avoiding it makes it worse. Every time you do, your brain learns “Pfew, I got away from it”. That (negatively)3 reinforces the avoidance and ultimately makes your fear worse.
Face your fears.
It may sound like a cliche4 but it’s the only way to beat them.
You have to experience it and actively notice that you survive it. Maybe something bad or uncomfortable did happen, but you’re still alive for another day.
Desensitization works like this:
Expose yourself to the discomfort in small doses
Survive it
Notice you survived, you’re still okay, maybe a little rattled but okay
Notice any and all positives you can take away (and put in your Hell Yeah folder)
Do it again
Each time: nervous system learns it’s not actually as dangerous as it thinks
How you apply this to courage building?
Set a small boundary, experience the disapproval, notice you survive, notice any positive effects. Once. Then once again. Then one more time. And another, and another, and another. Your nervous system slowly learns: “Oh. We don’t die from this. It’s actually not that bad.”
Mind you, it’s hard.
Every instinct screams to avoid the danger (brain doesn’t distinguish between physical and emotional threats). Accommodation feels safer in the moment. But it’s a trap: short-term relief, long-term erosion of self.
The trade-off you face:
Short-term: Discomfort of setting boundary
Long-term: Integrity, self-respect, less resentment
vs.
Short-term: Relief of accommodation
Long-term: Resentment, exhaustion, loss of self
Mistakes you want to avoid
1. Expecting to “arrive”
You won’t. The practice continues. I still fall prey to the old mindset quite often. I’m getting better — quicker — to get out of it. But I’m not fully consistent. Accept it.
Perfectionism is just another way to keep yourself stuck.
2. Beating yourself up for backsliding
You will backslide. Guaranteed.
You’ll apologize when you don’t need to, maybe even shouldn’t. You’ll over-explain when you know better.
Expect it — it’s the process.
Old habits die hard, they say. Actually, they don’t, I’ve changed and seen old habits turned around on a dime.
The ones we’re changing here, however, have a lifetime of reinforcement weight behind them. Beating yourself up about sliding back is more self-rejection. Stop it.
3. Waiting until you’re “ready”
You’ll never feel ready.
Comfort comes after the reps, not before.
Do it scared. Do it awkwardly. Do it badly.
Still counts. And your brain notices!
(Especially when you deliberately notice the positives that happen as a result.)
The brutally honest payoff
My neighbor still hates me. Probably even more now.
My friendship with my taiko friend is permanently changed. May never recover.
But I wouldn’t want to live without the positives nor the overall benefit: an enormous and delicious uptick in my mood and self-image.
I can look at myself in the mirror (without disgust or even dissatisfaction)
I sleep better.
I’m less resentful.
The people who stick around? They’re showing up for the me, the real me, not the performance I put on for years and decades.
Is it worth it?
Some days, absolutely. Some days, it mostly feels sad. Most days? Both.
The courage to be disliked is about:
Deciding your integrity matters more than universal approval
Choosing your boundaries over their comfort
Building a life that’s yours, not one designed by committee
Choose you. Be you. Unconditionally. Unapologetically.
And do it with empathy and compassion, for you and others.
By the way... remember Eleanor Roosevelt?
She absolutely had the courage to be disliked.
You can grow it too!
Remember, you’ll be bad at this before you’re good at it. Do it anyway. Imperfect courage still counts.
The path forward is always strewn with perfect imperfection.
Ready to start shedding the indoctrination and start showing up as the only one you need to be? Get the Women Over 50’s Unmasking Kickstart Guide — your first step in the unsexy, ongoing practice of choosing yourself.
I always blame Audrey (my autist) for rumination but the other two can be just as bad. On the other hand when it comes to repeating and rehearsing conversations, that’s usually Audrey.
Also known as an Amygdala hijack. But those tend to be a lot more intense than the discomfort/fears around setting boundaries.
Negatively is not a value judgement here. It indicates something is taken away from the situation. In this case, whatever is causing the fear.
Cliches are cliches for a reason. They have a truth at their core. We only dislike cliches because that truth gets over-used, often without any regard for the experience that prompted it.