Hey,
Tomorrow, your manager is going to ask if you can take on “one more thing.” It’s going to sound reasonable. Important. Urgent. And you’re going to say yes.
You’re going to say yes because you always say yes. Because saying no feels like letting people down. Like proving you’re not committed. Like risking your job, your reputation, your future.
I need to tell you something that took me eight years to learn: It’s okay to say no.
More than okay. Sometimes it’s necessary. Sometimes it’s the only thing that will save you.
The yes that breaks you
You’re already working on three projects. Your calendar is full. Your evenings are spoken for. But when your manager asks if you can “help out” with this critical feature, you’re going to smile and say “sure, no problem.”
Because that’s what good developers do, right? They help. They’re flexible. They’re team players. They go the extra mile.
What you don’t realize yet is that “one more thing” is never just one thing. It’s meetings. It’s context switching. It’s another set of expectations. It’s one more obligation competing for the attention you’ve already promised elsewhere.
You’re going to take it on. You’re going to work nights to make it happen. You’re going to sacrifice your weekend. And you’re going to make it work. Because you always make it work.
And then they’re going to ask again. Because you’ve proven you can handle more. Because you never say no. Because you’re reliable.
Until you’re not. Until you’re drowning. Until “yes” becomes the word that destroys you.
Why you keep saying yes
You say yes because you think it makes you valuable. Indispensable. The person they can’t do without. And maybe it does. But it also makes you exhausted, resentful, and burned out.
You say yes because you’re afraid of what happens if you say no. They’ll think you’re lazy. Uncommitted. Not a team player. They’ll give opportunities to someone else. Someone who says yes.
You say yes because you want to be helpful. To be the person who solves problems. Who makes things happen. Who never lets anyone down. That’s admirable. It’s also unsustainable.
You say yes because you don’t know how to say no without feeling guilty. Without over-explaining. Without apologizing profusely for having limits like a normal human being.
What saying yes costs you
Remember that side project you’re excited about? The one that makes you happy? You’re going to abandon it because you don’t have the energy anymore. Every bit of coding energy goes to work. There’s nothing left for joy.
That relationship you’re in? It’s going to strain. You’ll cancel dinner plans. Work through date nights. Be physically present but mentally absent. They’ll tell you they’re worried about you. You’ll promise to do better. Then say yes to one more thing.
Your health is going to suffer. You’ll skip workouts because you’re too tired. Eat poorly because you’re too busy. Sleep terribly because your brain won’t shut off. Your body will send signals. You’ll ignore them. Because you said yes.
And here’s the cruelest part: the quality of your work will decline. When you’re spread across five projects instead of two, everything gets less attention. You become mediocre at everything instead of excellent at a few things.
But you’ll keep saying yes. Because stopping feels impossible.
The moment you learn to say no
It won’t be tomorrow. It won’t be next month. It’ll be three years from now, after you’ve burned out, recovered, and rebuilt yourself.
Your new manager will ask if you can take on another project. And for the first time, you’ll say “I don’t have capacity right now.”
Your heart will race. You’ll feel guilty. You’ll wait for the fallout. For them to be disappointed. For your career to suffer.
And you know what happens? Nothing. They say “okay, thanks for being honest” and ask someone else. That’s it. The catastrophe you imagined doesn’t materialize.
They don’t think less of you. They don’t fire you. Your career doesn’t end. The world keeps spinning. Turns out, you were allowed to have limits all along.
What I wish you knew now
No is a complete sentence. You don’t need to justify it. You don’t need a detailed explanation of why you’re at capacity. “I can’t take that on right now” is sufficient.
Saying no doesn’t make you unhelpful. It makes you honest. Honest about your capacity. Honest about what you can deliver well. That honesty is more valuable than overcommitting and underdelivering.
The people who get upset when you set boundaries are the people who benefited from you having none. Let that sink in. Your “no” shouldn’t be a crisis for healthy relationships.
Good managers respect boundaries. They want you sustainable, not burned out. If your manager punishes you for saying no to unreasonable demands, that’s not a you problem. That’s a them problem. And probably a sign you need a different manager.
Saying no to one thing means saying yes to something else. No to that extra project means yes to doing excellent work on your current projects. No to working weekends means yes to rest. No to overcommitting means yes to your health.
How to actually say no
Start practicing now, before you’re desperate. Before you’re drowning. While you still have the option of choosing thoughtfully instead of collapsing completely.
When someone asks if you can take something on, pause. Don’t answer immediately. Say “let me check my calendar and get back to you.” Give yourself space to think instead of reflexively saying yes.
Actually assess your capacity. Look at what you’re already committed to. Be realistic about how much time things take. Factor in the context switching cost. Then decide based on reality, not fear.
Practice these phrases:
“I’m at capacity right now.”
“I can’t take that on and do it well.”
“I need to focus on my current projects.”
“I’m not available for that timeline.”
“That’s not something I can commit to.”
Notice what’s missing? Apologies. Explanations. Justifications. You don’t owe anyone an essay about why you have human limits.
If you want to be helpful, offer alternatives. “I can’t, but maybe Sarah could?” Or “I can help with this, but I’d need to drop something else. Which is the priority?” Make the trade-off visible.
The guilt will come
When you start saying no, you’re going to feel guilty. That’s normal. You’ve spent years believing your worth is tied to how much you can take on. Changing that belief takes time.
The guilt is lying to you. It’s telling you that setting boundaries makes you selfish. That having limits makes you weak. That saying no makes you unhelpful.
But think about it this way: when you overcommit, everyone suffers. You deliver mediocre work because you’re spread thin. You become resentful because you’re exhausted. You eventually burn out and can’t help anyone.
Saying no protects your ability to say yes to the things that matter. It’s not selfish. It’s sustainable.
What happens when you start saying no
Some people will be uncomfortable. They’re used to you being available always. They’ll push back. Test your boundaries. Try to guilt you into saying yes “just this once.”
Hold firm. “Just this once” is how you got here. Just this once is how they’ll keep you here.
The right people will respect it. They’ll appreciate your honesty. They’ll adjust their expectations. They’ll treat you like a human with limits instead of an infinite resource.
Your work quality will improve. When you’re focused on two things instead of five, you do better work. You’re more creative. More thorough. More engaged. You become excellent again.
Your relationships will improve. You’ll have energy for the people who matter. You’ll be present instead of exhausted. You’ll remember what it’s like to enjoy life outside of work.
You’ll remember who you are beyond what you produce. You’ll reconnect with hobbies. Interests. The version of yourself that exists when you’re not grinding.
Tomorrow’s conversation
So tomorrow, when your manager asks if you can take on one more thing, I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to say yes. Because you’re not ready to say no yet. Because you haven’t learned what I’m trying to teach you.
That’s okay. We all learn this lesson the hard way.
But maybe this letter will plant a seed. Maybe when you’re working late, exhausted, resentful, you’ll remember these words. Maybe you’ll recognize that you chose this by saying yes when you should have said no.
And maybe next time, or the time after that, you’ll pause. You’ll check your capacity honestly. And you’ll say those two letters that feel impossible but might save your life.
No.
What I know now
I say no regularly now. To projects. To meetings. To requests that don’t align with my priorities. And my career hasn’t suffered. If anything, it’s improved.
Because I’m known for delivering excellent work on the things I commit to, not mediocre work on everything. Because I’m sustainable. Because I respect my own limits, and that makes others respect them too.
I have energy for life outside work. I sleep well. I have hobbies. I’m present with people I love. I’m happy. And none of that would be possible if I kept saying yes to everything.
You’ll get here too. It’ll take time. It’ll take burning out and rebuilding. It’ll take practice and guilt and pushing through discomfort.
But eventually, you’ll learn what I learned: your worth isn’t measured by how much you can take on. It’s not determined by how often you say yes. It’s not about being infinite.
You’re allowed to be human. You’re allowed to have limits. You’re allowed to say no.
I just wish you’d give yourself permission sooner.
Your future self,
Who finally learned to protect my peace
P.S. – That extra project? It’s not as urgent as they say. Someone else can handle it. And that’s okay.
