For the past few years, I’ve been enchanted by the concept of saying ‘yes’ to life (yup, kind of like that Jim Carrey movie, Yes Man). The idea of taking on any and every opportunity presented, of following your curiosity and seeing where life takes you just seemed all too appealing — and freeing.

Sure, you might fail, but you’ll end up with dozens of great stories, I reasoned. So that’s what I’ve tried to do this year. For the most part, saying yes has opened me up to insane moments, like starting a new job that incorporates all of my passions, flying to San Francisco to handle sales calls for the very first time, swimming along the Great Barrier Reef (even if it may have given me a panic attack in the process), cooking at a nationally televised tailgate on a rainy day in Mississippi, and taking a flower-arranging class with Jessica Alba.

It’s been a crazy, off-the-charts year that I’m so, so grateful to have experienced, but as I’m sure you could see the moment I explained my say ‘yes’ challenge, it’s come with a glaring downside: When you say yes to everything, you quickly spread yourself too thin, and soon enough, you’re doing everything…in a mediocre way.

Something’s got to give, and it wasn’t until I got the check-in alert that I had to fly to Nashville in 24 hours for a weekend getaway I’d been too busy to plan — while stumbling over piles of laundry, some that needed to be done, some that were never put away from the last trip, and texting apologies to friends for failing to keep in touch — that I realized how out of wack I’d gotten in my scramble to try it all. I thought I’d been discerning, choosing things that mattered to me, but my problem is, I’m a joiner. I like to take part in just about everything, so pretty much any opportunity or responsibility thrown my way I’d say yes to. And when it comes to prioritizing, work often comes first, leaving friends and family — what really matters! — left in the dark.

I’d get angry for working all day then blogging late into the night, never really taking a break, because I’d promised myself that I had to write three posts a week, and I needed to make it happen, even if only for one year. I’d groan about helping out at another service at church — “there’s rarely a weekend where I just attend the service anymore!” I grumbled one Sunday, while simultaneously remembering that I’d volunteered for all of these things. I could just as easily say no. I could.

But part of me also couldn’t. It was the people-pleasing side; the one that derives my worth from being the good girl. The responsible one. The dependable one. The complete and utter pushover (at times).

I never saw Yes Man, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Carrey’s character arrived at the same conclusion*: That saying yes to everything or saying yes to most things is very different from saying yes to the right things. The things that matter most to you. The things that make you come alive, even if they terrify you and you think you’ll be awful at them. Even if you are awful at them.

I still plan on being open to life; I just want to be a little more discerning about it, and gut-check everything I do to ensure they’re things I’m passionate about or things that will help someone (be it myself or a total stranger) grow — and that I have the time and energy to devote to it.

I haven’t quite figured out the barometer for avoiding burnout, but I plan on actively budgeting in twiddle-your-thumbs-and-stare-at-the-ceiling downtime, just to give myself more margin to unwind, think and plan. And just, you know, twiddle my thumbs and stare at the ceiling.

I’m beginning to think it’s good for the soul.

 

*Now I’m going to have to rent that movie. And if Carrey sees no downside to always saying yes, well, then I have just one thing to say to him: Luuuucky!

Photo: Annie Spratt/Unsplash