Finding Peace in One Small Word

There’s a quiet power in that word.

For most of my life, “nope” was the prelude to guilt. If I said it at all, it was followed by justifications, apologies, or frantic offers to make it up to someone later. “Nope” was dangerous — something that could disappoint, damage relationships, or prove I wasn’t good enough, strong enough, generous enough.

And then came the long, hard years.

Years where my own needs didn’t just get bumped to the bottom of the list — they were the bottom of the list. Caregiving became my oxygen. My nervous system learned to live in constant alert, scanning for the next request, the next crisis, the next moment when I would have to show up no matter what I had left in the tank.

When that chapter finally ended, I thought the hard part was over. But the truth is, stepping out of that life left me in a kind of free fall. I didn’t know how to exist in a world that wasn’t always pulling at me. I didn’t know how to not be needed every second. Even the good kind of quiet felt strange — almost wrong.

Somewhere in that transition, I discovered a new “nope.” It didn’t slam doors. It didn’t carry sharp edges. It was gentle, protective, and whole.

“Nope” could look like a slow morning at Foxtown Diner with the low hum of conversation around me. It could be closing my tablet at 3 PM because the work was done, even if the world still had demands. It could be sitting in a hammock under a spectacular sunset, even if only metaphorically, watching a butterfly drift past — and knowing that in this moment, I owe no one anything.

And that’s not selfish.

It’s recovery.

It’s life coming back.

This “nope” is a boundary wrapped in love — love for myself, love for the work I do, love for the people I serve. It’s the pause that allows me to keep going. It’s the space in which my best work, my truest self, can actually show up.

I'm all set.

So if you’re in that in-between space — not where you were, not yet where you want to be — maybe you need your own hammock moment. Your own quiet sunset. Your own “nope.”

Because sometimes the most powerful yes you’ll ever give starts with that one small, gentle word.