the year I say no (and mean it)

the ins, the outs, and the shaking it all abouts of 2025

it there ain’t a Lumie clock, it ain’t no vision of mine

“And if you need to, you can always put it on your pile of no,” my manager said, casually. I stared at her, confounded.

My pile of what now? That’s a thing?

As if I could say no enough times to mount into a pile, but the words were spoken as if it were an artefact already in the room with us. Like something I wheel around with me, a trolley suitcase for depositing all the declined invitations and deprioritised tasks.

This conversation happened in a work context, but it struck close to home. A whole pile of nos sounds indulgent, bordering on selfish, and entirely at odds with my natural inclination to please other people by saying yes at every available opportunity.

In case you hadn’t already guessed, saying no doesn’t come easily to me. I’m a pleaser by nature, someone who agrees out of politeness, a genuine willingness to help, or often out of self-delusion regarding how much capacity I have. But I am human, life is finite, and I’m quickly learning that spreading myself thin is antithetical to the deepened experience of the everyday that I am trying to cultivate in the one life I do have.

Even in crisis, I cling to yes. Last summer, bed-ridden with a cold that hit me harder than Covid, I was a click away from booking a same-day return train ticket to Bristol for my friend’s hen do, because I couldn’t stand the thought of letting her down. Fortunately, sanity prevailed, and I spared the bride and her entire hen party my germs.

No isn’t always selfish; it can be generous. It can stem from a desire to preserve your own energy levels, protect your own time, and offer the same to other people. But too often, I shy away from using it, either from fear of missing out or of hurting someone’s feelings, because, like every sentient creature, I can’t help but think the world revolves around me.

I’ve realised that every unspoken no doesn’t vanish. It stays trapped — not quite in a trolley suitcase, but somewhere more weighty — lodged in my body, biding its time until it manifests as resentment, exhaustion, or frustration. Reappearing when I’m meant to show up for something I shouldn’t have agreed to in the first place.

Elizabeth Day can relate,

I’ve also said yes to things I don’t want to go to and then either cancelled last minute with a feeble excuse or turned up nurturing a secret annoyance with myself for agreeing. That’s when you start being perceived as flakey and unreliable and that’s why learning how to say no, when appropriate, is so important. If people can trust me to say no, they know I am fully committed to my yes.

A-HA! There it is — the yes that really matters. But every committed yes comes at a cost: the cost of saying no. (Are you with me?)

I first encountered the concept of a whole-body yes during an online residency with the

Out Of Office Network

last spring. Over four virtual sessions and as many time zones, together we explored what it meant to prioritise life-centred work, shifting focus from work as the central axis of existence to something more holistic and fulfilling.

Championed by Diana Chapman, and coached by her voice from our individual Zoom windows, we were guided through the process of tuning into our bodies, to truly feel that unmistakable sensation of certainty — the vibrational pull that signals something is inherently right for us. A whole-body yes is something I feel in my gut, my bones, my whole being. It’s about leaning into decisions that align deeply, decisions that make me want to move, act, or create.

Our bodies know when to say yes, when to say no, and even when something isn’t quite right that you can’t place your finger on — those subtle nos that whisper rather than shout. It takes practice to notice these signals, to trust them, and to act on them.

Here’s the catch: a whole-body yes isn’t a one-for-one trade-off. One genuine, full-body yes might require saying no ten times elsewhere. To honour that yes, we have to protect the time, energy, and resources it demands. This means turning down invitations, opportunities, or obligations that don’t align, carving out space for what truly matters.

In essence, every yes is underpinned by a series of intentional nos, each one safeguarding the energy needed to pursue what you genuinely want to be doing.

And so, 2025 is my year of saying no and meaning it. No as a practice. No as gut. No as the thing that will create the room I need for what matters most.

While I might be late to the game of ins and outs, in true Millennial fashion, it’s never too late to introduce more intentionality into how I spend my days. So, without further ado, I’m casting my first lot onto my meagre pile of no, and my dominating (for now) pile of yes for 2025 — both of which I hope to grow to gigantic proportions.

my pile of No

Saying yes to plans just because I’m free. I’m training myself not to see blank spaces in my calendar as something to be filled, but rather as rare windows of time that I can choose how to spend them. Sure, I’ll still want to spend much of that time with people I love, but I’m trying to see that space as mine first and foremost.

Feeling guilty for protecting my time and energy. When I do say no, guilt tends to creep in pretty quickly. This year, I’m learning to let that go. Protecting my boundaries doesn’t make me selfish — it makes me sustainable.

“Let’s do something!” texts. You know the ones: vague expressions of intention that never turn into plans. This year, I want to replace “something” with specificity. Let’s do this on this date. Let’s make it happen.

Shying away from my accomplishments. Time to stand tall. Own the work. Be proud. (More on this below)

Texting while walking. A public service announcement: Let’s all stop doing this. (Especially me.) You will stop abruptly in the middle of the pavement or walk in a wonky line, and it is guaranteed to ruin someone’s day. Be a good citizen.

Looking up answers to questions I have (on Google/Chat GPT) before I’ve ruminated on it myself. Sure, most of the time I will be searching for a random fact I’ll never arrive at myself, but I want to keep the grey matter working for a long time still. Let me ponder things first before surrendering to the algorithm.

my pile of Yes

Having a pile of No in the first place. May it grow, and grow, and grow.

£10 (club card £8) bottles of wine. Cin-cin.

Hosting!!! If I could have a fridge permanently stocked with supplies for a “picky tea,” ready for surprise guests at any time, I would.

Standing proudly by my stuff, à la Tyler, The Creator:

“You went through something. You figured something out in a structured format. You recorded it. Not just one take. Parts and parts. You edited it. You mixed it. The label paid some kid to make an album cover and they made the cover. It’s a whole thing.

…I put too much time and energy into this finished project just to put it on Instagram and forget about it. No. Promote. Let people know. Be proud of what you made.”

Solo concerts and cinema trips. There’s a magic to standing (singing, dancing) alone in a crowd or sitting solo in a packed cinema. I want more of it.

Walking tours. Give me context! Give me history! Give me 10,000 steps a day!

Making things with my hands. The above vision board wouldn’t have looked anything like this if we’d had access to the entire internet and editing tools when making it. It’s amazing what you can do with one copy of British Vogue, a world Atlas and the Guardian newspaper.

Being fashionably on time. I.e. respecting people’s god-damned time.

Non-alcoholic socialising & sun-lit plans. Even WhatsApp’s poll feature can’t solve the constant conundrum of finding times when everyone in the group chat is available, because we’re socially programmed to meet in the evening! I propose a new theory: meet in the daytime instead. An early breakfast, a wholesome mid-morning weekend walk, a post-work hot chocolate, or — the ultimate real estate — a Sunday lunch.

Courting my friends. Not flirting, exactly, but lavishing them with care and attention. Compliments. Little gifts. Thoughtful texts. Afterall, friendships will probably end up being our most meaningful life-long relationships.

“This made me think of you” messages. It’s my favourite form of compliment to receive, when someone has seen something entirely unrelated and connected it to Me. And one I would like to extend to those I admire more.

Showing skin. Tights, skirts, sheer sleeves, all of it.

Looking on Vinted before buying something first-hand. I’ve weaned myself off of “fast fashion” these past few years but have had itchy fingers recently. I find that almost anything in current collections can be found on Vinted because someone missed a return window or “wore it once” and got bored.

Brighter colours and stripes. Clashing outfits. Vibrant interiors. Joyful chaos.

Q: When was the last time you intentionally said No? And what was the Yes that it unlocked?

2024 in numbers

These are the last words I’ll say on 2024 before I throw it into the 🗑 where it belongs.

I’m a words gal, not a numbers gal. I have never, and will never own a smart watch. I don’t want to know how many hours of REM sleep I had last night. I don’t want a reminder to stand up every hour (though I probably need it). And I definitely don’t want my wrist to vibrate every time someone messages me.

No, I have avoided tracking my habits, until last year. But I did it with a very specific intention, or should I say, simply, with intention. I tracked my habits in 2024 to see where my energy was going. So, I created a daily tracker on Notion. Simple, intuitive, and satisfying to tick off at the end of each day before I go to sleep. The categories were intentional: solitude (battery-charging time), active movement (loosely defined as 5,000+ steps a day), writing (creative outlets), reading (mindful consumption — actual books, not screens), exercise (yoga, dance, or gym), fruit intake (an eternal work in progress), and alcohol intake (yep, I tracked that too).

Thursday 18th Jan was a good day.

In 2025, I’m hoping to use those insights to say no more intentionally and yes more joyfully. Here’s the scores on the doors:

🔋 Solitude: 179/366

The introvert in me would love this number to edge closer to 300, but apparently, I’m more social than I give myself credit for. Still, I expect 2025 will see some serious me time.

🚶‍♀️ Active movement: 295/366

I did use my legs most days, but knowing that 20% of last year was spent in loaf-mode? Unacceptable. 2025 will be the year of the strut.

🖊️ Writing: 204/366

Morning pages (three handwritten A5 sheets) became my thing, and I’m delighted I managed this for more than half the year. Weekends remain my Achilles’ heel, but hey, progress is progress.

📖 Reading: 168/366

Unsurprising considering how many days I had meaningful alone time, as I don’t make it a habit to read in company. I’ve found great benefit in reading before bed, even a single page, so here’s hoping this creeps up.

🍎 Fruit: 139/366

My digestive system deserves better, let’s aim for some kind of fruit-related redemption arc this year.

🏋️‍♀️ Exercise: 109/366

Not bad. Not stellar. We move (or, in this case, hope to move more).

🍸 Alcohol: 199/366

Here lies the motivation for swapping out boozy meetups with sober hangouts in 2025. My liver will thank me.

That was… a lot. If you’ve made it this far, thank you. Truly. And now I want to know:

What’s on your pile of no this year? What yesses are lighting you up? I’m all ears.

Hasta la pasta,