Hello, my friend.
It's Lily.
I am really happy you are here.
Welcome to Blanket Words.
This little place is for you.
A place to slow down.
A place to rest your mind for a while.
You do not need to be strong here.
You do not need to be fast.
Here, we listen slowly.
We breathe slowly.
We learn gently, together.
Wherever you are right now, I am here with you.
So, let your shoulders drop.
Take one slow, deep breath.
Good.
Let us begin.
Help me count something tonight, just you and me.
How many times this week did you say yes, when your heart was saying
no?
Not the big yeses.
Not the wedding, or the new job.
But the small, fast yeses, the ones that cost you a whole evening.
Your sister calls at nine at night.
She asks you to watch her children on Saturday.
Saturday was your only slow morning.
You say, "Yes, of course."
At work, at a quarter to five, someone puts more one folder on your
desk.
You smile and say, "No problem."
A friend wants you at her party.
Your feet hurt, and your eyes are closing.
You say, "Sure, I will come."
Then you stand in the corner with a warm juice, counting the minutes.
Have you ever said yes so fast, your mouth answered before your heart could
And speak?
on the days you do say the no,
guilty feeling follows you You home.
lie in bed and "Was think, I rude?"
You check your phone, and wonder, "Is she angry with me now?"
You turn off the light and think, "Next time, I'll just say yes."
But look at what really happened.
Your sister found someone else.
The folder waited until Monday.
The party had music and cake without you.
Nothing out there broke.
The only thing that hurt was the knot in your own stomach, at in
two the morning.
If you are nodding right now, you are not alone.
Most of us have a yes that runs faster than we do.
When we were small, we learned the rules quickly.
We heard, "Share your sweets."
We heard, "Hug your uncle."
We heard, "Do not make a fuss."
Nobody told us that no can be kind.
So a small rule grew inside us.
"If I say no, they will not love me."
So tonight, I want to talk about one small word, and how to say
it without feeling That guilty.
word is no.
Not rude.
Not selfish.
Just This honest.
is not about becoming cold, or shutting people It out.
is about being honest and at kind the same Here time.
is something I at have learned my own kitchen table.
We think one more yes will make everyone happy.
And then, at last, we can rest.
But that day never comes.
Have you noticed?
You say yes, and people smile.
You feel good for one evening.
Then the phone rings again.
So the hard part is not that people ask.
People will always ask.
The hard part is that your no was taken from you
so long ago, you forgot it was yours.
Honest means telling the truth.
And a kind no is just the truth, said with a warm voice.
It is not something you do to hurt people.
It is just you, telling the truth about your evening, your body, your week.
You do not feel guilty because you did something wrong.
You feel guilty because you did something new.
I have five pictures for you, all from taken a normal week.
Before we look at them, let your body settle.
Feel the chair, or the bed, under you.
Let it carry all of you.
For these few minutes, nobody is waiting for your answer.
Imagine a small purse in your hand.
It is soft and old, with a little gold clasp.
It smells a little of mint sweets.
Click.
Inside, there are coins.
Every morning, the purse is full.
When you walk, they make a quiet sound.
Clink, clink.
But these are not normal coins.
They are sorry coins.
Every time you say sorry, you pay one.
My friend, your purse looks like this too.
I counted mine once, on a Monday.
Before lunch, I had said sorry eleven times.
Two of them were to a door.
You bump into a chair, and you say sorry to the chair.
That is one coin.
You ask a question at work, and you start with, "Sorry, can I just
ask one small thing?"
That is one coin.
You sit down for five minutes with your tea, and someone walks in.
You jump up and say, "Sorry, I was just sitting for a minute."
That is one coin.
You do not even hear yourself paying.
And then, one day, you really do make a mistake.
You forget a birthday, or you speak too sharply to someone you love.
You open the purse to pay.
And it is empty.
Not one coin left.
You spent everything on chairs, and questions, and sitting down.
When you stop paying for small things, your sorry means something again.
People really hear it.
Keep your sorry coins for real mistakes.
You do not owe a coin for being here.
Now, come with me to the stove.
Imagine a wooden shelf on the wall, above the stove.
On it, there is a jar of rice.
A jar of sugar.
A tin of tea with a green lid.
It is a good shelf.
But every day, someone puts one more thing on it.
A bag of flour.
The big bottle of cooking oil.
The heavy iron pan.
Two big jars of pickles from The your aunt.
shelf cannot speak.
It cannot "That say, is too much So for me."
it holds.
And holds.
Sometimes, at it night, makes a small creak.
One you morning, look up from your The coffee.
shelf is starting to bend in Just the middle.
Like a little.
a tired back.
My friend, your week is that shelf.
You already cook for everyone, and you say yes to baking for the school.
One more You jar.
already work late, and you take a friend's shift on Sunday.
One more You jar.
are already tired, and you listen to your cousin on the phone until midnight.
One more jar.
And nobody hears the creak but you.
Here is the strange part.
You would never put the iron pan on a thin glass shelf.
You would say, "No, not there."
You look after your kitchen shelf better than you look after yourself.
A shelf cannot say no.
You can.
If you heard my last episode, How to Stop Comparing Yourself to Others, you
know that your life is not a race.
You do not have to keep with up every person who asks.
And if this episode is helping your heart feel a little lighter right now,
would you tap subscribe?
It is not about numbers.
It is so that someone else, someone whose shelf bends a little more each
day, can find this place too.
Just one small tap.
Thank you, my friend.
Now, let us continue.
Here comes a little story.
There is a small flower shop on the corner of a busy street.
It is five to seven in the evening.
The shop closes at seven.
Buckets of water stand on the floor, almost empty now.
The air smells green and sweet.
The woman who owns the shop is pulling the metal door halfway down.
Her hands are red.
There are tiny cuts on her fingers from the roses.
Today, she made thirty bouquets.
A man runs up, out of breath.
"Please, just one more bouquet," he says.
"It is for my mother."
The woman looks at her hands.
Then she looks at him, and she smiles.
"No, not tonight," she says.
"My hands are tired today."
The man's face falls a little.
"Come tomorrow at eight," she says.
"I will make you the most beautiful one in the whole shop."
"Okay," he says.
"Eight o'clock."
She pulls the door down.
Clack.
The next morning, he is before at the door she opens it.
She makes him peach roses and little white flowers, with fresh hands.
His mother keeps them on her table for a week.
And he comes back every month.
My friend, that is how a kind no sounds.
Listen again to what she said.
"Not tonight."
"Come tomorrow."
She did not say, "Go away."
She did not pay one sorry coin.
She told the truth, and she gave him a tomorrow.
Your friend asks you to help her move house on your only free day.
You can say, "Not Sunday,
but I can bring you soup on Tuesday."
That is the flower seller's no.
Your neighbour asks you to look after her for dog a whole You week.
can "A say, week is too much but for me,
I can do one That evening."
is the flower seller's no.
A kind no can still hold a warm heart.
Before the next picture, let us breathe together.
Breathe in slowly, as if you are smelling roses.
And let the air go, like a long, slow sigh.
Let your jaw go loose.
Let your fingers rest open on the blanket.
Good.
Imagine a cat on your lap in the evening.
The television is on, very low.
The cat is warm and heavy on your knees.
It purrs, like a small engine.
You stroke its soft back.
Then, suddenly, it has had enough.
It stands up.
It jumps down, and it walks away to the kitchen.
No sorry.
No long story.
It does not "I say,
am so sorry, I just need some time It alone."
just Not goes.
because it does not love you,
but because it knows when it has had enough.
Are you angry with the cat?
Do No.
you love it a little less?
Tomorrow No.
evening, it is back on your lap, purring again.
My friend, you are free to be a little like that cat.
A phone call has gone on for an hour, and your ear is hot.
You can say, "I need to go now, good night."
And you walk away, kindly.
A family visit has gone on too long,
and your head is You tired.
can stand up "I and say,
am going to rest now."
And you walk away, kindly.
Maybe a small voice in you "That is saying,
is easy for a cat, People Lily.
get Yes, upset."
I Some know.
people may be surprised
the first time you do it.
That is okay.
The people who love you will learn your honest voice.
And the cat still gets its dinner.
You can walk away kindly.
People will still love you.
Now our last picture, and the simplest of all.
Imagine your grandmother's table at lunchtime on a Sunday.
There is a pot of rice, still steaming.
A plate of fried eggs.
A bowl of soup, with green onions on top.
The window is open, and you can hear a radio next door.
A little boy, four years old, sits on a cushion so he can reach.
He eats slowly, and very happily.
There is one grain of rice on his cheek.
He does not know it is there.
His grandmother lifts the big spoon.
"More rice?"
He puts his small hand on his round tummy.
"No, thank you, Grandma."
"My tummy is happy."
And that is all.
He does not say sorry.
He does not explain for five minutes.
He does not eat one more bowl so she will love him.
And his grandmother laughs, and kisses the top of his head.
My friend, you were that child once.
Your body said, "I am full."
Your mouth said, "No, thank you."
And nobody was hurt.
Then you grew up.
Somebody told you to finish your plate.
Somebody told you to be nice, and never to say no to an aunt.
And the little boy, or the little girl, went quiet.
But that small voice is still yours.
You knew how to say no once.
You can learn it again.
Here is my gentle invitation for you tonight.
This week, say one small, kind no.
Just one.
Not to the biggest thing in your life.
To something small.
Maybe a second cup of coffee you do not really want.
Maybe one more job in the family group chat.
Maybe a phone call that wants to sell you something.
Say it slowly, the way the little boy did.
"No, thank you."
"Not this time."
Then breathe out, slow and long.
If the guilty feeling comes, let it come.
It is not a sign that you were wrong.
It only means you did something new.
And when you turn off the light tonight, say this softly to yourself.
"I am becoming honest and kind at the same time."
Let me remind you of what we talked about today.
We talked about the sorry coins in your Keep purse.
them for real mistakes.
We talked about the shelf in the kitchen.
A shelf cannot say no,
but We you can.
talked about the flower seller at closing time.
A kind no can give We a tomorrow.
talked about the cat on your lap.
It walks away, and it is still loved.
And we talked about the small boy and his grandmother's big spoon.
You knew how to say no So once.
keep your coins.
Take one jar off the shelf.
Give a tomorrow, like the flower seller.
Walk away kindly, like the cat.
And say, "No, thank you,"
like the little boy.
Be honest, my friend.
Not because you care less about other people, but because you are allowed to
care for yourself too.
You can say no without feeling guilty.
A kind no can still hold a warm heart.
Thank you for being here with me today, Thank my friend.
you for giving yourself this quiet It time.
means more than If you know.
this episode brought you a little peace, please tap like and subscribe.
It helps someone else find this when place they need it most.
And tell me in the your comments,
little no for this what week, will it be?
It can be tiny, like a second piece of I cake.
read every one.
Rest your heart I tonight.
am proud of you for being here.
Goodbye for now, my friend.