The Courage to Tell the Truth After You’ve Already Said Yes
Sometimes we say yes to something with genuine excitement…
Only to realize later that it’s not actually the right fit. Then comes the hard part: what do we do with this newfound clarity?
I was recently asking myself this exact question.
I had committed to a collaborative project with a close friend and peer in the coaching world. The idea of collaborating was exciting and full of possibilities. The plan was to create a full series of in-person workshops where we could bring the somatic tools and practices we’ve learned from The Hendricks Institute to more people and practice together, in person.
Moving full speed ahead, we started weekly meetings to plan the content and program structure. A brand photo shoot was arranged. The website was built. Flyers were made. Dates were set.
Things were fully coming together.
T-2 weeks before our first session, I felt a clear, full-body ‘no’ that I could not ignore.
Even though this was a project I wanted to do in my heart, I realized during an eye-opening journaling session that my body was telling me ‘no’. This project wasn’t actually aligned with my current priorities and I couldn’t move forward with full integrity.
My first thought was, “Wait, I don’t want this to be true. Can I ignore this little voice and keep pushing it down?”
At first glance, it looked easier to ignore my gut knowing and push forward honoring my initial commitment. Then I could avoid having a hard conversation or the risk of disappointing my friend.
But the longer I’ve done this work, the more I’ve learned the hard way: when I have a body feeling about something (my intuition), it’s actually more harmful to ignore it than to face it and tell the truth.
So I knew the real question wasn’t whether to tell the truth. It was how to tell it in a way that was clean, loving, and responsible.
Two things helped this conversation go well:
1. I made sure she was available for the conversation
Part of this work is making sure the other person is actually ready to receive and participate in this kind of discussion. For example, if she had just finished a long day at work and was already stressed, she might not have had the capacity to take in this news. In that case, it would have been better to find another time.
So I set up a time to chat, and on our call I said:
“I have something I want to share with you, and it might feel like big news. I’m a bit scared about how you might take this. I also want to let you know I’ll hold space for any reactions or emotions that may come up for you. Are you open to hearing this now?”
2. I took responsibility and shared my truth in an unarguable way
What this looks like:
“I’m realizing I’m no longer aligned with our workshop collaboration, and I’m scared to tell you because I know this may feel disappointing. I was genuinely excited when I said yes, but I committed too quickly without fully checking in with myself. I can see now that I don’t want to do more in-person workshops right now, and I’m really sorry for the impact that has on our plans.
What I do want is to support you in bringing this project to life—not as your co-creator or co-facilitator, but in a support role however you need, with you owning it and calling the shots.”
What truth-telling didn’t look like
It didn’t look like blaming her:
eg. “I just feel like you’ve been micromanaging me on the project and it’s making me not want to do it anymore.”
It didn’t look like lying:
eg. “I had a really big personal emergency come up and it’s not a good time for me anymore.”
And it didn’t look like ghosting:
eg. “Hey sorry, can’t meet, can we talk later...”
...and then later never comes, and you just stop responding.
What happened next
It actually made us closer.
She is now running and experimenting with in-person workshops, and I’m able to support from the sidelines as needed.
I imagine I’m not the only one who has said yes out of excitement, only to discover later that the most loving thing is to tell the truth.
What can be on the other side of telling the truth?
More authenticity: I get to show up as my whole self rather than an edited version of me who is trying to be easy, agreeable, or conflict-free.
More alignment: My actions, decisions, and commitments become congruent with who I actually am, what I value, and what I want to create.
Deeper connection: We’re both able to feel a greater sense of safety and trust, knowing we can be honest and real with each other.
Of course, the ideal conditions for a conversation like this are that both people are willing to take 100% responsibility, listen to understand, and speak from unarguable truth rather than judgment or attack. And sometimes, even when you do everything as cleanly as you can, it still may not go well. That’s life.
But for me, I’m learning that I would rather live authentically than pretend to be someone else just to keep the illusion of peace.
Reflection: Is there something you already know to be true that you haven’t said yet?
If you’re navigating something like this in your own life, relationships, or work, this is the kind of honest inner work I support clients with in coaching. You can learn more about working with me here.
