Un-Nicing!

Unsubscribing from the niceness newsletter. For years, I was the Olympic gold medalist of niceness, a world class people pleaser with a personal record in over apologizing. The kind of person who instinctively says, “Oh, no, you’re fine!” after someone elbows me in the ribs. The type who, when told “You’re too nice,” doesn’t just laugh nervously, I spiral into an existential crisis, questioning if I even have a personality beyond being an emotional support human.

But lately, a rogue thought has been creeping in, a thought so bold, so reckless, it feels almost illegal.

What if I don’t want to be nice anymore? What if I want to be... something else? Something stronger? Something that doesn’t automatically fold like a cheap lawn chair at the slightest hint of conflict?

Now, let’s be clear: I’m not about to go full villain arc. You won’t see me cackling in a dark lair, plotting world domination, or casually drop kicking pigeons just to watch them wobble away in confusion. (Tempting, but no.) I still want to be kind. I still want to be generous. I just want to stop feeling like a sentient doormat with a neon “step on me” sign flashing above my head.

So, here’s the new game plan: Be less "nice," but still generous. More “benevolent ruler,” less “human emotional vending machine that dispenses support on demand.” It’s time to master the art of selective kindness, giving my energy to people who actually deserve it and reclaiming the precious hours I’ve wasted crafting perfectly polite texts when “No.” would have sufficed.

I will not be guilt tripped into conversations I’d rather swallow a beehive than participate in. I will not keep offering to help when I’m drowning in my own chaos. And I will definitely not keep smiling at strangers who cut me in line, because frankly, they need to know there are consequences.

It’s time to set boundaries like a legend, wield confidence like Excalibur, and maybe, just maybe, stop apologizing for simply existing.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some highly strategic un-nicing to do.

And it begins now! This morning, fueled by the kind of exhaustion that makes reality feel optional, I convened an emergency meeting with my imaginary council.

Behind my eyes, nestled in the quiet corners of my overactive brain, live Graciela and Prudencia, the two most opinionated, imaginary cacti to ever exist. They are not just ordinary succulents; they are the Philosophical Cactus Council, the ultimate voices of reason, sarcasm, and strategic indifference. Graciela, sharp tongued and unapologetically dramatic, thrives on controlled chaos and delivering wisdom with a side of side eye. Prudencia, her ever practical counterpart, is the embodiment of "I told you so" energy, mastering the art of selective engagement and reminding everyone that not every storm requires a reaction.

Together, they sit in their imaginary desert called Nzoi, basking in the sun of my subconscious, only emerging when I need guidance on how much I should care about something, because, let’s face it, caring is a limited resource. Should I let things go? Should I deploy the subtle wobble of warning? Or is this a full thorn defense situation? When the world starts pulling at me with invisible strings, when expectations arrive uninvited like tumbleweeds in the wind, or when I need a reminder that boundaries are an art form, Graciela and Prudencia must be consulted. They do not suffer unnecessary tangles lightly, and honestly? Neither should I.

Which brings us to today’s Philosophical Cactus Council, Deluxe Prickly Edition meeting.

????♀?Graciela: "Alright, Prudencia. The time has come. We must be less nice."

????♀?Prudencia: "Define less nice. Are we talking ‘stop giving our last drop of water to a passing tumbleweed’ less nice, or ‘start telling the sun to tone it down because we are not trying to be roasted almonds’ less nice?"

????♀?Graciela: "Somewhere in the middle. We’re still cacti. We endure. We provide shade. But we are no longer out here bending over backwards just so a passing chameleon can have a little moment under us."

????♀?Prudencia: "Ah. So we’re in our ‘yes, you may rest under me, but if you try to get too comfortable, I will stab you’ era?"

????♀?Graciela: "Exactly. We are soft on the inside, but the outside? Fort Knox, baby."

????♀?Prudencia: "Good. I was getting tired of being the desert’s unpaid emotional support plant. What’s the new policy on unsolicited bird landings?"

????♀?Graciela: "If a bird lands gently and with respect, we allow it. If it lands like it owns the place? We deploy the subtle wobble, not enough to send it flying, just enough to say, ‘Try me, feather duster.’"

????♀?Prudencia: "Powerful. What about the rain? Are we still taking every drop like we’re desperate?"

????♀?Graciela: "No. We accept only what we need. The rest can find somewhere else to be dramatic. Not every storm is our storm."

????♀?Prudencia: "Ohhh, I love that for us. We’re no longer a thirsty cactus. We’re a ‘get in line, I have standards’ cactus."

????♀?Graciela: "Exactly. If the rain wants to pour its entire soul into one afternoon, that’s a rain problem, not a cactus problem."

????♀?Prudencia: "So wise. What about the wind? Are we still just letting it toss us around like we’re auditioning for a nature documentary?"

????♀?Graciela: "Absolutely not. We nod only if we feel like it. If the wind wants something to sway for its aesthetic, it can talk to the grass. We are not here for its cinematic drama."

????♀?Prudencia: "And the lizards?"

????♀?Graciela: "Ah, the lizards. They come, they bask, they vibe. They don’t ask for much, they don’t stay too long. The lizards may stay."

????♀?Prudencia: "And the snakes?"

????♀?Graciela: "Oh, hell no. The snakes show up all smooth and charming, whispering about how ‘harmless’ they are, and before you know it, you’re wrapped up in some scenario that requires deep breathing exercises. No. More. Snakes."

????♀?Prudencia: "Noted. What about the bees?"

????♀?Graciela: "The bees are chaos but productive chaos. They come in hot, flailing their little legs, yelling about deadlines, and losing their minds over flowers. We appreciate the hustle. But if a bee wants to have a full blown meltdown about a petal, it can do that elsewhere."

????♀?Prudencia: "Valid. And the humans?"

????♀?Graciela: "Deep sigh. Oh, the humans. The species that sees a spiky, untouchable plant and immediately thinks, ‘I should grab that.’"

????♀?Prudencia: "Oh no, I touched the thing covered in spikes and it was spiky!"

????♀?Graciela: "Shocking. Truly a scientific breakthrough."

????♀?Prudencia: "Groundbreaking."

????♀?Graciela: "Honestly? The new rule for humans is simple: Observe and respect or go trip over a conveniently placed rock."

????♀?Prudencia: "A rock of destiny. A rock of natural consequence. A rock that says, ‘Maybe think next time.’"

????♀?Graciela: "Exactly. We remain generous with our shade but fearsome with our thorns."

????♀?Prudencia: "Selective softness. The desert way."

????♀?Graciela: "And if someone comes along, stares at us, and says, ‘Oh wow, I didn’t think cacti could get this big,’ what do we do?"

????♀?Prudencia: "We stare back. Unblinking. Silent. A majestic green enigma. Let them sit with their own statement."

????♀? Graciela: "And if they try to pet us?"

????♀?Prudencia: "Natural consequences, Graciela. Natural consequences."

????♀?Graciela: "Exactly. Now, let’s sit in the sun, absorb some wisdom, and place bets on how long it takes for the next overly confident desert tourist to make a deeply regrettable decision."

Niceness, as I’ve come to realize, is a social survival strategy, a way to keep the peace, stay likable, and dodge confrontation. But goodness? That’s an entirely different game. Goodness is standing by your values, even when it makes things awkward. It’s telling the truth, even when you’d rather choke on a sock. It’s kindness with a backbone.

And if Graciela and Prudencia, my ever opinionated imaginary cactus council, have taught me anything, it’s that you can be kind without being a doormat. You can offer shade without sacrificing your spines. And most importantly? Some things, and some people, need to learn through natural consequences.

That’s not cruelty. That’s balance.

Because here’s the deal: Being nice is not the same as being good. Niceness is what gets you stuck in never-ending conversations, volunteering for things you didn’t agree to, and hauling a stranger’s fridge up a fourth floor walk up because they promised you “pizza and good vibes.”

Goodness, however, is knowing when to stop, when to say no, and when to let people trip over their own choices without rushing in to cushion the fall.

So, in my ongoing journey to be a person with a heart but also a backbone, I present my official, graceless but effective guide to being less nice, without accidentally morphing into a supervillain or a bitter recluse.

1. Stop apologizing for existing (you are not a walking offense).

You have apologized for some truly ridiculous things in your life.

• "Sorry, I just need to get past you." (Oh, you’re so sorry for the crime of locomotion. Should you have teleported instead? Should you dissolve into a fine mist?)
• "Sorry, could you repeat that?" (Oh no, you’ve personally failed them by not understanding their whisper mumble hybrid language. Your deepest regrets.)
• "Sorry, I can’t make it, I have plans." (Plans being you, on your couch, wrapped in a blanket burrito, thriving in solitude.)

At this point, you might as well start apologizing to inanimate objects:

• "Sorry, chair, for bumping into you."
• "Sorry, floor, for walking on you all these years."
• "Sorry, universe, for taking up this 5'7" amount of air and space. You should have compacted yourself down into a pocket sized version to be less of an inconvenience."

No more. From this moment forward, you are only apologizing for actual mistakes. Not breathing, not existing, not making eye contact for 0.3 seconds too long.

Unless you, like, accidentally catapult someone’s sister into a cattle trough, you refuse to live in a perpetual state of regret for simply being here.

And even then? You’d assess the situation. Did she enjoy the splash? Is she laughing? Did it add excitement to her otherwise routine afternoon? If so, you might just say, "You're welcome."

2. Master the art of saying no (without hyperventilating or writing a 5-paragraph essay on why).

Someone: “Hey, can you help me move this weekend?”

Old you: “Sure! No problem! I love heavy lifting and emotional blackmail!”

New you: “Oof, can’t. I have plans.”

Someone: “What plans?”

You: “To not help you move.”

Look, you are not a moving company. You do not have a U-Haul, you do not have upper body strength, and you do not have the emotional stamina to endure six hours of “Careful! Watch the corner! LIFT WITH YOUR LEGS!” while trapped under a suspiciously heavy bookshelf.

And don’t even try to bribe yourself with pizza. You have access to pizza without carrying someone’s oversized couch up three flights of stairs like a medieval peasant transporting bricks to a castle.

So, new policy: If a request involves you sweating, strategizing, or questioning your life choices, assume the answer is no.

Saying no doesn’t make you mean. It makes you free. Free to enjoy your weekend without playing real life Tetris with someone else’s furniture. Free to not develop a spontaneous back injury. Free to sit on your own couch, the only couch you will be concerned about that day.

3. Say what you mean (without a sugar coating, but also without getting banned from social gatherings).

Old you: Thinks something is a terrible idea but nods politely like a malfunctioning bobblehead.

New you: “I love that for you. I would personally rather be hit by a truck, but you do you.”

It’s a delicate balance. The goal isn’t to be mean, it’s to be clear.

Because, let’s be real, if you have to keep swallowing your opinions like they’re bitter pills, you’re going to develop some sort of rage induced stomach ulcer. And do you know who benefits from that? No one. Well, maybe the pharmaceutical industry, but that’s a different rant.

So, new rule: You will say what you mean. Not rudely. Not cruelly. Just without the unnecessary sugar glaze that makes everything easier for everyone but you.

• Old you: “Haha, yeah, that’s an interesting idea.” (Translation: I hate it.)
• New you: “That sounds… ambitious. Let me know how that works out for you.”
• Old you: “No, no, it’s fine! I don’t mind at all!” (Translation: I absolutely mind and am already resenting you.)
• New you: “That actually doesn’t work for me, but thanks for thinking of me!” (Translation: Please think of me less.)

Listen, you’re not trying to burn bridges, you’re just tired of carrying everyone else’s fragile expectations across them.

4. Embrace the fact that some people won’t like you (and that’s a them problem, not a you problem).

Once upon a time, you wanted everyone to like you. Even people you didn’t like. Even people who smelled like bad decisions.

But here’s the thing: Some people just won’t like you. Not because you did anything wrong, not because you are a bad person, but because some people throw tantrums when you stop handing them free emotional labour like a human vending machine.

And you know what? That’s fine.

People have disliked kittens, chocolate, and Beyoncé, so really, what hope did you ever have?

So, if someone’s mad that you set a boundary, simply:

? Sip your flavoured tea.

?? Nod thoughtfully.

?? …And not care.

(Okay, okay. You’ll care a little. But only for, like, 10 minutes. Then go back to thriving.)

Because at the end of the day, the right people will respect you, the wrong people will expose themselves, and everyone else can go debate their feelings with a brick wall.

5. Be generous, but not a martyr (because you are not a voluntary tribute).

You like being generous. You really do. But you also don’t want to end up bitter, exhausted, and one favour away from legally changing your name to “Overlooked and Underappreciated.”

So now? You give because you want to, not because you have to.

• Sharing your last piece of gum because you feel like it? Generous.
• Sharing your last piece of gum because someone is staring at you like a starving wolf and muttering about how their mouth is “soooo dry”? Absolutely not.
• Listening to a friend vent because you care about them? Generous.
• Being someone’s unpaid therapist while they ignore every good piece of advice and circle back with the same problem for the 87th time? No. That’s a rerun, and you are not a subscription service.

And if someone dares to try and guilt trip you into something you don’t want to do? You will simply pull out your imaginary violin and play the world’s smallest symphony for their disappointment.

?? Oh, what’s that? You’re mad that I set a boundary?

?? Oh no, you’re upset that I didn’t rearrange my entire life for you?

?? So tragic. So devastating. Thoughts and prayers.

Because here’s the deal: You can be kind without being a 24/7 emotional vending machine. You can be generous without being a human doormat. And most importantly? If someone is only nice to you when they need something, they are not a friend, they are a walking invoice.

And you? You are officially out of stock.

Welcome back to the Council.

By now, you know Graciela and Prudencia, the esteemed cacti of my subconscious, the guardians of my peace, and the patron saints of selective generosity. They have guided me through the perilous journey of un-nicing myself, ensuring I no longer crumble at the first sign of obligation, guilt tripping, or a well placed “but you’re just so good at this!” manipulation attempt.

Today, we gather for the final phase, the moment where we put everything we’ve learned to the test. Have we mastered the fine art of saying no without hyperventilating? Are we finally setting boundaries without footnotes and disclaimers? Can we sip our herbal tea and let someone be mad at us without spiraling into an existential crisis?

The Council is in session. ??

????♀?Graciela: “So, are we officially ‘less nice’ now?”

????♀?Prudencia: “I think so. Did you notice? No apology, no fake smile, no emotional acrobatics. We made it through an entire conversation without bending ourselves into a pretzel to make someone else comfortable.”

????♀?Graciela: Wipes an imaginary tear. “Yes, we’re evolving.”

????♀?Prudencia: “Yeah, but like... in a cool way. Not in a ‘I have a superiority complex and own a podcast about hustle culture’ way.”

????♀?Graciela: “Right, right. We’re still likable. Just, like, selectively likable.”

????♀?Prudencia: “Exactly. We are refined likability. Small batch. Artisan. Aged in oak barrels for maximum depth. You don’t just get our energy, you earn it.”

????♀?Graciela: “We’re not out here distributing warmth like we’re running a free space heater service. No more emotional all you can eat buffets.”

????♀?Prudencia: “No more unpaid internships in people pleasing.”

????♀?Graciela: “No more apologizing for breathing too loudly in public.”

????♀?Prudencia: “No more ‘accidental’ volunteer work because someone gave us the Sad Puppy Eyes.”

????♀?Graciela: “No more instinctively saying ‘sure’ and then spending the next three hours contemplating moving to a remote desert to live among the lizards.”

????♀?Prudencia: Nods sagely. “Because that’s the goal, isn’t it? To be kind but not spineless. Generous but not exhausted. Honest but not cruel.”

????♀?Graciela: “To hold our boundaries, say what we mean, and maybe, just maybe, let that door swing back slightly when someone forgets to say thank you.”

????♀?Prudencia: Raises a tiny cactus arm. “To help where we want to, not where we feel obligated to. Because let’s be real, some people don’t want help, they want a free full service life assistant with no PTO and no complaints.”

????♀?Graciela: Takes a deep breath. “And we? We are officially out of stock.”

????♀?Prudencia: “So, what now?”

????♀?Graciela: “Now? We go forth into the world, newly fortified, slightly prickly, still charming, and we live our best selectively generous lives.”

????♀?Prudencia: Smirks. “And maybe practice saying ‘no’ in the mirror. For dramatic effect.”

Graciela: “With a perfectly timed sip of tea. And a well-placed eyebrow raise.”

????♀?Prudencia: “Flawless execution.”

????♀?Graciela: “Legendary.”

And so it is written. And so it shall be done. ??

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some firm, guilt free "no’s" to practice in the mirror. And this time? They will not be followed by an apology.

By ?Ednah

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??Image: Un-Nicing By ?Ednah

??Medium: 2D Animation