MAMATA SUBRAMANYAM reflects on how her identity as a "nice" person masked a pattern of people-pleasing and self-erasure—and how the uncomfortable work of setting boundaries and confronting her need for external validation became the start of real inner transformation.
On a sunny, cold New York City day nearly ten years ago, I was comfortably seated on the gray sofa in my therapist’s Union Square office, left foot folded underneath me and an overpriced Starbucks hot chocolate cup in my right hand. I was only two-ish months into therapy at that point, a recommendation encouraged by my work manager after her observation that my intense anxiety was directly impeding my ability to work and the quality of that work.
My therapist—a soft-spoken, curly-haired Indian-American woman who started every session asking me, “So how are you doing today?”—had been gentle and patient with me as I spent our first eight weeks together responding to her question with the same stories of traumas and triggers and the struggles of balancing being both Indian and American that I had relayed to my closest friends for several years; this time, however, I was hopeful that by sharing these stories with a professional, I would finally be released of the heaviness I had been carrying for so long.
Up until that point, my therapist didn’t challenge my venting too much, instead validating my emotions or helping me identify pain points I had yet to discover myself. I was growing comfortable with this, and expected the session on this particular day to be similar, when my therapist threw in a bit of a plot twist with a question:
“What is the characteristic of yourself you are most proud of?” she asked.
“I’m a nice person,” I said automatically.
“Nice?” she repeated back to me, her voice suddenly underscored with a bit of disgust. “Who wants to be known as nice?”
I was at first taken aback by her abrupt directness. Then, I was offended. After all, being “nice” was one of the qualities of myself I was most proud of, only second to my empathetic nature. I was glad to be the friend that people turned to when they needed an objective, judgment-free zone. I was the listening ear, sans advice, offering friends and family space to let out their feelings without guiding them in any one direction unless asked. Really, I was a pure Hufflepuff, based on the several Hogwarts Sorting House quizzes I had taken over the years: caring, kind, and loyal to a tee.
I genuinely believed that the only way to satisfy that
internal need was through external validation. And
patterns—even when we have the most acute
awareness of them—are hard to break.
That niceness showed up in my professional life as well—in doing just as I was told, in keeping my opinions to myself, in the results of my Myers-Briggs or other personality tests that often set my colored dot on the way-other end of the chart than most of my teammates—according to the tests, I was all heart, no logic. This aligned with what I believed to be all I offered as a person, in any setting.
More than anything, I felt like I had to be nice, like it was the morally correct thing to do. I was abiding by the Golden Rule taught to us in kindergarten: treat others as you would like to be treated yourself. Wasn’t I doing the right thing, abiding by it? I thought so.
“She doesn’t even know what she’s talking about,” I thought to myself as I walked out of my therapist’s office later that day, Starbucks cup tepid and half-full. “There is nothing wrong with being nice.”
As the week went on, however, I noticed that my therapist’s question unlocked an awareness in me that hadn’t been there before: while my niceness was distributed to everyone, it was often shared in surplus with people who took it for granted or whose attention I craved the most. I gradually became aware that I would push my own needs down further in the name of empathy and kindness to accommodate the people I believed should reciprocate that kindness, hoping that by meeting their needs, they would recognize my worth and value in their lives. The more the kindness wasn’t reciprocated, the more I would make myself smaller to fit, and the more resentment and anger I would feel when my actions went unnoticed. That anger and resentment would build, bubbling inside me like a closed-capped, shaken-up soda bottle: ready to explode if opened, but always capped shut because I was too afraid of losing the wrong people to let those emotions out.
Even then, I subconsciously understood that, while my kindness was well-intended, it was also rooted in a need that I couldn’t satisfy for myself, on my own: a need to be seen, needed, valued, and loved. I genuinely believed that the only way to satisfy that internal need was through external validation. And patterns—even when we have the most acute awareness of them—are hard to break. Despite that growing awareness, I continued to put myself through what felt like an unsolvable cycle: people-pleasing, minimizing myself, and building up deep layers of anger that I’m still working through because I couldn't value myself enough to stand up for myself.
It’s a pattern I’m still working on breaking today, all these years later. To break it, I needed to want to break it, which meant unwinding nearly thirty years of a personality I thought I needed to be valuable, so I could become the woman I had always dreamed of being.
I have leaned into it even more in recent years,
purple-penning my way
through a problem or conflict
to a solution that feels best to me.
These days, I have been leaning into:
- Journaling: Writing has always been a cathartic outlet, and I have leaned into it even more in recent years, purple-penning my way through a problem or conflict to a solution that feels best to me.
- Having an accountability buddy: When I feel unable to set a boundary against the people-pleasing tendency, I ask my husband or a close friend to remind me to maintain it.
- Trying new things: Pushing myself out of my comfort zone helps me get to know myself better, understand what I enjoy, and gain clarity on who I want to be.
I also recently began presence-based coaching, which combines mindfulness, somatic awareness, and neuroscience for self-discovery with someone I deeply trust. I shared with her the story of how my therapist treated my response about being nice with so much disdain. My coach reminded me that “nice” and “kind” are words that define how we interact mostly with other people, not common terms for how we engage with ourselves.
I am seeing the rewards of the work. I am more self-aware of both my flaws and my draws. I am not as quick to fall back into my people-pleasing tendencies. I reflect on what feels best for me before responding to someone else. I feel surrounded by people who value me for me, not for what I can offer them. It’s a good start.
These days, my answer to the question, “What is the characteristic of yourself you are most proud of?” would probably vary, depending on the day. On some days, I would probably still say that my kindness and empathy are now reinforced by stronger boundaries. On other days, I would say resilience, my ability to bounce back and keep trying even after failure. Recently, I retook the Hogwarts Sorting House quiz and was surprised to find a new result: Ravenclaw, curious, witty, insightful.
I hope I never lose the ability to be nice, empathetic, and kind to others. I still very much believe that those are essential qualities that will keep us all connected, as the world continues to feel even more disconnected. But I hope I continue to lean into the discomfort of growth, that I never fall back into the pattern of staying stagnant in what feels more comfortable. The work to get through the harder parts to reach my truest self is not always easy. The reward of that work, however, is starting to feel worth it.
The work to get through
the harder parts to reach
my truest self is not always easy.
The reward of that work, however,
is starting to feel worth it.
Mamata Subramanyam
Mamata, a long time Heartfulness meditator and trainer, is the social media editor for Heartfulness Ma... Read More
