Coraline, wedged between the wall and the drak-car, doesn’t dare say no — The Hammock and the Hummingbirds, practical guide

Why can’t I say no?

The no phase

Some people learn it at 2. Others take 40 more years. It’s not a question of character.

The keyIf saying no was presented to you as doing harm, you don’t have a firmness problem. You have a confusion to untangle.

Where it comes from

There’s an age, around two or 3, when you say no to everything. It’s a stage, it has a name, and it serves a purpose: discovering that you can refuse without the world falling apart.

Except that for some children, something happens at that moment — or later. A shock in the family, someone who isn’t well, news that mustn’t be told. And the child is asked to keep quiet, to protect.

The child keeps quiet. And does it well. They’re praised for being brave, discreet, sensible. And they learn, at the wrong moment, that keeping quiet protects the people you love.

From then on, an equation sets in, and it’s no longer up for discussion.

Saying no = doing harm.

How it plays out afterwards

Child

You’re trusted with a silence to keep. You keep it. You’re proud.

Keeping quiet = doing right.

Teenager

You say nothing so as not to lose the bond. You take it, for a long time. Then it all comes out at once, too late and too loud — and you’re told you’re overreacting.

Keeping quiet = keeping people. Speaking = breaking everything.

Adult

Same mechanism, different settings: a relationship, a job, a family. You adapt, you understand the other person, you grin and bear it. It works very well, for a very long time.

Until the day your body stops playing along.

How to tell if this is you

Three signs, and they’re simple:

  • You prepare your refusals in advance, like a closing speech in court. A 3-word no takes you half an hour of mental preparation.
  • After saying no, you check the other person is all right. Sometimes several times.
  • You often say “it doesn’t matter” when it does.

Where to start

You don’t undo this with willpower. You undo it with repetition, on tiny things, until your body registers that nobody dies.

  1. One no with nothing at stake, this week. An invitation, a favour, an appointment that doesn’t suit you. Something you couldn’t care less about — that’s the point.
  2. Don’t explain. “No, that doesn’t suit me.” Full stop. Every explanation opens the door again.
  3. Don’t check afterwards. It’s the hardest step, and it’s the one that counts. You don’t call back to make sure everything’s all right.
  4. Take note. The next day, look at what happened. Usually: nothing. It’s that absence of disaster that deprograms the equation, not reasoning.
Today, I say no to say yes to myself.

— Coraline, The Hammock and the Hummingbirds

⚠ The nuance that changes everything

Keeping quiet to protect someone isn’t always a mistake. There are moments when it’s right, and ages when a child can’t do otherwise.

What this page is about is what happens when that reflex is still active 30 years later, in situations that have nothing to do with it any more. It’s the mismatch that causes the problem, not the original act.

And if the silence you were asked to keep covers something heavy, this page won’t be enough. It can be worked on with someone whose job it is.

Saying no kills nobody.
Sometimes it takes 40 years to check.

Taken from the novel The Hammock and the Hummingbirds, and from the working text “the no phase”.