How I hacked my life by saying yes to everything

A humbling run-in with an ex-boyfriend nudged me to see that my default decision-making was flawed. I’m not alone. It’s a basic human tendency to prioritize how we feel in the moment over our long-term goals. For some, this looks like declining plans or canceling at the last minute because we’re tired, even though we usually feel invigorated by social experiences. For others, it’s saying yes to avoid disappointing someone, even though we’re exhausted and overextended.

These knee-jerk decisions keep us in routines that aren’t always good for us. Even before 2020, people were already spending less time socializing than they had two decades earlier, but the pandemic turned everyone into homebodies. Stay-at-home orders may be behind us, but our reluctance to leave the couch seems to have persisted. Surveys show we are going out less, and we are also lonelier than ever. Actually doing something about it isn’t easy, which is why upending our reflexive decision-making can be helpful, whether we usually say “yes" or “no."

My own tendency to decline most invitations got jolted by several run-ins with a former boyfriend. We’d first met not long after his marriage had ended, and we broke up when I sensed he was still working through his divorce. In our months apart, I’d come to appreciate just how well suited we were for each other. But just as I was thinking we might try again, he was moving on and becoming his best self. He’d hired a personal trainer, joined a basketball team and thrown himself into work. He was so busy it often took him ages to respond to my texts. I was outraged—mostly at myself for not being similarly occupied. I felt suddenly ready to be busy, too. With a newfound urgency, I began saying yes to every invitation I received.

The first time I ignored my gut, I regretted it immediately. I said I would go to a party in Los Gatos, an hour away and hosted by my former neighbor’s mother. I either had to drive there are take a cab for $360 round trip. Ambivalent until the end, I failed to RSVP in time. When I learned I could still go, I begrudgingly put on a dress and got in my car.

As someone who talks to strangers all the time for work, I assumed I’d be comfortable approaching a table of unfamiliar people and asking, “May I join you?" I was wrong. It wasn’t excruciating, but it had distinct high-school cafeteria vibes. I had several nice conversations but made no lasting connections. Still, while driving home, I realized I didn’t regret going. The catered dinner, the live band, the moment of, “Oh right, the sight of white lights strung over a green backyard at dusk makes me happy," were enough.

The yeses that followed came more easily. At the beach, I’d often seen a group of women cold plunging in the San Francisco Bay. One morning one of them told me I was welcome to join and said the next day was Stacey’s birthday. I didn’t know who Stacey was, but I showed up.

I started meeting this group several mornings a week. I didn’t really care if cold plunging actually reduced inflammation or boosted my immune system, as they claimed. I was more motivated by hearing Amy’s Dalai Lama-like advice, admiring Susan’s self-confidence and watching Stacey dive under the waves like a Waikiki mermaid instead of someone in frigid, polluted water.

When two co-workers invited me to swim open-water laps, I said yes. One gave advice: Anytime you need to push yourself to get in that water, remind yourself “60 strokes to bliss." After 60 strokes, you don’t feel cold anymore, she explained. She was right.

These adventures helped me feel buoyant, confident and eager for more new experiences. Every yes I’d said felt like the best yes yet.

This experiment worked because I essentially hijacked my brain’s natural decision-making habits, says Vanessa Bohns, a professor of organizational behavior at Cornell University. She explains that adults make between 33,000 and 35,000 decisions a day—about everything from what we say to what we eat. Because it’s impossible to weigh our options for each and every one, we take shortcuts by making many of these choices subconsciously or deferring to precedent. By changing my default answer from no to yes, I found it easier to satisfy my goals of being more social and fulfilled.

“People are cognitive misers," says Bohns, referring to our psychological tendency to limit the effort we put into decision-making and problem-solving. “Making a new default setting is in many ways easier than telling yourself, ‘I’m going to do this more.’"

For those who instinctively say yes to everything, in an effort to please others but at their own expense, the same pernicious decision-making shortcuts are at play. That is, people-pleasers often say yes impulsively in part because they lack the language and practice for saying no. To override this instinct, Bohns suggests having a diplomatic “no" script handy. Even a few trial “no’s" should demonstrate how drawing boundaries and indulging in some self-care often improves relationships.

Natalie Dattilo, a clinical psychologist and instructor at Harvard Medical School, explains that when we’re not doing enough mentally or physically—or when we’re too stuck in comfortable but ultimately unfulfilling routines, as I was—we succumb to a kind of mental inertia. Much like how our muscles atrophy when they are not being used, Dattilo says our brains suffer from lack of stimulation; instead of taking risks to experience pleasure, we seek more reliable comforts. “If I stay home and watch Netflix, I know that’s going to make me happy. It works all the time," says Dattilo.

The trouble is when these choices compromise our ultimate goals. Building up the motivation to do something that we have reservations about—“scaring our souls," as some put it—is often good for us. It was certainly good for me.

I found that taking new risks yielded new rewards, which inspired me to take yet more risks. I stopped waiting for invitations and sought out more to do. I swapped phone numbers with a hunter I’d met in my neighborhood so I could finally see my bird dog in the field. I bumped into an acquaintance and asked if she had anyone to set me up with.

“The brain likes novelty and effort," Datillo says. “Those are the things that light up the brain in a way that feels rewarding and reinforcing."

After six months of yes, I slowly started letting no’s back into my life. I skipped a few happy hours when I wanted to prioritize being in bed early. I got decked out for a charity event and agreed to a last-minute trip for Memorial Day but declined a wine-tasting invitation that felt like too much effort when I had dinner plans the same night.

I now understand that finding the right balance between yes and no involves staying true to my ambitions for my long-term self. As much as I love watching bad reality TV at home, I’m aware I’m far more fulfilled when I take risks to experience some novelty. I’m also now more aware of early signs of malaise, or even just restlessness. Swimming in the bay is still invigorating, but it’s now just part of my routine. I can sense it will soon be time to be on the lookout for something new, for the next thing that might scare my soul.

Katherine Bindley is a technology reporter for The Wall Street Journal in San Francisco.