The Questions I Ask Before Saying Yes
I used to say yes to almost everything.
Not because I wanted to do everything. Not because I had unlimited time or energy. But because I had not yet learned that every yes carries a cost.
When someone asked if I could take on a project, join a committee, attend an event, provide feedback, make an introduction—my default answer was yes. I said yes because I wanted to be helpful. Because I wanted to be seen as capable. Because I worried that saying no would close a door I might need later.
And for a while, this worked. Being the person who said yes built my reputation. It expanded my network. It created opportunities.
But it also created something else: a life designed around other people's priorities instead of my own.
I was busy. I was visible. I was making things happen. But I was not necessarily moving toward anything I actually wanted. I was just responding. Reacting. Accommodating.
At some point, I realized that saying yes to everything meant saying yes to nothing in particular. That without a framework for deciding what deserved my time and energy, I was letting everyone else design my life for me.
So I started asking different questions.
The Shift
The change did not happen overnight. It started with noticing the pattern.
I would agree to something—a meeting, a speaking engagement, a collaboration—and immediately feel a heaviness. Not excitement. Not alignment. Just a quiet dread about having one more thing on my calendar that I did not actually want to do.
I would tell myself it was fine. That this is what professional life looks like. That you do not get to love everything you commit to.
But the truth was simpler: I was saying yes to things that did not serve me because I had not defined what serving me actually meant.
So I started getting more intentional. Not rigid. Not inflexible. Just more deliberate about what I allowed into my life.
I developed a set of questions I sit with before I commit to anything. Not a checklist I run through mechanically, but a framework that helps me distinguish between what looks good and what actually is good for me.
The Questions
Here is what I ask myself now before I say yes to anything—a project, an opportunity, a request, an invitation.
Does this energize me or deplete me?
This is the first question because it is the most visceral. When I think about doing this thing, do I feel a pull toward it or a resistance against it?
I am not talking about nervousness or the discomfort of growth. I am talking about the difference between "this scares me but I want to do it" and "this drains me just thinking about it."
Some things require effort but leave you feeling more alive. Other things require effort and leave you feeling diminished. I have learned to pay attention to that difference.
Is this moving me toward something or just away from something?
There is a difference between making a choice because it serves your vision and making a choice because you are trying to escape your current situation.
Moving toward something feels generative. You can articulate why you want it. You can see how it connects to where you are trying to go.
Moving away from something feels reactive. You might not even want the opportunity itself—you just want out of where you are. And that is useful information, but it is not the same as alignment.
I have learned that the best decisions are the ones that pull me forward, not the ones that push me away from discomfort.
What is this costing me?
Every yes has a cost. Time. Energy. Attention. Opportunity cost.
When I commit to this, what am I not committing to? What am I giving up? What am I delaying?
Sometimes the cost is worth it. Sometimes it is not. But I cannot make that assessment if I am not honest about what I am trading.
I used to think only about what I was gaining. Now I think just as much about what I am spending.
Does this align with where I am trying to go?
Not where I have been. Not where other people think I should be going. Where I am actually trying to go.
This requires knowing where that is, which is its own work. But once you have clarity on your direction, this question becomes remarkably clarifying.
If something does not move you closer to where you are headed, it is a detour. Detours are not always bad. Sometimes they are necessary or worthwhile. But they should be chosen consciously, not accepted by default.
Am I saying yes because I want to or because I feel like I should?
"Should" is a dangerous word. It usually means you are operating from obligation, expectation, or fear rather than genuine desire.
I should say yes because this person helped me once. I should say yes because it would look good. I should say yes because saying no feels selfish.
But "should" is not the same as "want." And building a life around shoulds is exhausting.
I am not suggesting you only do things you want to do. Life does not work that way. But I am suggesting you notice when should is driving your decisions and ask yourself if that is actually how you want to design your life.
What would I tell someone I care about to do?
This one is interesting because it removes me from the equation for a moment.
If someone I respected came to me with this opportunity and asked for my honest opinion, what would I say? Would I encourage them to do it? Would I tell them to pass?
Sometimes I am kinder to others than I am to myself. Sometimes I can see clearly for someone else what I cannot see for myself. So I ask: what would I advise if this were not about me?
Can I do this well without compromising something else that matters more?
This is about capacity. Not just time, but quality.
I can technically fit a lot of things into my schedule. But can I do them well? Can I show up the way I want to show up? Can I deliver at the standard I hold for myself?
Or will saying yes to this mean showing up diminished somewhere else? Will it mean sacrificing sleep, or presence with people I care about, or the quality of my primary work?
I have learned that I would rather do fewer things exceptionally than many things adequately. This question helps me protect that.
What Changed
I cannot say that asking these questions made my life simpler. In some ways, it made it harder.
It is easier to just say yes. To not think too deeply. To let other people's requests become your priorities.
But it also made my life more mine.
I say no more often now. Not because I am inflexible or unavailable, but because I have clarity about what I am building and what serves that.
And here is what I have noticed: the people who respect my judgment respect my boundaries. The opportunities that are right for me do not require me to contort myself to fit them.
The more intentional I have become about what I say yes to, the more aligned my life has become with what I actually want.
The Practice
I am not suggesting you adopt my exact questions. Your framework should reflect your values, your season, your priorities.
But I am suggesting that you develop one.
Because without a framework, you are just reacting. You are letting urgency dictate importance. You are allowing other people to design your calendar, which means they are designing your life.
And at some point, you have to decide: are you building the life you want, or are you just managing the life that happens to you?
So here is what I know now that I did not know before: saying yes is easy. Saying yes intentionally is the work.
It requires clarity about what you value. Honesty about what you can sustain. The courage to disappoint people who expected you to accommodate them.
But it also creates something that saying yes to everything never did: a life that feels like yours.
And that is worth protecting.
