I used to think that if I refused someone, the world would collapse. They would stop loving me, forget me, stop inviting me to visit. So I agreed — to help with moving, to babysit someone else's cat, to listen to someone else's complaints at two in the morning. I turned into a kind pillow. Soft, reliable — and endlessly tired.

The first "no" happened in a taxi. Sounds stupid, right? The driver said: "Girl, maybe we should have some coffee?" — and I reflexively wanted to squeeze out "well, we can", but suddenly I stopped myself. I said: "No. Thank you." And I left. My heart was pounding as if I had escaped from something huge. And I simply chose myself.

Then I started training. In the store - "no, I don't want a bag." At home - "no, I won't discuss this now." To a friend - "no, I can't come today, I want to sleep."

Every "no" makes me lighter. It's as if there is space inside me - and I finally understand that I can take it with myself. Before, all this space was given over to other people's requests and other people's little "please."

Sometimes I think that saying "no" tastes better than chocolate. Because you eat chocolate - and it ends. But freedom - no.