Learning to Embrace the No's in Life

I just wanted to meal prep :(

One moment you’re casually browsing a store, and the next, you’re wrestling with a tidal wave of feelings over something as small as a set of ceramic containers. That’s exactly what happened to me recently, and I wanted to share my experience—not to complain or seek attention, but to reflect on what I’ve learned about myself in the process. Let me set the scene: it’s a normal day, and we’re at Marshalls. I spot these beautiful Fika One ceramic food containers. They’re sleek, simple, and far more elegant than the Pyrex containers I already use for meal prep. To top it off, they’re heavily discounted, about 60% off their regular price. It felt like such a find! I’ve been eyeing Ceraway containers for a while now, but these seemed like an affordable and practical alternative. Excited, I told my mom and my boyfriend that I wanted to buy them.

Both of them told me no.

It could have stopped there had i just said ok and bought them anyway, as I was paying for them in the first place, but I let my emotions take control.

To be fair, they weren’t trying to be rude or dismissive. They simply pointed out that I already have food containers and don’t need more. Objectively, they’re right. But something about hearing them say no really upset me. It wasn’t just disappointment; it felt personal, almost as though their refusal was a rejection of me rather than the purchase. I didn’t buy the containers, but the emotional response lingered, and I found myself asking: why did this bother me so much?

Digging Deeper

When emotions like this surface, it’s often a sign to dig deeper. Over time, I’ve realized that my sensitivity to “no” or not having authority to make my own decisions stems from patterns rooted in my childhood. I grew up with a wonderful upbringing—my parents worked hard to provide for me, and I rarely went without anything I truly needed. However, I had no say in those decisions and or conversations.

Growing up, I received a lot of hand-me-downs from my older brother. While practical, they often left me feeling like an afterthought. Much of my parents’ attention was focused on my brothers needs, as he faced complications that required their energy and care. That’s a topic for another day, but it shaped how I saw myself within my family dynamic. I often felt like my preferences were secondary—a subtle but persistent reminder that my voice didn’t carry much weight. My mom often says that I choose things simply becuase theyve chosen something else.

When we moved to Georgia, this pattern played out in a way that still stands out to me. I wanted to choose a bedroom in the new house, I thought, since i was starting highschool and we moved across the country I could chose a bedroom, but my parents had already decided for me. “It’s got a small room attached,” my mom said enthusiastically, “You love small rooms!” I dont, and that small room became a storage space, packed with Christmas decorations the first year we were there. Couldnt I have had the bedroom next to it, why do I need this room? It felt like an instance where my wants and opinions were dismissed, even in something as small as choosing a room.

This idea that my preferences weren’t a priority wasn’t limited to just the bedroom. It extended to the sheets I slept on, pencils I used, clothes I wore, the classes I took in school, and eventually, even the college major I pursued. My parents chose what they thought was best for me, and when I voiced my own opinion or preferences, I was met with negative responses. Over time, those experiences created a belief that I didnt know what was best for me.

It’s Okay to Feel Upset

This pattern resurfaced in an unexpected way. Amine, who has embraced minimalism, had gone through his belongings before moving to the United States, discarding what he no longer needed. Inspired by his approach, him and my mom decided it was time for me to do the same. The timing caught me off guard—I had just gotten home from work, and suddenly I was being told to declutter. While I’d been meaning to do it for a while, the way it unfolded felt like they were telling me I had too much stuff, and that hit me on a personal level. Amine has even introduced a rule: for every new item I buy, I have to give something away. While I understand the logic behind this principle, What if I don’t want to give something away? 🤔

This experience taught me two things. First, it’s okay to feel upset when things don’t go the way I hoped. Or doing things you dont like. Emotions aren’t inherently good or bad; they’re signals that help us understand ourselves better. Second, I’m realizing that sometimes, the “no”s we hear from others can be a chance to practice gratitude and mindfulness. Do I really need those food containers, or was I drawn to them because they felt like a treat and I just got paid? Maybe both are true, and that’s okay too, it doesnt really matter.

In the end, I didn’t buy the containers. But I did gain something more valuable: a deeper understanding of myself and why I feel the way I do. .

Conclusions

Looking back, I can see how these patterns have shaped a quiet but persistent belief that what I want doesn’t matter as much as what others think is best for me. Even now, when I’m in a position to make my own choices, Like spending my own money on food containers, hearing “no” stirs up old feelings of not being seen or heard. It’s a deep-seated reaction that I’m working hard to untangle. These moments can trigger a range of emotions: frustration, disappointment, and even a sense of inadequacy. It’s not really about the food containers or the closet—it’s about the underlying need to feel validated and supported. When someone says “no,” it can feel like they’re dismissing not just the object but also my ability to make good decisions or prioritize what matters.

Of course, that’s not what they’re actually saying. My mom and Amine were simply being practical, reminding me that I already have what I need. But in the moment, it’s easy to let those old feelings of rejection take over. Understanding this has helped me pause and reframe the situation. Instead of seeing “no” as a rejection, I’m learning to view it as an opportunity to reflect on what I truly value and why.

And yes I still want them.