Dear leader,

Stop saying yes when you mean no.

You may be a woman who prides herself on being reliable, someone who shows up for everyone. Someone who doesn't want to let people down or be seen as difficult.

But what others don't see is the part of you stretched so thin you're barely holding it together. The part that can't say no without drowning in guilt.

You've redefined what strength means by building capacity rather than forcing performance. You've rebuilt trust with your body by learning to listen rather than manage. Now comes the critical question: How do you protect what you've built from being depleted by everyone else's expectations?

This is where setting boundaries becomes essential. Not boundaries as walls, but boundaries as the framework that lets you show up fully for what truly matters.

I've worked with countless women who came to me already depleted—not because they weren't capable, but because they'd never learned to say no. One client stands out: She was seven months pregnant, managing a toddler, and her mother-in-law had just announced she was coming to "help" for a month after the baby arrived.

Her anxiety wasn't about having help—it was about the specific kind of "help" this would be: unsolicited parenting advice, criticism disguised as concern, expectations that she accommodate her mother-in-law's schedule and preferences.

She'd already said yes because she didn't know how to say no without causing family conflict. But the "yes" was costing her: increased stress, resentment toward her partner for not protecting her boundaries, and genuine fear that her postpartum recovery would become about managing someone else's feelings instead of her own healing.

The pushback was real. Her mother-in-law said she was being "ungrateful". Her partner initially didn't understand why this mattered so much. But when she held the boundary, those first two weeks postpartum became sacred. She and her partner figured out their rhythm without external commentary.

She learned that protecting her capacity wasn't about rejecting help—it was about defining what help actually looked like for her.

Every "yes" to someone else is a "no" to something you value.

My boundary-setting journey mirrors my entire professional evolution. With my first birth experience, I had no boundaries. I allowed everything and anything under the sun. I was finishing up my Masters thesis paper days after birth trying to maintain pre-pregnancy availability despite my body's clear signals to slow down.

By my third child, things had shifted. When I went back to work, I said no to non-essential work travel or negotiated comp time when it affected my personal life. If I traveled on weekends or missed my children's milestones for work, I took that time back during the week—not as unpaid leave, but as negotiated remote working. I scheduled pumping breaks as non-negotiable calendar blocks. I arranged my in-office schedule around my kids' schedules. I delegated last-minute requests to my team members.

Not only did my performance improve, but my team became more empowered. My strategic impact increased because I wasn't scattered across everything—I was focused on what mattered most.

Leaving my corporate career to start my business, forced me to set boundaries with family members and close friends in ways I'd never done before.

Comments about "wasting my PhD" or "now spending my husband's money" revealed how little they valued both my 20-year career success and the work of building a business while still managing all the household responsibilities.

The assumption that my time wasn't valuable, that I could accommodate everyone's schedule, everyone's needs, everyone's expectations, became unbearable. I had to step back from people who spoke to me negatively or failed to give me the emotional support I needed. Not out of spite, but out of self-preservation.

Every time I set a boundary, I was saying yes to something I valued more. When I said no to weekend work travel, I was saying yes to my children's milestones. When I stepped back from family members who diminished my work, I was saying yes to my own worth.

The guilt faded when I realized boundaries weren't about being selfish, they were about being strategic.

So what does protecting your capacity actually look like?

• Say no without explaining yourself. The basic framework: acknowledge the request, state your boundary, optional brief reason, end firmly. "Thank you for thinking of me. I won't be able to take this on given my current priorities". No apologies. No over-explaining. You don't owe everyone a justification.

• Translate this to work without the guilt. When you leave on time instead of working late to "make up for" the prenatal appointment you attended earlier, or when you protect your pumping schedule, you're not being difficult—you're being strategic about sustainable performance. Block your calendar. Set your schedule. Let your team and peers plan accordingly.

• Recognize you're modeling for the next generation. When you set boundaries, your children and team members learn that their time and energy are valuable. That "no" is a complete sentence. That accommodation isn't the same as kindness. When you don't set boundaries, they learn to accommodate others at their own expense, that guilt is a reason to override their needs, that their worth comes from being useful to others.

Take time this week to notice where you're saying yes out of guilt rather than genuine alignment with your values. What would it feel like to say no without immediately justifying yourself?

This completes the rise with strength stage of The S.M.A.R.T. Journey to Parenting™.

In my next entry we'll explore the T pillar: Thrive Together—because once you've set your vision, mindfully prepared, advanced your understanding, and risen with strength, you're ready to show up authentically and stay connected through the chaos.

Strategic boundaries aren't walls—they're the framework that protects your capacity to show up fully for what truly matters.

From my desk to yours,
Dr. Michelle El Khoury