virtual children by Scott Warnock

Yes-more people

Most likely, you know about Simon Biles and the 2021 Olympics. I haven’t followed too closely the web scuttlebutt following her decision to withdraw from much of Olympic competition, only partially because I’m shutting myself off from Olympic news so as not to get spoilers every night.

I know that she specifically had the “twisties,” and, more importantly, has been inspirational in discussing mental health. Her health, of course, is interlocked with her positioning as one of the greatest athletes ever, but I wonder if, while she is an extraordinary person, that she has something in common with many others: She’s one of the yes-more people.

It’s tough being a yes-more person. You always say yes. You always do more.

The lives of yes-more people are often engulfed by expectations, accomplishments, roles, titles, and duties. For long stretches of time, they often do get it all done. They brim with pride when someone says, “How do you do it?”

But other times, they’re hollowed out, sleep-deprived, disoriented.

I can be a yes-more person. I don’t know when it all started, but I got in the mode of doing things, saying yes–both in local activities and at work–and increasingly piling on. I got involved, got organized, and wanted to meet the world. I kinda love it most of the time.

But once in a while, it has left me hollowed out, sleep-deprived, disoriented.

It is difficult to escape, because yes-more people get a strong sense of identity from these external measures of self. And this can be very difficult to notice.

I had an experience with a very wise counselor once. I had a holiday gift for her, a candle (of course purchased by my wife because I was too busy to get it myself). As I exited my car to deliver the gift, I was not only in a rush (because I was late!), but I also had in my hands too much stuff including a phone, wallet, keys (I mean, why use a pocket?), a book. I tried to then answer a phone call and grab the gift, which was wrapped and in a paper bag, at the same time.

Of course, I dropped the bag on the pavement. I heard the jar around the candle shatter. Damn! I thought, but I brought it to her anyway, so she could see I did have something. I showed her and promised I would take it back and return with a replacement soon.

Oh no, she said, relieving me of the bag, I want this one. I was puzzled. But she made clear the experience for me by saying, When you do too many things, something breaks. She kept that candle so she could remind me of that simple fact when I needed such reminding.

You can see that story resonated for me. I don’t always succeed in following the advice of the wise counselor. I still often become identified with my yes-more self.

Sometimes, world-class athlete or not, you have to say no. Go to one less meeting. Miss a workout. Admit you can’t do it.

Make no mistake, there are costs to saying no, missing things. But as I watched Biles’ smart interview with Mike Tirico at the end of her Olympic experience, I saw realizing your limits, even for the extraordinary, can help you avoid the more serious and sometimes dangerous costs of the yes-more person.

Scott Warnock is a writer and teacher who lives in South Jersey. He is a professor of English at Drexel University, where he is also the Associate Dean of Undergraduate Education in the College of Arts and Sciences. Father of three and husband of one, Scott is president of a local high school education foundation and spent many years coaching youth sports.
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