Today I Choose to be Considerate – How to be Considerate

For most of my life, I thought being considerate meant making myself smaller. I said yes when I wanted to say no. I took the burnt toast so someone else could have the better piece. I smoothed over conflicts to “keep the peace,” even when it left me knotted inside. But somewhere in my 50s, I realized that wasn’t true consideration—it was people-pleasing dressed up as kindness. True consideration includes myself in the equation. Sometimes it’s being thoughtful of my own needs, saying “not today” without guilt, or letting Curtis make his own dinner because I’m spent. It turns out the most considerate thing I can do for the people I love is to show up whole—not hollowed out from constantly giving.

The shift happened gradually. After years of being the one who always cooked, always cleaned up, always accommodated everyone’s dietary preferences, I hit a wall. One Sunday, with the whole family coming for dinner, I looked at my mile-long grocery list and just… stopped. Called everyone and said, “Potluck this week. Bring something you love.” The shock in their voices was palpable.

But you know what? That dinner was one of our best. Everyone contributed. No one person was exhausted. And I actually got to enjoy my family instead of serving them. That’s when I learned: consideration that depletes one person to comfort others isn’t sustainable. It’s extraction disguised as kindness.

The Myth of Self-Sacrifice as Consideration

We’re taught, especially as women, that consideration means putting everyone else first. Your needs come last, if at all. You eat standing up so everyone else can sit. You take the middle seat on the plane. You work through lunch so others can take breaks.

This isn’t consideration. It’s martyrdom with a smile.

I spent decades perfecting this performance. Always available for others’ crises. Always willing to drop my plans for their emergencies. Always the one who’d say, “No, it’s fine, really” when it wasn’t fine at all.

My mother modeled this. She’d give us the best portions while eating scraps. She’d skip her doctor appointments to drive us to activities. She’d say she wasn’t hungry when there wasn’t enough food. I thought this was love. It was, but it was also depletion. And depletion, I’ve learned, serves no one.

The Wake-Up Call

The breaking point came during a particularly brutal work week. I’d covered for three colleagues, stayed late every night, skipped lunch every day. Meanwhile, I’d promised to help Tyler move, committed to making food for a friend’s party, and agreed to watch my neighbor’s dog.

Thursday night, Curtis found me crying in the kitchen at 11 PM, trying to make a casserole with ingredients I didn’t have for a party I didn’t want to attend. “Why are you doing this?” he asked.

“Because I said I would. Because she’s counting on me. Because I need to be considerate.”

He looked at me—exhausted, depleted, crying over a casserole—and said, “Who’s being considerate of you?”

The answer was no one. Including me.

What True Consideration Looks Like

Considering Impact, Not Just Intent
When I always said yes to extra work, I thought I was being considerate to my boss. But I was being inconsiderate to Curtis, who got the exhausted version of me. To my health, which suffered from stress. To my team, who never got to grow because I did everything.

True consideration looks at the whole picture. Yes, taking on that project helps my colleague. But what’s the ripple effect? What’s the real cost? Who pays when I say yes?

Considering Long-Term, Not Just Immediate
Saying yes to every request seems considerate in the moment. But when you burn out and can’t help anyone, that’s deeply inconsiderate. Sustainable consideration thinks beyond today.

I learned this the hard way when I had a minor breakdown and couldn’t function for two weeks. All those people I’d been “considerate” toward? They had to figure it out without me. If I’d been truly considerate, I’d have maintained my capacity to help long-term.

Considering Honestly, Not Just Nicely
Sometimes the most considerate thing is honest feedback. Letting someone continue making mistakes because you don’t want to hurt their feelings isn’t kind—it’s cowardly.

My friend kept dating terrible men and coming to me for comfort. For years, I just listened and soothed. Finally, I said, “You keep choosing the same type of person and expecting different results.” She was hurt initially. But it was the conversation that changed her pattern. Nice would have kept her stuck. Honest consideration helped her grow.

Consideration That Includes Yourself

Now, being considerate looks like:

“Let me check my capacity”
Instead of automatic yes, I pause. Check my energy, my calendar, my emotional bandwidth. Sometimes the answer is still yes. But it’s a conscious yes, not a reflexive one.

“I can help, but not today”
Consideration doesn’t mean immediate compliance. I can care about your need while also honoring my limits. “I want to help with your move, but I’m exhausted. Can we do it next weekend?”

“That doesn’t work for me”
Revolutionary words for a people-pleaser. Someone suggests dinner at 9 PM on a work night. Old me would go and be miserable. New me says, “That doesn’t work for me. How about 6:30?”

“I need to think about it”
The pause that changed everything. Instead of answering immediately, I take time. Consider the request fully. Consider my capacity. Consider the real impact. Then respond.

The Resistance to Self-Consideration

The first time I said, “I’m too tired to cook tonight,” the guilt was crushing. Generations of women who cooked through exhaustion, illness, and grief seemed to judge me. But Curtis didn’t starve. He made sandwiches. The world didn’t end. And the next night, I cooked with energy instead of resentment.

People will resist when you start including yourself in consideration. They’re used to you being the endless well. Some will call you selfish. Let them. They’re usually the ones who benefited most from your depletion.

My mother-in-law actually said, “You’ve changed. You used to be so accommodating.” I replied, “I used to be exhausted. Now I’m sustainable.” She didn’t like it. But she adjusted.

Considerate Boundaries

At Work
“I can help with that, but not until next week.” Consideration doesn’t mean immediate compliance. It means realistic assessment of what you can do well.

Last month, my boss asked me to take on a project with a ridiculous deadline. Old me would have killed myself trying. New me said, “I can do it well by Friday, or I can do it poorly by Wednesday. Which would you prefer?” He chose Friday.

With Family
“I love you, but I need Sunday mornings to myself.” Consideration includes considering what you need to be present for others.

This boundary with my kids was hard. They were used to Sunday breakfast together. But I needed those quiet mornings to write, think, be. Now we do Sunday dinner instead. I show up refreshed instead of resentful.

With Friends
“I care about what you’re going through, but I don’t have capacity to process this today.” Consideration acknowledges your own emotional bandwidth.

My friend who calls in crisis had to adjust to this. At first, she was hurt. Then she realized that when I do have capacity, I’m fully present. Quality over quantity.

The Mathematics of Consideration

I started doing actual math. If I have 100 units of energy per day and I give 20 to work, 20 to family, 20 to friends, 20 to household, 20 to obligations—I’m at zero. Where’s the consideration for myself?

Now I budget energy like money. I need 20 units for myself—non-negotiable. That might be writing, walking, reading, staring at walls. Without it, I’m overdrawn, and everyone gets the insufficient funds version of me.

Teaching Others to Be Considerate

When you stop over-functioning, others have to step up. This is actually considerate—you’re giving them the opportunity to grow, contribute, be capable.

Tyler never learned to cook because I always cooked. When I stopped being available for every meal, he learned. Now he makes amazing Thai food. My over-consideration had been robbing him of competence.

Curtis never handled his medical appointments because I always did. When I stopped, he figured it out. He’s actually better at it than I was—more organized, less anxious.

Consideration vs. Enabling

Much of what I called consideration was actually enabling. Doing for others what they could do themselves. Protecting them from consequences. Smoothing their path so they never learned to navigate.

This was especially true with my mother. Every crisis, I’d rush in to fix. Finally, my therapist asked, “What would happen if you didn’t?” The answer: She’d figure it out. Or she wouldn’t. But either way, it wasn’t my responsibility.

Now when she calls with drama, I listen with love but don’t rush to rescue. “That sounds hard, Mom. What are you going to do?” Revolutionary. She’s actually become more capable.

The Joy of Balanced Consideration

Here’s what I didn’t expect: When consideration includes me, I have more to give, not less. When I’m not depleted, I can be genuinely generous. When I’m not resentful, kindness flows naturally.

Last week, my friend needed help with a work crisis. Because I’d been considerate of my own needs all week, I had energy to give. I spent three hours helping her, joyfully. That’s the difference—joyfully vs. obligatorily.

The Physical Impact

My body knew before my mind did. When I stopped over-considering others:

• My chronic shoulder tension released
• My insomnia improved
• My digestion settled
• My headaches decreased
• My energy increased

Turns out, constantly depleting yourself for others is physically exhausting. Who knew? (My body knew. It had been screaming for years.)

Today’s Choice

Today, choose to be considerate in a way that includes you. Before saying yes, ask: “Is this sustainable? Does this consider my needs too? Will this leave me whole or hollow?”

Practice saying:

• “Let me think about it”
• “I can’t today, but how about…”
• “That doesn’t work for me”
• “I need to check my capacity”
• “I want to help, but…”

Remember: The most considerate thing you can offer the people you love is a version of yourself that isn’t depleted, resentful, or running on empty. That requires considering yourself as carefully as you consider others.

At 61, I’ve learned that true consideration creates sustainability, not martyrdom. It builds relationships where everyone gives and receives. It acknowledges that your needs matter too.

So be considerate. Be kind. Be thoughtful. But include yourself in that circle of consideration. Because you can’t pour from an empty cup, and pretending you can isn’t considerate—it’s unsustainable.

And that casserole I was crying over? I never made it. Bought cookies from the store instead. The world didn’t end. The party was fine. And I got sleep. That’s consideration that includes everyone—including me.