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Are You Too Kind? When Kindness Becomes a Liability
Updated: Sep 5
The Hidden Cost of Always Being So Nice
Kindness sits at the top of so many of my clients' superpowers. One in particular is so kind, she missed traveling to her son's graduation to be with her father when his health took a sudden turn — the same father who has never exactly been "a very nice guy." Why? "Because that's what a kind person does," she says, brushing off the selflessness while insisting she did it for herself, not anyone else.
This woman is an absolute lamb of a human: lovely, empathetic. She'd give you her left eyeball and help you bury a body without asking a single question — and then come up with some very good excuses for why you needed to murder someone in the first place.
She's also running on fumes — because somewhere along the way, the woman who holds it all together for everyone else became the sacrificial lamb of her own flock, leaning into kindness so far, she risks tipping into self-abandonment.
If this resonates — or you know someone with OKS (Over-Kindness Syndrome, which I recently invented) — keep reading. I've got some reframes that might help.
When "Being Kind" Turns into "I Don't Count"
For a lot of the people I work with, kindness is their superpower — and their trap. They:
Step in during every crisis, even when it isn't theirs to fix
Frame self-sacrifice as "just being a good person"
Smooth things over and work overtime to understand everyone else's limitations and history to justify bad behavior
On the surface, it looks like compassion. Inside, it can feel like depletion — and for many, that depletion curdles into resentment.
That's the muscle of care: a bulging bicep built from serving everyone else, and a weak tricep that struggles to lift a finger for herself. She'll show up fiercely for everyone in her life and somehow never count herself among them.
This is one of the core kindness traps: everyone else's needs are urgent and legitimate. Mine are optional, and at best, an inconvenience.
If that dismissive, minimizing voice sounds familiar, I wrote more about where it comes from in Meet Your Inner Critic: The Voice That's Been Running Your Life (And How to Take It Back).
If this is resonating, you might be ready for Manifestation & Momentum.
The Fawn Response Dressed Up as Generosity
Underneath stories like these is usually the same nervous system pattern: fawning. Fawning is a trauma response where we stay safe by being helpful and agreeable, anticipating other people's needs, and lowering our own so we don't rock the boat. On the outside, it looks like high empathy. On the inside, it often feels like walking away from yourself, a little bit at a time.
Fawners read people exquisitely well — a difficult parent excused because of his own hard upbringing, a spouse whose anxiety lets him off the hook for showing up as an equal partner.
They move quickly into empathy for the people who don't show up for them, and just as quickly away from their own wants and needs.
This isn't "just how she is." It's a survival strategy learned in families and relationships where it didn't feel safe to take up space. Left untreated, this is how OKS goes chronic: it becomes a liability the moment her nervous system needs rest — and the people around her actually need her to stop over-functioning on their behalf. (See "When You've Become the Project Manager Instead of the Parent.")
When Aphukenbrake Is Actually the Kindest Thing
For many over-givers, the word "freedom" feels dangerous. So let's call it medicine instead: Aphukenbrake (thank you to my clients G & B for naming it this week) — little dips into freedom, as needed:
Taking the trip without the attached guilt
Letting someone else carry their own anxiety instead of carrying it for them
Stepping out of the role of family problem-solver
These small dips into freedom can feel, on the surface, like abandoning the people who depend on you. But here's what I see over and over: when people finally take the space they need, they're calmer and more present with the people they love. When they stop absorbing everyone else's emotional weather, the people around them slowly — sometimes awkwardly — start managing their own. Resentment loosens its grip.
The lamb from the start of this piece is catching herself mid-pattern. Instead of rushing to fix her husband's anxiety over something minor, she's started saying, "I'm not going to fix it for you. I need you to manage that." Small sentence, enormous shift. She's also started choosing when to visit her "not so nice" father — on days the relationship feels easier, not just whenever she's summoned. Every one of these moments still comes with a flicker of fear and guilt. She's doing it anyway.
Freedom isn't the opposite of kindness.
It's a deeper, truer form of it — one that includes you, respects your nervous system, and honors that you're a person with your own life, not just where everyone else's hardest feelings get routed.
A sacrificial lamb, after all, can't be an effective shepherd. When kindness starts costing you your body, your rest, your sense of self, it's not kindness anymore — it's self-erasure.
A Reflection You Can Try If You're Stuck in the Kindness Trap
Name your pattern, without judgment. "I call it kindness, but I'm exhausted and quietly resentful." "I soften my needs before anyone else can call them selfish."
Ask where you learned your needs were inconvenient. A family of origin? A relationship that rewarded you for needing little? A crisis that never really ended?
Imagine someone you love living by your same rule. Would you want that for them? If not, stop wanting it for yourself.
Write yourself a prescription. "I have permission to want time alone." "I have permission to take an Aphukenbrake without earning it through burnout first."
Choose one tiny act of freedom. Book the trip. Let someone else sit with their own hard feeling. Say no to one auto-yes this week — just to be kind to yourself.
Let it be small. Let it feel slightly audacious. Let it test your belief that everything falls apart the moment you stop holding it together.
You don't become less loving when you step out of the role of constant giver. You become more whole — and more available in the moments that actually matter. Sometimes the kindest thing you can do for the people you love is to take your medicine: Aphukenbrake. Diagnosis: treatable.
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If Aphukenbrake doesn't seem to take the edge off-- or if you can't find the time for it, you might be ready for:
Fall Manifestation & Momentum for Women Starts the week after next (Sept. 16!)
Who it's for:
The woman who has put everyone else first for years and has a quiet sense of emptiness she doesn’t feel completely entitled to and can’t exactly name.
On paper everything looks fine, but when she makes quiet self-deprecating jokes like "I'm a failure" when she looses a round of mahjong, she's not entirely kidding.
She just hasn't had an opportunity to focus on what's "for her" in a long time, and it's been a while since anyone's told her what an amazing job she actually does. That changes here.
What is it?
6 live meetings in small groups over Zoom led by Michelle Robertson, ICF-certified life coach
Recorded so that missing one doesn't mean you fall behind
SMALL groups so you have face-to-face coaching with Michelle and plenty of airtime in the room. (They also sell out!)
When?
Wednesdays from at 12-1:30 p.m. ET beginning Sept. 16 followed by Sept. 30, Oct 14, 28, Nov 11, and Dec 2. Register here.
(There's a Tuesday evening group from from 6:30-8 p.m. that has entered a wait list. If you'd prefer this time, please add your name here.)
What You'll Walk Away with After the First Meeting:
The ability to finally say out loud: "I connected authentically with other amazing women -- and was finally able to admit what I want for ME... AND choose my first step." #momentum
You'll Pass the Tuesday Test:
By the end of one session, you'll be taking an actionable first step toward something meaningful to YOU. One woman told her husband she wanted dance back in her life, booked a beginner class, and showed up the next Tuesday. #winner
How Much?
$450
Payment: $200 today to reserve your spot. Click here.
$250 due 48 hours before our first session.
Guarantee:
Come to your first two meetings and complete the Tuesday Test mini‑win we set together. If, after the second meeting, you don’t feel clearer and supported, email me within 24 hours and I’ll refund $300.
Want to chat?
Email me at michelle@michellerobertsoncoaching.com and we'll set a time.
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Click here for information about 1-on-1 coaching.
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