Too nice..

A few weeks ago, I was driving in the car with one of my “youngsters.” We were talking about how some people just aren’t that nice—how you know, how you tell, and how you surround yourself with “nice” people. Then they said something that hit me so hard I still haven’t been able to shake it.

They said, “You, for example, are one of the nicest humans I know—and I’ve seen so many people treat you badly.”

Oof.

It struck me as both a beautiful and uncomfortable moment: one of my grown children recognizing something about me that is both a strength and a flaw. A character trait I’ve heard about my entire life—that I’m “too nice.” My mom used to warn me that being too nice would open me up to being taken advantage of. And, well… she wasn’t wrong. But she also wasn’t entirely right.

Because being nice has also opened me up to some wonderful things.

I raised my three children with niceness. I was told—often, and with great confidence—that this would backfire. That they’d manipulate me. That they’d walk all over me. I can honestly say that hasn’t happened. My kids aren’t perfect (who is?), but they are kind, respectful, and genuinely nice humans. They’re people I enjoy spending time with.

Have there been phases when they weren’t so nice to this mama? Absolutely. During those moments, instead of biting back with vengeance, I chose the nicer route. I gave them space to vent, time to be dysregulated, and then we talked. Did I bite my tongue more times than I can count? Yes. Was it worth it? Also yes.

Romantic relationships, however, have been a different story.

My niceness hasn’t always been reciprocated, and my belief that people are generally good has led me to ignore what others might call red flags—or excuse poor treatment altogether. Therapy has been a gift here, especially since I still have to communicate regularly with someone who is often angry and decidedly not nice. For years, I tried to counter that with niceness. Now, I communicate only when necessary, without niceties, and with clarity. I also freely admit that ChatGPT has helped me draft a few of those messages—so it’s not just therapy, but the interwebs, doing the hard work.

I’m no longer dating. I tried, but my tolerance for bullshit is hovering right around zero. Am I still nice? Yes. But I have better boundaries now. I finally understand that being nice doesn’t mean letting someone walk all over me, belittle me, or disrespect me. The wide berth for error I would’ve given someone in my 20s, 30s, and even 40s no longer exists. Kindness, I’ve learned, must be reciprocal. Online dating, in particular, seems to bring out the worst in people—and I’m simply not interested.

Friendships, on the other hand, have been one of the great rewards of being nice. I’ve met wonderful people who are kind, supportive, and trying—just like me—to navigate this chaotic stage of life with teenagers and grown children who, thanks to hormones and their own stuff, aren’t always so nice. I’ve also taken a closer look at relationships that felt consistently unkind and quietly stepped away. I no longer chase or maintain connections that drain me, and that is okay.

I’ve always been that person—the one strangers approach at bus stops or in lines. The talkers. The lonely. Sometimes people share things that would make your head spin. Unless I feel unsafe, I’m nice. I might be the only kindness they see that day. That said, I’ve learned to set boundaries here too.

A few weeks ago, a man who appeared to be homeless asked if I’d sit down and chat with him. It had been a particularly hard day, and I could’ve responded with irritation. Instead, I said, “Thank you for the offer, but today isn’t a good day.” He thanked me for being honest, told me to keep smiling, and said it was my smile that made him ask in the first place. Funny how an interaction I thought would be for his benefit turned out to be for mine.

So, can we be too nice? Is it a flaw or an endearing quality?

I don’t think niceness is the problem. The problem is niceness without boundaries. These days, I pay closer attention. I notice whether kindness is returned, whether respect is mutual, whether someone is actually nice—not just when it’s convenient, but consistently.

I’m still nice. I still believe in kindness. I just no longer confuse it with self-sacrifice. And honestly? That feels like growth.