My Era of Embracing High Maintenance

For most of my twenties, I thought being “low-maintenance” was a compliment. It meant I was likable, agreeable, and easy-going. In dating, especially, I believed my job was to be chosen—to make myself attractive to someone else. That was long before I even asked the more important question: Did I actually like them?

As I’ve stepped into more intentional dating, that mindset has unraveled. It hasn’t been easy—learning what I value in others (and what immediately gives me the ick) has been both challenging and revelatory. But redefining and owning my so-called “high-maintenance” qualities has taught me something important: being high-maintenance isn’t about being arbitrarily difficult. It’s about setting standards, and refusing to let anything into my life that dips below them.

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Featured image from our interview with Iskra Lawrence by Michelle Nash.

Why I’m Embracing High-Maintenance (And You Should Too)

I’m embracing high-maintenance as a way of living with greater clarity and care. To me, it means prioritizing what feels good, refining what I need, and honoring my boundaries without apology. Because when I stop performing for other people and start claiming what I actually want, life feels less like compromise and more like alignment.

So here’s my case for wanting more. Not more noise, more stuff, or more distraction—but more intention, more beauty, more of what brings me joy. And yes, I’ll happily call that high-maintenance.

Being high-maintenance isn’t about being arbitrarily difficult. It’s about setting standards, and refusing to let anything into my life that dips below them.

Redefining High-Maintenance

Somewhere along the way, “high-maintenance” became shorthand for too much. Too emotional, too opinionated, too particular. It’s a label that’s often used to shrink women, especially those who know what they want and aren’t afraid to say it. For years, I resisted it. I thought that being easy-going made me more lovable, that keeping my preferences quiet was the polite—and right—thing to do.

But I’ve learned that being “low-maintenance” at the expense of yourself isn’t effortless. Actually? It’s exhausting. You spend your energy trying to anticipate what will make others comfortable instead of asking what will make you fulfilled. That kind of self-erasure might look calm on the surface, but underneath, it’s a quiet betrayal of your needs.

So I’ve started to reclaim the term. To me, embracing high-maintenance means living deliberately. It’s about choosing what adds value, refusing what doesn’t, and showing up for your life with discernment. Whether it’s in relationships, routines, or the way you decorate your home, it’s a practice of self-respect. It says: I care enough about myself—and the people in my life—to be clear about what I need.

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Boundaries as an Act of Care

For so long, I mistook flexibility for kindness. I thought saying yes—to plans I didn’t have the energy for, to people who didn’t meet me halfway—made me generous. But really, it just made me depleted. When you’re used to being low-maintenance, boundaries can feel like a threat to your likability. The truth is, they’re the foundation of meaningful connection.

In this new era of dating, I’ve come to realize how much of my chill girl persona was built on quiet self-abandonment. I didn’t want to seem demanding, so I accepted less than I needed. But boundaries aren’t barriers—they’re invitations. They create space for relationships that are rooted in honesty and mutual respect, instead of quiet resentment.

And boundaries don’t just belong in relationships. They’re essential in how we spend our time, how we work, and even how we rest. Embracing high-maintenance means noticing where you’ve been running on empty and deciding you won’t live there anymore. It’s less about saying no to others and more about saying yes to yourself.

Curating Your High-Maintenance Mindset

If redefining high-maintenance starts internally—with self-awareness and boundaries—then curating it is how we bring that awareness into our daily lives. It’s not about complication or excess. It’s about learning what makes you feel grounded, cared for, and alive—and choosing to make space for it.

For me, it’s the rituals that turn ordinary moments into something sacred. It’s splurging on the moisturizer I use every night because it makes me pause and breathe. It’s setting the table, even when I’m dining solo. It’s choosing quiet over constant stimulation, solitude over forced connection.

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This mindset extends beyond self-care as well. It’s in how we dress, decorate, and design our days. Maybe it’s editing your closet to include only the pieces you truly love, lighting a candle before your morning journaling session, or walking to your favorite coffee shop instead of rushing through a drive-thru. These small, deliberate acts remind us that care and beauty can coexist with practicality.

Try this: Take inventory of one area of your life—your routine, your space, or your relationships—and ask: Does this feel like me? If the answer is no, what would make it feel more aligned? Often, it’s not about adding something new, but removing what no longer serves you.

Permission to Want More

For so long, I believed that wanting more made me ungrateful. I thought contentment meant staying quiet with what I had, that ambition and appreciation couldn’t coexist. The truth is, we can hold both: we can love our lives deeply while still envisioning what’s next.

Embracing high-maintenance has helped me see that desire isn’t something to downplay. It’s a compass. The things we want—connection, creativity, beauty—aren’t signs of greed or vanity. They’re signals of where we’re being called to grow.

When we stop apologizing for wanting more, we start living from a place of expansion rather than fear.

There’s power in naming what you want, even if it feels bold or a little uncomfortable. When you honor your desires, you’re not chasing perfection—you’re saying, I’m worth the effort it takes to live a life that feels true to me.

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Try this: Think about one area of your life where you’ve been settling—your work, your relationships, your routines. What would “more” look like there? What’s one small action you could take this week to move closer to it?

Living With Intention

The older I get, the more I realize that ease doesn’t come from doing less—it comes from doing what’s aligned. Living with intention means making peace with the effort required to build a life that feels good. It’s not about convenience or control, but care.

Being high-maintenance, in the way I’ve come to define it, is really about self-respect. It’s the choice to pay attention to how we spend our time, what we bring into our homes, who we allow close, and how we show up for ourselves. It’s knowing that when something requires your energy, it should also return it.

That’s the quiet beauty of this era I’m stepping into: everything in my life, from the people I love to the products I use, is here because I’ve chosen it. Not because it’s easy, or expected, or universally liked, but because it reflects what matters to me.

Try this: Look around your life and notice what feels effortless and what feels draining. What would it look like to edit your days with the same care you bring to your favorite rituals?

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A New Era

For so long, I equated high-maintenance with being too much. Too particular, too opinionated, too aware of what I wanted. But knowing what you want is a strength. It means you’ve done the work to listen to yourself.

This is the era I’m claiming: one defined by discernment, by depth, and by the belief that my needs are not burdens—they’re invitations. To choose what feels aligned, to let go of what doesn’t, and to keep shaping a life that feels like my own.

Because maybe high-maintenance was never the problem. Maybe the real maintenance was the act of self-abandonment—of diluting who we are to make others comfortable. The truth: I’m no longer interested in that kind of ease.