We’ve all been there. Plans were made. You were looking forward to the lunch, the walk, the visit.
And then, cancelled.
Maybe you had to rearrange your schedule, line up child care, or talk yourself into showing up at all. And then the message comes: “I’m so sorry, but I can’t make it.”
It’s tempting to lean into the shame and blame game: to make them feel badly, to prove your own loyalty, to emphasize how often you show up.
But here’s the truth:
Guilt is not a pretty motivator.
It generates ill will, not intimacy. It fosters distrust, not deeper connection. And when you try to guilt someone into showing up, you may succeed - but you won't get the version of them that’s truly present or capable. You'll get someone guarded, resentful, and bracing for judgment.
And anyway, we never truly know what’s going on behind the scenes with others.
That person who cancelled? She might be sitting in her parked car, shaking from a panic attack. Or on the floor of her laundry room, holding the pieces of herself together because she just received devastating news. He might be staring at a spreadsheet, feeling like a failure at work, wondering how to tell his partner that their finances are falling apart. They might be caring for a child who hasn't slept in days, or simply staring at the wall wondering if they can make it through the week.
Grief, burnout, hormones, heartbreak, health scares, caregiving, divorce, depression, overstimulation, overwhelm - these are not things people post on their Instagram stories.
These are the real, raw, often silent struggles people carry while trying to maintain their commitments and relationships.
People postpone and reschedule with me all the time. Truly. And I do not take it personally. That’s not a moral badge - it’s self-preservation, and it’s love. I’ve learned that offering others the benefit of the doubt is not about being naive; it’s about recognizing that compassion is a more reliable bridge than guilt.
When someone switches up the plan on me, I choose to send them well wishes instead of a wounded silence. “Thanks for letting me know - take care of you.” That’s it.
No “again?”
No “I rearranged everything for this.”
Just grace. Simple, kind, and surprisingly liberating.
Because when I cancel - yes, me too (more than I’d like too) - I want to be held with that same softness. I want to know I don’t need to explain the details of my fatigue or certain circumstances to be treated with kindness.
I want to be trusted. I want to be loved in the gaps.
So this is a call to drop the guilt, the passive-aggressive remarks, the cold shoulders. People are not disappointing you to hurt you. They are often just trying to survive.
Guilt makes people feel bad about themselves. Grace makes people feel seen as themselves.
If your goal is deeper connection, trust, or a return to something more solid and joyful - don’t reach for guilt. Reach for kindness. Consciously choose curiosity over criticism, and tenderness over tally-keeping. It changes everything.
And so next time someone cancels, let your response be the soft place they didn’t know they needed. You’ll be amazed at how often they come back - not out of obligation, but because it feels safe to be human around you.