Embracing a High-Maintenance Mindset for a Fulfilling Life

In my twenties, I viewed being labeled as “low-maintenance” as a compliment. It signified I was agreeable and easy to get along with, especially in dating. I focused on being appealing to others without questioning if I genuinely liked them.

As I explored more intentional dating, that perspective shifted. This journey hasn’t been simple; discovering what I value and what I can’t stand has been both eye-opening and challenging. Yet, embracing my so-called “high-maintenance” traits has been enlightening: it’s about establishing standards and not settling for less.

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

Why High-Maintenance is Worth Embracing

Embracing high-maintenance is about living with clarity and intention. It involves prioritizing what feels right, understanding my needs, and maintaining my boundaries unapologetically. When I stop catering to others and start acknowledging my desires, life transitions from compromise to harmony.

Here’s my argument for wanting more—not more clutter, distractions, or noise, but more intentionality, beauty, and joy. I proudly label that as 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.

Revising the High-Maintenance Label

At some point, “high-maintenance” became synonymous with too much. Too emotional, too assertive, too picky. It’s a term often used to undermine women who know what they want and express it. For years, I resisted this label, thinking being easy-going made me more lovable and that suppressing my preferences was the polite thing to do.

However, I’ve realized that sacrificing my needs for the sake of being “low-maintenance” isn’t effortless—it’s exhausting. It drains my energy as I try to predict what will please others rather than focusing on my fulfillment. This self-neglect may seem calm, but it’s a hidden betrayal of my true needs.

So, I’m reclaiming the term. To me, being high-maintenance means living with intention. It’s about making choices that add value, rejecting what doesn’t, and showing up for myself. Whether it’s in relationships, daily routines, or home decor, it’s a practice of self-respect that signals I care enough about myself—and others—to clearly communicate my needs.

Boundaries as a Form of Care

For too long, I confused flexibility with kindness. I believed that saying yes to plans I didn’t want to engage in or to people who didn’t reciprocate my efforts was generous. In reality, it left me feeling drained. When accustomed to being low-maintenance, establishing boundaries can seem threatening to your likability. Yet, they form the backbone of genuine connections.

In this new dating era, I’ve recognized how much of my “chill” persona stemmed from neglecting my own needs. I accepted less than what I deserved to avoid being perceived as demanding. But boundaries aren’t walls—they’re invitations that foster honest, respectful relationships, banishing underlying resentment.

Boundaries extend beyond relationships; they’re vital in how we allocate our time, manage work, and even in rest. Embracing high-maintenance means noticing when I’m running on empty and making the choice to change that. It’s about saying yes to myself rather than just no to others.

Creating a High-Maintenance Lifestyle

Redefining high-maintenance starts with self-awareness and boundaries, while curating it involves integrating that understanding into daily life. It’s not about complexity or excess; it’s about identifying what makes me feel grounded, cherished, and alive—and making room for it.

For me, it’s the small rituals that transform ordinary moments into something special. It’s investing in the moisturizer that prompts me to pause and reflect each night. It’s setting a table for one, even when dining alone. It’s preferring quiet over constant distraction and solitude over superficial connection.

This mindset also influences how we dress, decorate, and structure our days. It could mean curating my closet to showcase only beloved pieces, lighting a candle before my morning journaling session, or opting to walk to my favorite coffee shop instead of rushing through a drive-thru. These intentional acts remind us that care and beauty can harmonize with practicality.

Giving Yourself Permission to Desire More

I spent so long believing that wanting more was a sign of ingratitude. I assumed that contentment meant silencing my desires and that ambition and appreciation were mutually exclusive. In reality, we can embrace both: deeply loving our lives while envisioning what’s next.

Recognizing high-maintenance has revealed that desire is a guiding force. Our wants—connection, creativity, beauty—aren’t expressions of greed; they’re indicators of where growth awaits.

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

There’s strength in declaring what you want, even if it feels bold or uncomfortable. Acknowledging your desires isn’t about chasing perfection; it’s about recognizing that I’m worth the effort required to create a life that resonates with me.

Living Intentionally

With age, I’ve come to understand that ease stems not from doing less, but from aligning with what truly matters. Living intentionally means embracing the effort needed to craft a fulfilling life. It’s not about convenience or control, but about care.

Being high-maintenance, as I’ve redefined it, embodies self-respect. It’s about being mindful of how we spend our time, what we welcome into our lives, who we allow close, and how we treat ourselves. It’s recognizing that when something demands your energy, it should also give back.

This new era I’m stepping into celebrates choosing everything in my life—from loved ones to products—because I’ve made that choice. Not because it’s easy or widely accepted, but because it reflects what truly matters to me.

Embracing a New Era

I once equated being high-maintenance with being excessive. Too particular, too assertive, too aware of what I wanted. Yet, knowing what you want is a form of strength; it shows you’ve engaged in self-reflection.

This is the era I’m claiming—one defined by discernment, depth, and the conviction that my needs are not burdens; they’re invitations. To choose what aligns with me, to release what doesn’t, and to continue shaping a life that feels authentically mine.

Perhaps high-maintenance was never the issue. Perhaps the real challenge was self-neglect—diluting my true self to ensure others felt comfortable. I’m no longer interested in that kind of ease.