I’m working on something right now that involves reading a book I don’t understand. It’s on a topic so abstract and vast that I’ve cried several times trying to understand the first few chapters. The thing is, when I was offered this job, I knew I was temperamentally unsuited and too stupid for it. The conventional test for whether to agree to some future task is: would I want to do it if it were happening today? My answer would have been: “Absolutely not – are you crazy?” So why didn’t I say no?

Memoirist Leslie Jamison recently wrote in the New York Times about her “Notebook of Noes”, where she lists everything she turns down (speaking gigs, magazine commissions) and what that allows her to say yes to (more time with her daughter, her partner, her writing). It was inspiring: I cannot stress how little I am in demand, but even so, there are things I should decline (work I’m too dim for) to say yes to others (spying on garden bird drama).

I’m happy living an unexamined life as far as possible, but this situation has forced me into the realisation I’ll never get comfortable saying no until I’ve learned to hear no. Because if getting a no cuts you to the quick, triggering weeks of sulking and making you doubt your worth, you’ll struggle to dish them out.

But how? I’ve Googled and mainly found advice about toddlers – this says nothing good about my emotional maturity – and a blogpost from a “cuddle sanctuary” (something else I won’t be examining). Combining advice for children and cuddlers, I’ve devised a strategy. When I get a no, I should say OK – the first step to acceptance – and keep my hands and feet to myself. I need to notice my own unacknowledged expectations and any judgments I unfairly make about myself and others. I need to feel the difficult feelings, but also handle my emotions in a calm and respectful manner. Like all personal growth projects, it sounds awfully hard – but perhaps not as hard as this book.

• Emma Beddington is a Guardian columnist