I used to consider the phrase "I can’t" tantamount to treason. In fact, wherever the thought would cross my mind, it’d immediately be followed by, “Of course you can. You can always do more.”
For most of my adult life, I‘ve subconsciously believed that effort and resiliency were sufficient for achieving my goals. Work hard, persevere and win (or at least try again). The more I succeeded, the more I experienced the benefits of putting my trust in them. Unfortunately, I had no idea how the success I experienced would inadvertently contribute to my narrow definition of the phrase I can’t.
At first, I believed it meant something was impossible or simply too hard to accomplish. Then I began to experience life’s uncontrollable hardships in inescapable ways. Some were big and some were small but they all added up to me realizing I needed a more nuanced view of the phrase I can’t.
As I explored the idea, I began to realize my view of I can’t emphasized effort and physical capabilities. I had been completely ignoring the mental and emotional aspects of doing. This was most evident in my attempts to fulfill my role as a father and husband.
Occasionally I find myself coming home mentally and emotionally exhausted. In the past, when this occurred I would affirm my role as a husband, suck it up and handle business. That meant helping my wife with the kids, making time to connect and trying to get some chores done before the night was over. I had the best of intentions. Unfortunately, my good intentions didn’t always lead to good outcomes.
My attempts to give from an empty mental and emotional tank often turned into frustrated outbursts directed at my kids and resentful feelings for my wife. I was trying to be strong and resilient not realizing I was in no place to give. Instead, I was acting more like an athlete prolonging recovery by trying to push themselves through a strained muscle. Something I’ve also experienced, unfortunately.
During those times, I couldn’t fulfill my role lovingly. I needed a break and to be vulnerable enough to ask for help.
Occurrences like this ultimately led me to the belief that I can’t should be understood with our whole person in mind. When we do, the meaning evolves. For me, I can’t means I can’t without doing harm to myself or the relationships I treasure.
The phrase may mean something entirely different for you and that’s okay. What truly matters is having a healthy relationship with our physical, mental and emotional limitations.
Reflection:
What does the phrase I can’t mean to you?
Do you find it easy or hard to ask for help when things get tough?
Why?