I never say I can’t. Not never never. But hardly ever. Really, what is ‘can’t’?
Physically cannot? But I can.
Emotionally cannot? But I can.
I believe anything is possible. There is no can’t.
(But should I?)
Last week I said ‘I can’t.’ To things I’d worked for, things I wanted. And I was / am so angry at myself. It’s not over, I’ve rescheduled the work, I’ll still meet the goals. But gosh I’m tired. And scared that this is the new normal – even though I know perfectly well, this is how it goes: round and round. Do a big thing, feel overwhelmed and exhausted, recover, get excited and do another big thing, repeat. It’s like I can have a whole life peaceful or a half-life awesome. And I will always choose the awesome. And then act surprised by the consequences.
I don’t want to be babied, it makes me want to fight to prove I ‘can’ (forget whether I ‘should’). There’s a self-care lesson in here. What does ‘can’t’ look like? Or, more importantly, why does it feel okay to say ‘no’ or ‘can’t’ when you get slow-down signs physically, but not when you get them mentally or emotionally? And I don’t think ‘balance’ is the answer because half the time ‘regular’ is far enough outside of my comfort zone to be ‘too much’ anyway. Maybe I’m scared that if I start saying ‘can’t’ I won’t stop. So I don’t.
Putting yourself out there has consequences. Consequences like awesomeness. Sorry not sorry.