The terrible lies in my language.
How often do you lie? Seriously, just imagine that it’s just you and me, sitting quietly outside of a cabin overlooking a lake, with the sun setting majestically over the mountains.
The air is crisp, clean and wonderful. There’s no one else around, just the two of us quietly discussing life, dreams and our questions. Your answer will be completely confidential. :)
How often do you lie?
As a teenager, I can tell you it was a lot. As I’ve grown older, I am hopefully better at being honest, but we all lie to a degree. Sometimes it’s the little white lies, or the lies where we are not admitting just how tired, burned out and in need of sleep we are, so that we can spend time serving someone who needs our help.
You’ve been there, I know you have.
But recently, I’ve become aware of a lie that I’ve been using all my life. It’s a clever lie, one that most often I tell to myself rather than to others. It’s a lie that can destroy all hope, create incredible frustration and limit us in ways that are too terrible to contemplate.
Most dangerous of all, it’s a really short lie. It’s not hard to say, it immediately stops us from trying, and it can ruin your life faster than you can imagine.
Two words. 5 letters and one small piece of punctuation. It’s simply this…. “I can’t”.
Because most of the time, when I think that “I can’t”, it’s a lie because what I really mean is, “I don’t want to do that, because it looks hard, or it could be unpleasant, or it might result in failure and I’m scared to risk my sense of significance because that could mean I wouldn’t be loved”.
So it’s easier to say, “I can’t”.
Because when I admit that “I don’t want to” or “I’m scared to”, then I have to deal with the realization that I’m making a choice, and that choice has consequences that I have to face.
If it’s something I really can’t do, then it’s not my fault, there’s no choice, no guilt, no problem….right? But if I’m saying that “I don’t want to”, then I’m admitting that I can, but I won’t.
Even when I know that I should.
It’s been such a convenient lie; one that has helped me to avoid things in my life that have been my responsibility, but also my fears. So a simple “I can’t” has made it all go away, until time catches up with me, and I am forced to accept that I can, if only I am prepared to accept the hardship that comes with it.
But I need to get on with things, because the scary thing about “I can’t” as a lie is that if you tell it long enough, it becomes true.
Because time runs out, age catches up to us, and eventually, when you have no other refuge from reality, you realize that it is too late, that it is now impossible.
That “I can’t” has turned an excuse into an executioner.
And his name is Regret.
— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings