No, this is not me launching into some sort of rant about how “you can’t tell me what to do.” Instead, it’s so much more about the psychological impact of what happens when you tell me I can’t do something. Or that if I try to do something, I’ll probably fail at it, so why should I even try in the first place? In my experience, when you tell me that I can’t do something, I respond one of two ways. And neither is necessarily all that great for my mental health.

Internalizing My Perceived Weakness

I remember when I first told some family and friends that I was going tent camping for the first time with #5DadsGoWild two years ago. They said there’s no way I’d be able to do it. After all, here I was, a city boy who was as far removed from a rugged outdoorsman as they get. I’d never put up my own tent or even started my own campfire. How was I possibly going to do this?

Truth be told, they were probably right. I don’t know the first thing about surviving in the woods. And as much as I joke about how I have years of camping experience now, I still have no idea what I’m doing. Right away and even to this day, I continue to internalize that perceived weakness. Maybe that’s why I lean on the experience and expertise of my fellow dad campers. That’s why Stacey rescued me when my tent collapsed under the snow last year.

With such a fragile sense of self-worth, I’m constantly questioning my competence. It’s no wonder that I internalize it when people say I can’t do something. That’s probably why I struggle asking for help too. If I ask for help, I only confirm what (I think) other people already think about me: that I can’t do it myself. And so, the vicious cycle renews, reinforcing this sense of incompetence and uselessness.

Setting Out to Prove You Wrong

And then, there’s the other side to all this. When you tell me I can’t do something, as I mentioned above, one of two things happens. If I don’t internalize this negative judgement of my ability, then I double-down on my efforts to prove you wrong. Oh, you say I can’t do this? I’ll show you!

On the surface, this may sound like a positive thing. When I first started writing and editing professionally, some 14 years ago, my parents weren’t exactly optimistic about my prospects. They talked about it as something I could do “until I got a real job.” They figured this freelance writing and working from home thing was a harmless hobby, something I could do “for now” to keep me occupied until I got my act together. Until I realized for myself that this wasn’t going to work.

Honestly, this just motivated me further. Now, nearly a decade and a half later, I’ve written three books and sustained a comfortable middle-class income. We bought our first home and, aside from the mortgage, we’re totally debt-free. Today, one of my first ever freelance clients is actually a proper employer, though I continue to work from home. That’s no “harmless hobby.” It’s a legitimate career and I’m proud of it. All good things, right?

Taken as a whole, my defensive reaction to my parents worked in my favor. But, I can also see how it could have gone horribly wrong. My stubborn drive to prove them wrong could have blinded me from other opportunities. What if the freelance work dried up and I refused to consider more conventional jobs? What would have happened then? Clinging to a sinking ship, all in the name of pride, isn’t such a bright idea.

I Can’t Do It (Not Good Enough)

Sometimes, when someone tells me that you can’t do something, they honestly mean well. They’re trying to help you avoid inevitable failure. That way, or so they think, you don’t waste your time and energy on something that’s not going to work out anyway. But, this is “helpful advice” that might not be so helpful. Just like when you remind me that it “could be worse.” I know it could be worse, just as I know that I’m still clueless about camping.

All that ends up happening is that I’ll just feel worse about myself. Every day, I continue to struggle with this idea of doing enough or being enough. And if I truly can’t do this thing that you’re telling me I can’t do, that’s just further “evidence” that I’m not good enough. That’s not what I need.

While toxic positivity is also problematic in its own right, I’ll take feeling supported over feeling inferior any day.