Learning to Just Say No

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

 Yesterday, I said no.

I said no to reviewing a submission for an academic journal. There was too much to tackle in the submission piece, and I only have a few days left before I’m off the grid for a week...and then I’m back to work. I said no because I didn’t have the time, the energy, or the mental capacity to tackle the job. I said no, even though I knew I was passing the work on to someone else, and letting a friend down. My inner child was stomping on the floor, yelling “I don’t want to!” I listened. I said no.

At 1 a.m., after a glass of wine or several, I told my inner child it was time for bed. I emailed my friend back and said I could do it if no one else could. Turns out I hadn’t learned yet how to actually say no. (Thankfully, my friend emailed back and said no worries, he’d pass it on to someone else. I escaped my own trap through no skill of my own.) Today, I told myself that not only would I listen to my own instincts and my inner child, but I would honor my own needs. I would practice saying no and sticking to it. 

Today, I said no.

I said no to pitching 10-12 article ideas for a policing magazine, a possible career-enhancer and money-maker, building my freelance career. But I am not an expert in the field of policing; it’s not my passion or knowledge-base. My focus and energy needs to go into my actual career, not my side-hustle, not right now. And I don’t want to spend the year panicking because I have to create content when I’m not secure of my own footing and knowledge in the industry. I said no, and it was a breath of fresh air, knowing that I didn’t have to commit to that yearlong panic that I was going to let someone in the industry—or myself—down. I listened to my inner child, the one who was whispering, “I really don’t want to do this,” and I said, “okay. You don’t have to.You can say no.” So I did.

Today, I said no.

I got back on skates for only the 2nd time since the great ankle breakage of 2019. I was nervous, but focused, and promised myself that if I felt tired, or unstable, or sore, or anything other than comfortable and confident, I would take a knee. I know that I got hurt before because I was competing with my own insecurities, with not wanting to look dumb, with not wanting to look weak or inadequate or out of shape or old. I’m Gen X, raised with that “No Pain No Gain” bullshit that left us all perpetually injured and consistently in our heads, measuring ourselves against everyone else and setting unachievable goals. So I put the skates on, and with all of the support and no judgement from the team, I slowly did a few drills. And when my back got tired, I took a knee. A few minutes later I got back up, did another drill or three. And when my inner child felt scared, I took another knee. 

By saying no when I needed to, I’ll be able to skate again tomorrow.

I’ve read so many articles today talking about Naomi Osaka and Simone Biles and how they knew that they weren't in the right head space to compete. And I’ve read so many asshole comments from couch-sitters who seem to think that these women owe them—and this country—the sacrifice of their health and safety. I re-watched the horror of the Kerri Strug moments in 1996 when she didn’t say no—when she gave in to the pressure from her coaches, her country, and her internal monologue—and she nailed that 2nd vault and ruined her ankle. At the time, Kerri was celebrated as a hero. Looking back, we see a child who didn’t have a voice—didn’t have a choice—who didn’t have the power to say no.

I don’t ever want to see another athlete say yes when they know they should say no. Simone and Naomi—THANK YOU. Thank you for showing us all how to say no.

I don’t need to be a world-class athlete to follow Simone’s and Naomi’s incredible examples and listen to myself—not the insecure, judgy self who is sure that everyone is watching, the self who compares her progress to everyone else and falls short—but to listen to the self that is willing to take stock of her needs and is willing to say no.

Photo by Isaiah Rustad on Unsplash

“No Pain No Gain'' is an abusive mindset. It’s a harmful myth. We owe it to ourselves to listen to our minds and our bodies. To listen to our reservations. To listen to our inner child. To ask her why she really wants to say no, and to honor her. Because that inner child—she knows that it’s okay to say no, and she doesn’t have to justify it to anyone, least of all herself.

A Letter to Dreamers. Searchers. Strivers. Me.

 Dear Dreamer:

The truth is, you’re a lot like your dad. You take up a lot of room. You are a big presence, physically and emotionally. You are not delicate. You are loud. You can be unintentionally cruel. You wear your heart on your sleeve, even though you are so often told to be vulnerable. You sound like you know it all, even when you know that you really don’t. You care. You care so much. Too much.

But you are also striving to listen, to learn, to understand. You are striving to understand your privilege. The world. You are striving to understand yourself and why you’ve made so many bad choices. And you are brave AF. Maybe there’s a connection there, between bravery and bad choices. You should look into that in your free time. 

You are striving to understand why you take so much on to pay the bills and feel like you matter —like you are making a mark— but then you buy another ill-fitting shirt from China at 2 a.m., hoping it will suddenly make you feel beautiful. Make you beautiful.

Girl. You ARE beautiful. I hope that someday, you can see it, feel it, know it. You are more than the space you take up.

This is the letter you should have written to yourself two weeks ago, instead of the letter of to-do lists and shoulds that you wrote and once again didn’t live up to.

And that —this— this is why I write.

With love,

Me