I spent a good part of my teenage years trying to prove my dad wrong about one of his many *dadisms*.

“There’s no such thing as can’t.”

“Um, Dad. Can’t is literally in the dictionary.” He’d just look at me, not even annoyed, like he’d heard this exact argument a thousand times and it still didn’t move him an inch. He wasn’t talking about the dictionary. He was talking about the sentence that usually follows it.

I can’t do this. I can’t be that. I’m not the kind of person who does that.

I hated that saying. Mostly because he kept being right.

Here’s the thing about growing up with “there’s no such thing as can’t” ringing in your ears: it doesn’t stop the fear from showing up. It just stops you from getting to keep it as an excuse. I still feel the can’t. I feel it all the time. I just don’t get to end the sentence there anymore.

A few years ago, “I can’t facilitate” was a very real and very loud can’t in my head. I had never done it. I didn’t know if I had it in me. Now I run five YPO Key Associate Forums, and I genuinely light up when I walk into a room I get to facilitate. That used to be someone else’s job description, not mine.

Most recently, the can't showed up wearing a different costume. Michael Bungay Stanier, one of my favorite authors ever, opened applications to host a practice room for his upcoming event, Stay Curious LIVE. My brain did the thing it always does. Oh, I'm not doing that. I'm terrible on video. Who am I to put myself forward for this. Basically, imposter syndrome pretending to be good judgment.

Plus, they wanted a 90-second video.

It took me 50 takes.

Fifty. I am not exaggerating for effect, I wish I were. It was an entire day of arguing with the version of me that wanted to just quietly not submit anything and call it "being realistic."

I kept going because I thought more takes meant better. More polished. More composed. More of whatever I thought “good on camera” was supposed to look like.

But somewhere around take 20, I noticed I didn’t sound like me anymore. By take 50, I sounded polished and hollow. So I went back to the very first one - messy and a little nervous and completely me, and that's the one I sent. And…I got selected!

Turns out the lesson underneath the lesson wasn’t only “there’s no such thing as can’t.” It was also: trust yourself. The first instinct, the one that shows up before your inner critic gets its hands on it, is often the truest one.

I get to host a practice room with the MBS team now. If you know me, you know this would have sounded like pure fantasy five years ago. Not the “ambitious goal” fantasy. The “That happens to other people” fantasy.

What’s the thing you’ve already decided you can’t do?

Maybe you can’t. Or maybe you’re just scared, or inexperienced, or you don’t want to look foolish. Those aren’t the same thing.

Let your inner critic know: there’s no such thing as can’t. Instead, do it scared. Do it imperfectly. And before you spend 49 more tries turning it into something that no longer sounds like you, take another look at the first one.

Once again my can’t turned into a can. My practice room is about Noticing More. And I’d love to see you there.

Dammit, Dad. You were right. Again. Love you.

Written by Dick’s daughter.