Recently, I decided to re-watch a show that I’d last seen with my family years ago. Of course, in today’s day and age, binge-watching is more than possible. Needless to say, I certainly got sucked right back into it and my nights relaxing after work would be spent many times by watching multiple episodes back to back. If you’ve ever done this, you can relate to noticing key lines or phrases used in the show on a regular basis. You may not have noticed if you were to only watch one episode a week, but back to back? It’s more than obvious. The line which I noticed was repeated again and again, by more than one main character throughout the series, was “Don’t tell me what I can’t do.”

The first time I heard it, it just seemed like the character was taking a stand. The second time, I thought “wow, that’s the second time they’ve said that, they really need to talk their problem out with someone.” By the third time, it was obvious it wasn’t just a theme for that character, but for the group of people as a whole, each in their own way.

It was as if the pressure was getting to them more than they could even recognize for themselves…

In the case of this show, ironically, the character who said it most was one of the characters seen as the ‘leader’ of the group. It was the one who others would turn to for answers. It was the one who always had an answer for them. It was the one who felt looked over when a different leader was more respected. They’d lash out with “Don’t tell me what I can’t do” when they were questioning their own past and what got them to that point. It was as if the pressure was getting to them more than they could even recognize for themselves, but as soon as someone verbalized that same doubt, they had to push themselves to affirm their own choice, right or not.

We strive so hard to be respected, to be admired, and to be considered for advice, but yet when we are thrust into that role, it’s as if our human nature wants us to doubt that we’ve made the right choice, that we said the right thing, that we know how to go forward.

Isn’t it true, though, at some point in time, you’ve thought the same thing? Well, you are not alone. I believe it’s simply part of being human. We strive so hard to be respected, to be admired, and to be considered for advice, but yet when we are thrust into that role, it’s as if our human nature wants us to doubt that we’ve made the right choice, that we said the right thing, that we know how to go forward. When that nature is coupled with someone, often someone with our own best interests in mind, who encourages us to pause and possibly offers another suggestion, we lash out. We lash out in the form of digging our heels in, clenching our fists, needing to do it “my way,” and saying “Don’t tell me what I can’t do.”

Sometimes, we may have been headed in the right direction anyway, but by lashing out, we just hurt someone close to us. Or, we just managed to drive a wedge in the middle of a growing relationship because we couldn’t just stop and listen. Slipping into the mindset of “Don’t tell me what I can’t do” can be so dangerous. It’s not a good place to be in whether we are right about how we want to proceed or not.

In the business world, for instance, many women have had to adopt that mentality in order to be taken seriously or respected. That’s a great thing to strive for! The want of being respected and taken seriously is great, no matter who you are! But, the danger comes in the long term mindset shift. I’ve seen many people in very tough job positions, men and women, who likely got there because they refused to take no for an answer and pushed through and up; I applaud those efforts. The problem, though, is that because they were pushing for so long and because they had to question if people actually respected them for so long, the “don’t tell me what I can’t do” mentality took over. Some have become leaders in their workplace or even within ministry who refuse to listen to well-meaning advice or suggestions that could, ultimately, better serve them. Some have fostered a sort of fear amongst their subordinates or volunteers that they can never speak up or they’ll be shot down because the leader simply can’t bear to be wrong. …beginning to see the loop? What happens when someone is repeatedly told to keep quiet? They will then be more likely to grow up saying the exact same thing – Don’t tell me what I can’t do! This is a never-ending loop that we have to deal with. We must break the cycle.

The second it becomes more important to be right, than it is to be ever-learning and growing, is the second the words “Don’t tell me what I can’t do” angrily escape our lips.

We were not created to be able to do every single thing. We were not created with equal talents and skills. We were created to be fully and wholly unique with different gifts and talents to bring to the table. The cycle can stop once we learn to listen. Once we accept that our ideas can be awesome, and might even be the best way to proceed, but that we must choose to present them in love, everything can change. “Consider everyone as equal, and don’t think that you’re better than anyone else. … Don’t think that you’re so smart.” – Romans 12:16 (NIV). I’m not saying that there will never be someone in life who tries to get you down or refuses to listen to your ideas no matter how much love you give. What I am saying, is to still never stop loving and hearing people out. The second it becomes more important to be right, than it is to be ever-learning and growing, is the second the words “Don’t tell me what I can’t do” angrily escape our lips.

I thought I could do it all, and in a way, I was proud of my ability to appear that way to others.

Sometimes we have to take a moment to just breathe and lighten the burden we carry of feeling like we can never be wrong, and must always be right and perfect. No one is perfect. I’m sure you heard that at one point or another in life, just as I did, and still do. So many times, I would try to have it all together which would lead to me being overtired, feeling burdened, and then I’d lash out. I’d take it out on my sister or my parents most often (because they still had to love me anyway, right?) and I’d keep it all together for the rest of the world to see. My parents would tell me I was “burning the candle on both ends” and in more words I would say “Don’t tell me what I can’t do!” I thought I could do it all, and in a way, I was proud of my ability to appear that way to others. I was carrying the burden of so many, but it was leading me right into the pattern that I’d fought so hard to overcome. In a twisted sort of way, I had managed to keep up the appearance of being all put together on the outside, and yet I was falling apart on the inside in more ways than one. (That’s a story for another time.) The people who loved me most were the ones who kept trying to be the voice of reason to me and I was too proud to hear it. It took some crazy experiences and close-calls to be able to get to the point where I said, “Ok, lesson learned.”

Here’s the catch, though, I continually need to learn that lesson. We all do. I had to take a step back from all my commitments and force myself to just be still. “’Be still, and know that I am God.’” – Psalm 46:10 (NIV). I had to give myself time to break the cycle of feeling like I had to carry everyone elses burdens, and have all the answers, and have it all together all the time. I decided I didn’t want to become someone who was so determined to do right for others that I became blind to others’ voices of reason. “Pride leads to conflict; those who take advice are wise.” – Proverbs 13:10 (NLT). The lesson never ends, really. The desire to be taken seriously and have it all together never does go away. What does change is our ability to overcome all of it with love if only we take a moment to breathe and listen.