1. "Asking people is too embarrassing."
This little lie is also known as "I can do it all by myself," which is really "I have to do it all by myself," which is really "I don't have anybody who will come through for me." Regardless of which of these versions your brain recognizes, what this zinger leads you to do is pack up your entire apartment by yourself, filling the boxes and dragging them one by one down the stairs and across the parking lot, dropping the wicker armchair off the balcony (it only broke a little), stuffing it all into a busted Yugo and making six trips to the storage facility, then collapsing and screaming at your friend when he calls to ask you to go out to dinner that night because you moved your whole house in one day by yourself!!! You can't eat pizza!! That is too labor-intensive!! Leading your friend to pause and finally respond, "Uh, why didn't you call me?" Leading you to sit there dumbfounded.

Did this story really happen? Yes, it did. I was the slow learner of this universal truth: Nobody moves alone. And by "moves," I don't just mean moves apartments or moves furniture. I mean moves in this world. Somewhere, there is some random person who will help you bake the 200 cupcakes or lug your crap to the airport or just stand next to you as you face down the ex-boyfriend at his engagement party for his upcoming nuptials to the 22-year-old who, by some freak of nature, was born without pores. This person, however, is not a mystic. You must text or email him (or her) for assistance—which, by the way, is just a little bit easier than picking up the phone and asking with your real, live human voice, especially for those of us new to disputing this lie.

2. "I'm too tired to make it to six o'clock."
Except that maybe you're dehydrated. Or maybe you didn't eat lunch. Or maybe you forgot your iron pill for the 200th time. Or maybe you're too stressed. Or maybe you're bored and discouraged and really, really need to start sending out that resume. Tired is often code for not taking care of yourself in the small, fundamental ways so requisite for happiness.

3. "He (or she) is a complete idiot."
This is a thought that passes through so many of our minds. Unfortunately, it's also a thought that's attached to the blimp that drifts over your head, where just about any human being in the world can read it—and instantly understand that you think he (or she) is an idiot, causing him (or her) pain that will rapidly change into a rabid, vindictive dislike of you for the rest of your relationship.

Worse, nobody is a complete idiot. They might be a half-idiot or a 14/15 idiot. They're an idiot at Scrabble but pretty brilliant at making homemade pasta. They're an idiot Monday through Friday, when you need them to back you up on the presentation, but a genius at home with their kid, whom they only get to see on weekends and who uses up all their IQ with endless one-color puzzles called Snow or Night. Calling somebody an idiot is one of those easy-to-enter mental prisons in which we ensconce ourselves at our own peril. An idiot, after all—be it our boss or ex-husband or the lady next door with the pet rooster—doesn't really have to be dealt with or learned from or recognized. We can check him or her off our to-deal-with list—leaving us more streamlined in our attentions, but not at all freer or wiser.

4. "I'm too old to go to big-animal vet school."
By big-animal vet school, I also mean tap-dancing academy or the Institute of International Hair Stylists. Because just about all of us have something extraordinary that we haven't yet done and still long to do. For example, I dreamed of a life birthing calves and owning a bunch of dogs and tromping around in the mud with my kids. And yet, while dreaming of it, I was careful to remind myself, "I'm 41; nobody goes to vet school at that age." So imagine my disorientation when Jess from the UC Davis School of Veterinary Medicine wrote to me, explaining, "We have several students who are 40+, and one who is over 60 (a former financial advisor).You're never too old to go to vet school."

Ding-dong, the big, bad myth was dead. But only then was I able to figure out the havoc it had wreaked. Yes, it'd kept me from going to vet school. But it'd also kept me stuck in the endlessly repeating cycle: "Want to go, too old to go, want to go, too old to go." Never at any time did I consider that I might not want to go anymore; I was too busy being denied (and mourning that denial). Once I understood that I could, in fact, go, I had to ask myself if I wanted to be a big-animal vet enough to uproot my kids and go back to college for prerequisites—and then, after a few years, apply to grad school. The answer was: no, thank you. That's the big joy of dispelling this particular untruth. You're freed to ask yourself, "What do I really want to do—now?" And leave the ambitions of the little girl who used to love James Herriot novels behind.

Next: The one thing it's definitely not okay to do...


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