Don't argue for your limitations

It’s a colossal waste of time to argue for your limitations, to defend them, to insist on them, to parade them around as “proof” of what you can’t do.

But at some point, we all do it. We insist to someone that we can’t do something (because to us, that’s how it really feels). To argue for your limitations means you lay out an elaborate defense of having no capacity, no knowledge, no awareness, no time, no money, no babysitter. The focus becomes more on what you don’t have, than on what you do have. The emphasis situates itself on the limitation, rather than the possibility. More time and effort is given to arguing for your limitations, even getting angry at someone who suggests that something else might be possible, than to opportunities.

When you argue for your limitations, it’s common make up Stories that the deck is stacked against you, that so-and-so must have succeeded because they had an easier life, or that their pain must not feel as bad as your pain, which is why they’re so much more “able” to make a different choice.

But here’s the thing: the more time and energy given to the difficult circumstances, the less time and energy you have for trying to find your way through.

I don’t believe—never have believed—that people are lying when they argue for their limitations. I see and acknowledge that many people grow up in societies where the deck is stacked against them, or someone else with more privilege was able to advance faster, and some people do have more innate capacity for emotion regulation when they’re in pain. All of those things DO add up to them having an easier time.

But that’s still no reason to argue for, on behalf of, or in defense of, the limitations in one’s life.

Why We Do It

We defend on behalf of our limitations because we’re afraid, and being in the thick of fear can feel like a crazy-insane experience.

What’s the fear? The unknown. Letting go of an old self or a set of behaviors, and having nothing to replace them with. Fear that we don’t have the capacity to actually change anything, especially when the things that need changing are bigger than we are.

For example, when I first began working on patterns of anger and how I took that anger out on others, it was suggested that I was “in choice” around my anger and could actually control how angry I got.

Initially, this suggestion infuriated me. How dare he suggest that? My anger was my anger, it was an authentic and normal expression, he was tone policing me, he was gas lighting me, he was a privileged male conditioned to tell women to speak differently…

And yet, for some reason I kept looking at that and looking at that.

The anger didn’t feel good. The anger wasn’t doing good. The anger wasn’t helping me to change the things that I was angry at.

And then, the humbling realization that it was easier for me to be angry and use it as a sort of protection against change, than it was for me to accept that me, my life, the systems, all of it just is how it is, and that my effort was better spent trying to change the things I could and let the rest go.

When we stop “arguing for” our limitations, this massive, yawning space opens up. This space was filled with all the old behaviors and identities and the effort of arguing to keep them in place, insisting to anyone who dare suggest otherwise that they are the jerk for even suggesting a different path.

Initially, I didn’t know what in the world was going to fill that wide open space. Since anger had become a protective mechanism, it felt intensely vulnerable to imagine being upset by something and finding another way to react.

That’s the way it is when we’re stepping into some new space–it feels too wide open, out of control, terrifying.

Someone suggests that it’s possible for us to step out into that space, and we argue for our limitations, un-trusting of our capabilities to fly.

We argue for limitations because we’re in pain. I argued for my anger to give it legitimacy as a response to the things I didn’t like. Some people get annoyed with happy people because they reflect back to us our own lack of happiness (our pain). Others make up a Story that rich people are “bad,” because they’ve experienced pain around finances. Others insist they can’t do something because of how their brain works, ignoring the multitudes of others who have done XYZ, because it’s too tender to feel the frustration (again) of trying to do something and being challenged and possibly failing. 

Start With Curiosity

A common coaching exercise is to ask a client who is insisting on their limitations to simply brainstorm all of the possibilities before them–even those options that they know they wouldn’t choose.

The point? To acknowledge all the available choices, and remember that we have them even if we don’t love them.

You Ego/Inner Critic is going to think all of this is bullshit (in other words, it’s going to start arguing for the limitation of not seeing acknowledgment of choices as a worthy endeavor).

The Ego is going to say that all of this is cheesy and fluffy and too hearts and flowers and purple light (another way of arguing for limitations, and not trying something new–make it bad! make it cheesy! make it wrong!).

The Ego is going to say that this seems like an “awful lot of work” to go for (another way of arguing for limitations–it’s so much work!).

The Ego is going to say that maybe things “aren’t so bad the way they are,” and sure, sometimes you argue for limitations, but it’s not that big of a deal, is it? Nah. (Another way the Ego is arguing for limitations–why bother?).

The Ego will think of a way to over-intellectualize and be above it all, and then says, “I mean, I just think personal growth is a reflection of bourgeoisie ideals and it’s not rooted in actual science.” (Yup. More arguing for limitation–be condescending about it, find a theory that undermines it, insist that intellect trumps all. PS, speaking of science, have some fun looking up how many scientific studies can’t be replicated, and then ask yourself how solid the ground is that you’re standing on. I’m absolutely a believer in science and the scientific method, but I think we’ve gotta make some room for the stuff that doesn’t fit neatly into empirical categories).

And of course, as already mentioned? The Ego will jump in to point out how I “just don’t get it”–me, the person writing this, I must not “get” your life and what you struggle with, I must not have ever struggled as much or in the same ways, and therefore anything I share in this post must not be valid. (Yup, more arguing for limitations—because actually, you don’t know my full background, do you? This is one post, that could not possibly encapsulate my entire life experience or opinions on the subject).

Choice

It will come back, again and again, to what you choose. It’s your life, and they’re your limitations. You can decide if you want to keep them. What are you choosing to do with them? Do you want to argue for them and defend them? Or is there something else you want to decide?