My cat is one of the loves of my life.
I love very few things more than I love her. My child, obviously. And possibly bread. But other than that…🤷♀️
Ember has a specific voice (voiced by me). Her catchphrases include:
“Mom said I could!”
“It’s the science.”
and, frequently,
“I don’t want to.”
It once occurred to me that voicing my cat was possibly a mechanism my brain was using to get some of my subconscious stuff out into the open.
Once I landed on that little hypothesis, I started paying attention to the things my cat was saying.
And my God, “I don’t want to” comes out of her mouth a lot.
I think I have a lot of “I don’t want to” energy stored up in my psyche that I’ve never really gotten to let out.
Which got me thinking…when is “I don’t want to” a good enough reason to say no to something?
I don’t want to travel for the holidays.
A few weeks ago, I got an invitation to travel for the holidays. The invitation was well-intentioned.
But here’s the thing about the holidays. I’ve created this nice little tradition where I hunker down for Thanksgiving. Sometimes I get to host visitors. But I never go anywhere. I’m in Vermont, and it’s cold and snowy and dark and beginning to get winter-wonderland-y. I don’t have to go through an airport or on a highway to reach my Thanksgiving meal…ever. I love staying put.
And for Christmas, my kiddo goes to her Dad’s and they travel to see family. So I get to spend it alone.
(Don’t tell anyone, but Christmas alone is fucking glorious.)
I cook luxurious meals for one, like lobster bisque with homemade sourdough bread or a biryani. I watch Die Hard and Mannequin. I go for a Christmas Day walk. I open presents from my bestie. I usually make plans with friends in the surrounding days so I don’t feel lonely, and honestly, it’s the best, most restful version of what I believe holidays should be. Then my kid comes home and we dress up and have a New Year’s Eve party for two and MY GOD DO I LOVE MY HOLIDAYS!
So when I got the invitation to travel for the holidays, the first thing that came to mind was “I DON’T WANT TO!!!!”
But a part of me—the people-pleasing part—felt like somehow, that wasn’t a good enough reason to say no.
I’ve been thinking about this whole thing a lot lately. About when and whether “I don’t want to” is valid reason to bow out.
The strong, feminist, self-sovereign part of myself says “‘I don’t want to’ is always a valid reason to say no.”
The people-pleasing overachiever part of me says “But you’ll hurt someone’s feelings/won’t have XYZ experience/miss out on a chance to be productive if you don’t do the thing.”
And alongside this tension, there’s also the little voice inside, the voice of the kiddo who didn’t feel like she had a lot of chances early on to really listen and tune into her own wants and desires. That little kiddo knew her job was to achieve and perform and do the right thing and not cause trouble and make her family proud. And that little voice, quiet and hidden for so long, is coming out right now as an obstinate cat and declaring annoyingly when she doesn’t want to do something, even if she’s “supposed to.”
I’m trying to listen to her more…because if she’s coming out disguised as a cat, she’s really desperate to be heard, I imagine.
Sometimes I don’t want to keep dancing.
Today I was telling a client about how I like to go contra dancing, which is held on Saturday night from 8:00-11:00.
I deeply love this pastime, but 11:00 pm is way past my bedtime.
There’s an intermission during the dance, and for the longest time, I felt like I really should hang out for the whole dance, even after intermission.
But lately…I’ve been deciding not to stay for the second half. Because I don’t want to.
By half-time, I’ve had my fun, feel nice and alive and socialized and a little sore in the legs, and I’m looking forward to a hot shower and a nightcap and a good crash in my bed.
“I don’t want to” is a totally valid reason to head home from the dancing whenever I want.
Sometimes I don’t want to hike a terrible mountain.
At my old school, we had a tradition called Mountain Day. Every class hiked a different mountain, and it was a glorious autumnal bonding event.
During Covid, we couldn’t do our traditional mountain day, so we encouraged kids to hike their class’s mountain if they wanted to and put a pin in the poster we hung up at school. It was a sort of “socially distanced, challenge by choice” mountain day.
Always up for a challenge, I decided to hike all six mountains that fall.
One Saturday, I got up, destined for Mt. Ascutney. I hopped in the shower, and started thinking about my morning. My breakfast and coffee were made, my bag was packed, and I envisioned driving down to the trailhead and starting my trek.
And then I remembered that I actually hate this mountain.
It’s an unrelenting upward trail.
It’s boring.
There’s no real view at the top.
It pretty much sucks.
And as the hot water washed over me, I thought, “You know…I’m a grown-up. I could just not go.”
“But I really should,” I told myself.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because you made a plan.”
“Who cares? A plan with who?”
“With yourself.”
“So I can also cancel a plan with myself, right?”
“Well…I guess so? But why wouldn’t you go?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
I didn’t go. I napped.
Practicing the “I don’t want to".
“I don’t want to” still feels like a lame reason to say no to something. But I think that practicing listening to that voice is important for me to be able to more naturally tap into my wants and needs. It still feels hard. And sometimes, it really ISN’T a good enough reason.
Sometimes I don’t want to make dinner and feed myself and my kid. But I do, obviously.
Sometimes I don’t want to go out of my house, but I DO want to see the friend I’ve made dinner plans with. So I go.
But when there isn’t a good counterpoint, only some vague feeling of should, I’m starting to allow “I don’t want to” to guide more of my choices.
What about you?
What things do you skip because you just “don’t want to”?
(And more importantly…does your cat also have it’s own voice and personality? It’s not just me, right?)
I love this so much, I shared it with my 25 year old daughter. Thank you for sharing!