"I Can't" Means "Not Now"
People with disabilities are often misunderstood when they say "I can't." Here's what you need to know.
Neurodivergent people are often misunderstood, and even mistreated, when saying we can’t do something. The internet teems with stories about it. Bosses can treat us as an uncooperative, uninterested employee. Friends and family may dispute whether we really can’t. When we’re young, parents think we’re being oppositional.
Often, it might not seem worth it to say “I can’t” at all.
That’s unfortunate, because we say “I can’t” precisely because we want to learn. To do so, we need the listener to start where we are (and have realistic expectations).
Sometimes, neurodivergent people sound frustrated or guilty about the very fact we can’t do something, which can muddy the waters.
But even if we state it as a neutral fact, people can get extremely upset. I’ve often been surprised by others’ intense emotional reactions.
Some, like my mother when I was a child, think it means, “I will never be able to do x”.
(In other words: “I cannot learn to do x”).
Some bosses think it means, “I won’t try to do x” or “I won’t try to learn it”
Or, “I don’t want to do it, and so won’t do it.”
In general, these interpretations didn’t even occur to me.
Obviously (to me), “I can’t” simply means:
At this moment, it’s impossible for me to do this thing — no matter how much I want to do it, no matter how hard I try.
But can’t doesn’t mean unable to learn.
Can’t doesn’t mean will never be able.
Can’t doesn’t mean won’t.
Can’t doesn’t mean don’t want to, and willfully refuse.
“Can’t” almost always implies, “don’t know how.”
We Can’t Now, But We Can Learn
Ignorance right now implies nothing about the future.
Maybe I will learn the thing, if taught in a way I can understand… and if given a chance to learn.
In my experience, neurodivergent people rarely get the chance to learn the skills or information we’re expected to know.
People usually perform tasks around us without explicitly saying, or deliberately demonstrating to us, what they’re doing and why. They just do things nearby. Yet, most neurotypical people somehow learn to do the same, just by watching. When neurodivergent people watch something involving our areas of difficulty, we don’t absorb.
We need an explanation that we can understand.
(Teachers call this “explicit teaching.” Not surprisingly, research shows it helps dyslexic children learn phonics. Supported by educational research, I call it just “good teaching”).
Often, our parents or teachers have never even tried to provide explanations. They may never have known we needed it.
Even if aware we needed an explanation, they probably didn’t know how. Even neurodivergent people can struggle with that. When my brother was very young, he was learning what seemed like early, fundamental parts of having a conversation. My mother exclaimed, “How am I supposed to explain why? You just know.” To us, it sometimes felt like explaining how you know something is green. (We’ve gotten better at teaching since).
I can attest that even skilled practitioners and teachers of speech/language therapy (of all things) can struggle to explain what they’re doing — or even to understand what constitutes a helpful explanation.
In short, most neurodivergent people don’t get much of a chance to learn.
But, what if we did?
Further, what if we could practice, as young children do, free of consequences? Without negative feedback from others — or even ourselves?
Maybe then, we could do it.
We don’t know yet.
“Can’t” always means “right now.”
When I was a child, it never occurred to me that anyone would think I was talking about my abilities in the future. I certainly wasn’t. I knew I’d develop to be fundamentally different years from now. Why speculate on something so impossible to know?
Can’t May Come with Won’t, but it Doesn’t Have To
OK, I will admit: when you’re dealing with kids, there can be an element of will involved. As a child, I often did want to get out of doing things. I’ve been described as “fighting to the death” to avoid dreaded tasks, such as arithmetic problems or learning to tie my shoes.
However, I rebelled because I’d attempted to do such things, unsuccessfully, before. I believed if I tried, I would fail — and didn’t want to experience that pain again. I didn’t want to because I couldn’t. Most of all, I didn’t want to confront that I couldn’t.
(An aside: In my experience, avoiding confronting one’s difficulties can drive major life decisions for years. Ironically, that defense can make it harder to learn the lagging skills, putting one further behind).
HOWEVER, don’t assume that this psychology of refusal is necessarily involved, especially with adults. Often, it won’t be. And the assumption feels demeaning.
Motivation aside, the point is this:
When I tried to escape things I couldn’t do, I was avoiding attempting it right now.
Always, when someone says “I can’t,” add the implied words “not now.”
Why do People Misunderstand “Can’t”?
Why are neurodivergent people often misunderstood when saying “I can’t?”
I suspect that others unknowingly project their anxieties onto us.
A boss might worry about putting a lot of time and effort into training an employee, only for them to do shoddy work anyway.
A teacher might worry that she won’t find a way to teach the necessary skill by the end of the school year.
A parent might worry about the years ahead. Will their children be able to do the thing when they grow up? Will their children depend on them longer? In what way, and how much? How will the family manage?
Relax.
Take a deep breath.
None of that is real.
Besides, maybe we’ll learn the thing.
We don’t know yet how long it will take, or how hard we’ll have to try, or whether we’ll die before we become any good at it.
But none of that has happened. It might never happen.
Why borrow trouble?
Take all those years of possible painful futures off your shoulders.
Right now, we can’t do something.
Can you help?
What’s Your Story?
What happens when you say “I can’t” — or do you say it at all?
What kind of misunderstandings have you seen?
There’s a label (not a recognized diagnosis), “pathological demand avoidance” (PDA). It describes people who avoid/refuse to do things, putting themselves at odds with their parents, schools, workplaces, etc. I suspect that one reason they may avoid tasks is that they know they don’t know how/can’t, and fear negative feedback from others and themselves. What kind of relationships might there be between “can’t”, procrastination, and PDA?
And Now, for Something Slightly Different
These graphics sum up the highlights, so you can pin them to Pinterest, post them to your social media, share with your friends, etc.
I find this to be a truth as both a parent of an Adult child on the spectrum (who just completed his first triathlon) and a personal narrative designer of a person on the spectrum who is now launching Neuro Universal Language (NUL) as a game changing approach to bridge Neurodiverse people with Neurotypical people.
This happened to me just the other day. I said I didn't know how to do something, and someone started lecturing me, saying that I can learn. I was like... Yeah... That was what I was saying. That I need to learn. But she didn't let me explain that, so the conversation was cut off with her thinking I was being lazy. 🙃