Yes, you can.

Even it's hard.

Alana Kirk

Apr 30, 2025

Spritz…. yes I can survive the puppy training.

Yes you can!

Whatever it is, chances are, you can.

It might take work.

It might take time.

It might take a small shift or a seismic shake up.

But you can.

It will definitely feel uncomfortable but do you know what’s more uncomfortable? Staying the same. Staying stuck. Staying lost in confusion or fear of not being sure what’s possible, what’s next. What’s really uncomfortable is wondering what if?

It’s amazing what you can do, isn’t it?

Often you find out what you can do when you try really hard and surprise yourself. When my pal bought me registration for the Dublin marathon for my 44th birthday (I’d have preferred a MAC lipstick) I definitely said “I can’t”. But with a training schedule and group coaching programme I began to explore if maybe I could. In fact, there were times during the actual marathon - even in the last mile - when my mind was saying “I can’t” but my legs screamed “I haven’t come this far to quit so yes you fucking can!” I lurched over that Finish line akin to a Whitewalker from Game of Thrones but I had turned a definitely can’t into a just about can and it changed me forever.

However, often you find out what you can do when you are pushed beyond your limits by circumstances not of your making; disappointment, grief, loss, divorce, career dead ends.

I remember holding my mum’s hand wondering how I would carry on. I was holding the only part of her she could still move, the rest of her body, a motionless dead weight, paralysed and powerless after her stroke. Just four days before that stroke took her life but she kept on living, she had held my newborn baby Ruby in her arms, singing a gentle lullaby as she had done to me and then each of my children. She had used her body to love, always affectionate and tactile, always present in her attention and now her body was an immobile tomb. She would never again say my name in those next five and half years, but she knew she loved me, and her face showed it when I came into the room and that’s all I could cling on to as we changed her nappies and spoon fed her and tried to make her existence not wholly awful for her.

Nothing prepared me for those five and half years; and I know for a fact, if I’d been told on that first night when I held her hand wondering where my lovely mum had gone, she’d need our 24 hour care for the next five and a half years I would have said “I can’t.” But, somehow, I did.

If someone had told me that along with my dad and brother, we would advocate for her death, to give her a death she deserved, I would have said “I can’t.” But I did, and she died in my arms, and it is one of the greatest gifts of my life.

If someone had said to me after my husband left, leaving me to mostly raise his kids while he carried on his career and get remarried, that I would go back to college and retrain and set up my own business, I would have laughed and said “I absolutely can’t.” But I did.

If someone just eight years ago had told me I’d be plunging my body into cold seas and lakes I would have SCREAMED “I CAN’T!!!!” But I do (and still scream).

And just three nights ago, when our new seven week puppy arrived and I was up all night as she howled, and I staggered through the next two days of no sleep saying “I can’t” I know that I can, because as I write this and she is literally suctioned to me - I can’t even go to the loo - I know that I can do hard things, I can do really fucking uncomfortable things, I can do amazing things, and I can do things I think I can’t. And one day she’ll be bounding alongside me and alongside my life and I will have done what I thought I can’t.

I’m not special. I’m a woman. One of the greatest gifts of being a coach is seeing just how much women can. Even when they don’t think they can.

In my current group coaching programme, some of the participants are trying those words “I can” on for size, and it’s wonderful to watch. It’s not easy. We’ve just done an exercise on self-limiting beliefs and they are seeing how it is possible to turn a can’t to a can. It might take work, and time, and discomfort, and courage, but it’s possible. So much more is possible when you don’t start with “I can’t”.

We have so much mind fuckery to wade through - too old, not good enough, too late, too selfish, too much, too whatever is the bullshit social narrative du jour, but wade we must. Wade through it and see what’s on the other side.

In recent weeks I’ve had clients make some really important decisions… and all because they were able to shift their mindset to “I can”. It might involve also admitting “I might not like it”, “I might find it hard”, “I’m scared” but that’s ok. If it was easy, you wouldn’t be saying “I can’t”.

Maria* is 59 and has just made the incredibly difficult decision to end her marriage - not because she wants to, but because she has to. There is a long and rocky road ahead of her. There were so many times during my divorce I thought “I can’t do this anymore” and yet I did because there was peace of mind at the end of it.

Joan* has just decided to change her job at 62. It’ll involve some extra training and a lot of research and knocking on doors to get enough freelance work but she knows the lifestyle it will give her to travel and ease off the corporate pedal is what she wants.

Amy* at 39 is facing into reviewing her whole life, a terrifying but necessary shift given some of her original dreams of having a family are less likely to come true now. She’s learning to turn one “I probably won’t” into what are the possibilities of “I can.” It’s not without grief, but she is exploring how to find peace in what “cans” are possible.

Just because it feels hard, just because you might get pushback, just because it’s going to take effort, doesn’t mean your deep desire for a different way is wrong.

In this last week I’ve had two startling thoughts: one slightly horrifying and the other inspiring, And both were to do with me turning 70.

I’ve just recently turned 55 which in itself was rather shocking given I only turned 50 five minutes ago, and even that had crept up faster than my teenagers can empty the “weekend” treat drawer by Tuesday.

So time is spinning away and it really does focus the mind. When I think about all the things I want to do, I can feel the beginnings of a lurch in my stomach. I’m finding “I can’t” is being slowly replaced by “will I be able to?”

And that makes me less inclined to indulge my “I can’t” phase for too long. I don’t have the luxury of languishing in self-doubt and apathy.

So my two startling thoughts about being 70 started with Spritz, this gangly girl that is currently nestled into my back as I perch on the end of the seat because she has severe separation anxiety. I went to the dog rescue to get an adult dog, not wanting the commitment of a puppy, but because of my cats, and the cuteness and my pleading child, I somehow ended up with a HUGE responsibility which I need like a hole in the head. And in one moment of despair I suddenly thought - “What have I done? I’m going to have this dog until I’m 70!”

Seven-ty! Now for those of you who have been reading me for a while, you know I intend to go fully Eat Pray Love in my 60’s so this was rather a shock. Also, like, 70!

The second 70’s thought was when I was running with my 14 year old daughter. She’s too fast and energetic for me so I told her that when I started running with my dad when I was a teenager, he would tell me “Start slow and steady”. I laughed and said how someday she may be an adult running with her child, and repeating the same advice, “slow and steady.” And I threw in a thoughtless comment that I’ll be watching from the sidelines and smiling how life continues in circles: my dad running with me, me running with her, and her running with hers. And quick as a flash she retorted: “No mum, you’ll still be running with me AND my child.” I was about to hear the “I can’t” in my head when I remembered that until my dad was diagnosed with lung cancer last year, he was still running. I last ran with my dad when he was 86 years old, so actually, damn right I can. I have lived, loved, lost and laughed enough to say I can to whatever the fuck I want.

What’s possible for women is being defined on every level. Every age and stage is being re-written and explored. It starts with believing that you can, and then exploring the possible. Because guess what? There is no exploration in “I can’t”.

So tell me, what would you like to say “I can” to? Or what are you current'ly saying “I can’t” to that maybe needs a rethink?

Let me know in the comments below. As always, for my paid subscribers, just email me and I’ll send you a little exercise to help with the “I can’t”s! alana@alanakirk.com

Yes, you can.

Even it's hard.

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