If I could change one thing about myself, I would say "yes" more often.
I'm the type of person who says "no" without thinking. Ask me anything and my first response will be negative. I verbally close the door before anyone can do more than poke a head tentatively around the corner. In fact, "no" doesn't just close the door on an idea or thought, it slams the door. Hard.
I've always admired people whose first instinct is to say yes. I had a boss in college who believed it was always easier to say "yes" than to say "no." For her, it was. For me, not at all.
I know I've missed out on a lot of opportunities because I never even consider them. I've missed out on a lot of fun, I'm sure. And yet I can't help myself. I am cautious, and so is "no." It sounds like "whoa," and it has that effect. It slows progress or stops it in its tracks (some trains barrel toward you no matter what signal lights you throw).
"No" protects against change, against danger. No is safe. Yes is more reckless. It's like saying, "Guess." Saying yes requires that I commit to something with or without information. And I like information.
I don't think it's coincidental that "no" and "know" are homonyms. The less I know, the more likely I am to say "no." The more I know, the more likely I am to say "yes."
Wanna drink? No.
Want a soda? Maybe.
Want a root beer? Yes!
But I'm learning to work with my limitations. Just after I hear myself say "no," I reconsider. Do I know enough to decide? Are there possibilities beyond "yes" and "no"? Do I want to change my mind?
I wasn't always such a naysayer. In fact, I think I became one because I said yes too much. As a child and then as a young woman, I felt bound by other people's expectations. No was not a part of my vocabulary.
This meant I found myself trying to get out of plans I never wanted to make and commitments I hoped never to honor. I remember wishing I would get sick just so I wouldn't have to babysit or go out with someone whose company I really didn't enjoy.
Once I realized that saying yes created more problems than it solved, I learned to help people find alternatives (like, "I have a friend who can babysit, do you want me to see if she's available?") Eventually, I learned how to just say no. And I've been saying it ever since. The problem is, somewhere along the way I forgot how to say yes.
And it's worrying me.
Because the yay-sayers are happier, I've noticed. Especially as they age. My mother said yes to everything: Travel to Paris without my husband or children? Sign me up! Go back to school and become the first college graduate in my family? Enroll me! Move to Florida to recover from a broken leg? Why not?
As her child, I paid the price for her enthusiasm. My life was constantly disrupted by her wishes and whims. But as an adult, I hear her say -- now that she's in her 70s -- how happy she is and how fulfilled. She lived a full life and did most everything she wanted (including plenty she shouldn't have). In contrast, I have other relatives who, like me, are more critical and judgmental, more tentative in spite of our best efforts to remain open-minded. As they age they become more frustrated. After a lifetime of shoulds, we want to say yes, but we don't know how or to what or even when.
And perhaps that's the key. Instead of being a naysayer or a yay-sayer, it's worth learning when to say yes and when to say how and when to say maybe and when to say, soon or another time or "not right now."
No keeps life at a distance, it protects us; yes engages and exposes us. "No" is afraid of the future. Yes is a way of saying, I'm not sure what will happen next but I'm willing to find out.
So, the question is: Am I brave?
Hell, yes.
A version of this LifeFiles column originally appeared on about 70 TV station websites managed by Internet Broadcasting Systems.
