If there’s a word in all the English language that I absolutely hate, it’s the word “excuses.” When I hear that word, I cringe and wave my hands in the air and make inarticulate sounds of dismay — like “Uh ba ba ba!” — to ward off its evil mojo.

It’s not that I resent people making excuses, it’s that I simply don’t find the concept helpful. Excuses are like distracting little invisible sprites, who sit on my shoulders, somehow managing to pinch my ears with their insubstantial fingers in spite of the fact that my attempts to grab them meet with nothing but thin air. But if I say, “Pah! I don’t believe in you! I believe in Reasons,” they promptly coalesce into Reasons I can pick off to reach the rock solid Real Problems at the heart of it all.

Now, I hear you. If you’re anything like the other folks I’ve shared my crazy hatred of “excuses” with, you’re saying, “But how can you say that? People make excuses all the time. Why I make excuses and for goodness sake, you must too!” And to that I’ll reply, “Uh ba ba ba! I don’t use that word!”

I used to, of course. I’d have “excuses” for not exercising or finishing paperwork or cooking healthy meals or volunteering or going to parties. And I had a million excuses for never having written that novel I was always planning. But when I said I had “excuses,” what I really meant was that I thought I was just “weak willed” or “being lazy” or “not trying hard enough” to do what I “should” be doing.

And what’s the solution for not trying hard enough? Why work harder. Do better. Just do it. I simply had to force myself, through power of will, to do the dreaded deed and then the problem would be solved, right? But I found that, at best, that would work in the short term and fail in the long term, because it didn’t address the Real Problem, and at worst, it would fail immediately, because I still couldn’t muster the resources to get the task done. Either way it would leave me depressed and disheartened at my supposed “laziness,” when the truth was that I was working very hard at entirely the wrong thing.

A few years ago, I decided that just doing yoga, housework and walks around the neighborhood wasn’t enough; I ought to exercise more. But I found I was always “making excuses” for why I couldn’t do it: I didn’t have childcare, I couldn’t work it around the kids’ schedules, I was too busy with a home improvement project, I had guests visiting…

So, I worked harder. I signed up for other exercise classes in addition to yoga. I got a gym membership with childcare. I rearranged schedules. I canceled projects. I shared my exercise plans with visitors and told them I wouldn’t be able to spend as much time with them. And I went to the gym once. Maybe twice. I wasted hundreds of dollars on that gym membership I didn’t use. I hung onto it for months believing I was just lazy and sooner or later I’d work up the willpower to go. But once the first few “excuses” were removed, I made more and more. Invisible sprites kept popping up on my shoulders, multiplying and tauting me by the millions.

Then I started looking at the “excuses” as reasons instead, and things changed for me. Instead of saying, “I’m making excuses for not going to the gym, I should work harder,” and then beating myself up when I (inevitably) failed, I’d say, “The reason I’m not going to the gym is because I am watching Law and Order instead.” That led me to see I was making a choice: in this case, consciously prioritizing TV watching over trips to the gym. And yet, I never miss yoga. So I started to think about why I was making those choices and I realized three things:

1. There are certain types of exercise that fit better than others with my personality type and physical skills, so rather than trying to force myself to do things that aren’t a good fit, I should try to stick with and expand the things that are a good fit and that I do enjoy. (And believe me, it does sadden me that turning pages, typing and working a remote apparently don’t count as physical activity.)
2. Going to the gym makes me feel out of place, anxious and judged. I don’t even enjoy yoga at the gym, simply because it’s, well, at a gym. Rather than continue to try to ignore, stifle and deny these feelings, I should work on the social anxiety issues and need for the approval of others that makes the gym a stressful, triggering place to be. I wanted to be able to handle it, but had to admit I wasn’t ready yet.
3. I didn’t really want to get more exercise and was not in poor health, I just felt like I should do more. I still didn’t see exercise as something truly important, only as something I thought I should see as important. I had no internal motivation for exercising, only the external approval that would come from other people saying, “Good job! You’re going to the gym instead of wasting your time doing, um, whatever it is you do all day.”

Once my reasons had led me to the Real Problems, I saw it was time to stop kicking for myself for rearranging my bookshelves instead of playing a fierce game of racquetball. (Yes, not only have I never played racquetball in my life, I had to look up how to spell it). I canceled my gym membership. I signed up for another yoga class, and I started walking my daughter to school. I’m much happier, and I don’t get physically ill when I drive past the gym anymore.

I’ve found when I get upset with myself for making “excuses,” what I’m really upset about is my own imperfection, my own fallibility, my own humanness and my fear of judgment and rejection for not doing what I “should” be doing. Believing in the fairy tale of excuses helps me hide from that and keeps me from owning my choices, taking responsibility for my own behavior and working on real change. So, goodbye, Excuses. I’m so done with you that I’m banishing your name from my vocabulary forever. Go disrupt someone else’s recovery.