Tell Me I Can’t—And I’ll Show You That I Can

I’ve learned that when people tell you, “You can’t do it,” what they’re really doing is giving you a front-row seat to your own power. And oh, I’ve had a lifetime of those invitations.

I became pregnant in my second year of university—determined, focused, and not about to let that become another unfinished degree. Not again. The first time around, I started strong. I had just finished high school at 17, entered remedial college, and then dove straight into university. But if you’ve studied in my home country, you already know the story—strikes, delays, waiting at home for months or even years.

So I worked during those long pauses. Small jobs. Anything to stay sane and not fall behind in life. But a four-year degree stretched endlessly, and eventually, the cracks began to show. Between structural bullying from professors and a spirit that no longer resonated with the course I was in, I walked away. I dropped out. That hurt. But I knew I wasn’t done. My path just needed rerouting.

So I started over. A new degree. A new vision. And then—boom. Pregnant.
I won’t lie. It was overwhelming.

Not because I didn’t want to be a mother, but because I had fought so hard not to repeat the cycle of a dropped dream.
And of course, the world always has something to say when you’re a woman choosing herself.

“She won’t finish.”
“She’ll give up again.”
“It’s too much.”
“Impossible.”

Well… I smiled. And I did it anyway.

Even when I had to travel between countries to make it happen. Even when money was tight and I had to juggle motherhood, marriage, and lectures. Even when people’s opinions grew louder than their support—I kept going.

Because when I say I’m going to do something, I don’t care how many storms I have to walk through—I do it.

I finished that degree. With swollen feet, early contractions, and an unwavering will.
And years later, it happened again.

Another degree. Another pregnancy. Another moment where life asked me, “Are you still sure?”
And again—I said yes.

This time, I was pursuing a European degree, a very expensive one, as a non-EU student. And when I tell you it cost me everything—I mean emotionally, mentally, financially. And still, I pushed.

In fact, when I went into labor with my second child, I had a paper due.
I delivered that baby, came home the next day, typed that paper out, submitted it—then checked myself back into the hospital with postpartum preeclampsia.

You can’t make this stuff up.

So no, I didn’t get all A’s.
No, I didn’t sleep.
No, I wasn’t glowing through pregnancy like the pictures you see online.
But I graduated.

With a degree in one hand and a newborn in the other.

And I’m proud. So proud. Not just because I crossed the finish line, but because I redefined what strength looks like for me. I showed my children what it means to be a woman who refuses to fold. I proved to myself—twice—that I can do hard things. And come out with a story worth telling.

So to anyone facing a mountain, to anyone hearing “You can’t” from the people around you—or worse, the voice inside—listen to me:

Let that become your fire. Let it become your why. Let it become the echo of your own resilience.

Because when you tell me I can’t, that’s when I get started.

🌺 This is your gentle reminder that the world has never been changed by people who waited for permission.

With heart,
Elizabeth Iember

📝 Reflective Prompt (for the Courageous)

What are they telling you you can’t do?
And what would happen if you did it anyway?