"I Can't Do That"

There’s a scene in the film The Book of Eli that changed my life.

Eli, played by Denzel Washington, is walking across a barren, post-apocalyptic landscape, carrying the last known copy of the Bible in his tattered backpack. His sole focus is to deliver it to a secure archive on the island of Alcatraz.

A gang of outlaws emerges, their leader demanding the Bible:

Eli stands firm. Calmly, he replies,

Even when faced with death, he refuses to surrender.

Let me share two stories from my life where I had to make “I can’t do that” decisions.

While serving as a Navy helicopter pilot in the Mediterranean, I was temporarily stationed at an airfield in southern Cyprus. My squadron was tasked with supporting the US Embassy in Beirut. We flew back and forth from Cyprus to fulfill that mission.

We were land-based, and our crews were quartered in a modest hotel in Larnaca, a large city near the southern coast, a few minutes from the airport.

One evening, while eating dinner with my colleagues in a nice restaurant, an elderly man appeared at our table. He was well known for his alcoholism.

My commanding officer (CO), a heavy drinker and smoker himself, invited the man, whose name I have long forgotten, to join us.

Within seconds of his sitting down, my CO ordered him a drink. Minutes later, another. And then another.

For all I knew, this man was homeless. Feeding him drinks (he refused to eat) was flat-out abuse. It was wrong. Yet my CO continued.

As we finished our meal and paid our bill, my CO turned to me and another pilot and said,

Hearing this, the drunken man said,

MY CO asked us how much we each wanted to pitch in for the present.

So there I was, face to face with the man in whose hands my career rested, faced with a decision.

Do I fork over the money, or do I stand my ground?

I chose to say,

My CO just stared at me and grinned.

I never flew another mission on that particular deployment.

Did my decision require courage? Was it a monumental act of valor?

Yes, it took courage. No, it was not worthy of a medal.

I was just an ordinary man standing his ground.

Sometimes, courage has nothing to do with someone else. It’s all about you, as my next story illustrates.

Following a divorce in 2019, I turned to alcohol to numb the pain. The problem with overcoming alcohol dependence is that it works—at least for a short time.

Over time, I gradually increased my consumption to more than a bottle of wine a day. I rationalized my drinking by telling myself,

Without going into the emotional trauma I inflicted on myself, let me cut to the chase.

I stopped drinking alcohol on July 31, 2023. Completely.

Initially, I relied on an app called Reframe to support my sobriety. It was incredible, a literal Godsend. If you or someone you know needs support to stop drinking, I strongly encourage you to check out Reframe.

But Reframe wasn’t the only thing I relied upon.

The other psychological weapon I used was the “I can’t do that” response.

When I was alone, tired, angry, or sad, and tempted to drink, I told myself what Eli told that bandit.

In the 755 days since July 31, 2023, I have encountered hundreds of opportunities to drink. Alcohol is ubiquitous.

I have walked into airport lounges where I was greeted by well-dressed employees holding a platter of champagne glasses, filled to the brim.

“I can’t do that,” I say to myself as I politely refuse the offer.

So, where does courage enter into this particular story, you might ask.

It took courage for me to turn away from a substance that numbed my pain every time. In the same way that novacaine protected me from the pain of the dentist’s drill, alcohol protected me from experiencing shame, guilt, and heartbreak.

Abandoning something that has worked for a long time took courage.

Each of us will encounter times—big or small—when we’re asked to trade our integrity, our well-being, or our truth for comfort, approval, or belonging. And in those moments, courage doesn’t roar; it speaks quietly and steadily in four simple words,

When in your own life have you had to say, ‘I can’t do that’? I’d love to hear your story in the comments below.

If this piece spoke to you, consider sharing it with someone who might need the reminder that courage often begins with a quiet “I can’t do that.”