You know that voice that tells you not to take a risk? The voice that stops you in your tracks when you’re trying to take the next step? It’s the kind of voice that says your creative ideas aren’t good enough or maybe you aren’t good enough either.

Do you know the voice I’m talking about?

Well, I don’t have that voice.

Maybe it comes from naively believing I could do anything I wanted when I was younger. Growing up in a small town allowed me to be involved in as many activities as I wanted. I was a top-ten state tennis finalist and a state champion improvisational actor. I was an Eagle Scout and Valedictorian. I starred in the school play and played saxophone in the jazz band. I did everything I wanted to the best of my ability.

Or maybe it’s because I know that the voice is just wasting my time. I see people succeeding in my field and know that they weren’t always that successful. They had to start somewhere, right? So instead of letting the voice tell me I don’t deserve to be there I just remind myself that I’m just not there yet.

The voice is in your head. It’s your thoughts and fears trying to convince you to give up on what you want to do. I refuse to let myself stand in the way of achieving my goals. I refuse to let the voice speak its mind.

I know what you’re thinking. (That’s my job.) You’re saying, “Come on. Everyone has to deal with the voice.”

Nope. Maybe everyone else. But not me. 

Don’t believe me? Ask my wife.

She’ll tell you that if I want to do something badly enough I pursue it relentlessly until I’ve succeeded. If something interests me then I chase it down and make it mine. I’m fully convinced that I can do anything I set my mind to because I don’t have the voice.

A few years ago we went skiing for our second anniversary. Being from Kansas, I’d never been skiing before but by the end of the trip I was convinced I could conquer any slope at the resort. I still am.

She had to talk me off the cliff: “Skiing gear is expensive. We live in the city - not near any ski resorts. You don’t have time to start driving each weekend just to take up a new hobby.”

She was right, of course. She always is. I don’t have the time for a new hobby and so I didn’t pursue skiing. But you might have noticed what my wife didn’t say. She didn’t tell me I couldn’t be a skier. She knows better than that.

Even if she had, I wouldn’t have believed her. No voice can convince me I can’t do what I want to do. Not even the voice. I shut it up a long time ago.