We Can Do Hard Things: Answers to Life's 20 Questions

“The world gives us a menu about sexuality, gender, work, motherhood. There are specific reasons why we have limited options. It’s because the menu doesn’t serve the person ordering; it serves the order of things. Somebody made that menu, and it wasn’t us.”

Glennon Doyle’s metaphor reveals how societal expectations are deliberately constructed to maintain existing power structures rather than support individual authenticity. This insight supports the authors’ guidance to excavate one’s authentic self rather than adding more by encouraging readers to question whether their choices reflect genuine desires or imposed limitations. By recognizing that cultural “menus” are human-made constructs, individuals can begin to create their own options based on internal guidance rather than external expectations.

“Healing doesn’t happen by replacing our failed dogma with another dogma—by finding another religion, another diet, another discipline, another whatever. But there is a magical moment of possibility that arises if we allow our false certainty to be replaced with nothingness and do the impossible work of sitting there—clueless and surrendered—long enough.”

Glennon Doyle challenges the common tendency to seek healing through new systems or rules, advocating instead for the discomfort of uncertainty. Doyle suggests that true transformation requires releasing the need for immediate answers and sitting with not knowing. This connects to the book’s teaching to Use Discomfort as Your Internal Guidance System by reframing the anxiety of uncertainty as a necessary space for authentic wisdom to emerge.

“If you are noticing a tree, you know you’re not the tree. If you are noticing a thought, you know you’re not the thought. The noticer is your soul, your spirit, your consciousness. You can’t be the subject and the object at the same time.”

Glennon Doyle presents a fundamental principle of mindfulness that helps readers separate their identity from their thoughts and emotions. This distinction is crucial for the book’s guidance to practice radical self-compassion as a tool for growth because it allows individuals to observe negative self-talk without becoming consumed by it.

“As women, we are so programmed to play the supporting character—the wife, the mother. And we have to make the choice to have moments where we put on the supporting character hat, but we also have to cultivate the idea that we are the lead character in our story. It’s my life. I can choose to be supportive in the life that belongs to my children, because they deserve to be the lead characters in their lives, too. But there have to be times when I’m the lead character in my life. My husband is the lead character of his life, and I love that I get to be a supporting character in his story. Also, he should be a supporting character in mine.”

Actor Kerry Washington articulates the balance between service to others and honoring one’s own needs, which she argues is particularly relevant for women, who are culturally conditioned to prioritize others’ well-being. This insight supports the authors’ emphasis to Trust Your Body’s Wisdom Over External Validation by encouraging women to check in with their own needs and desires rather than automatically defaulting to caretaking roles. Practically, this might mean scheduling personal time without guilt or making decisions based on what feels authentic rather than what others expect.

“Projection is something we all can identify with. Let’s say there is something about myself that I really don’t like. Maybe I’m afraid of my aggression. So I look at Abby, and I project the feeling that I’m afraid of onto her. I say, ‘Abby’s such an aggressive person.’ I just need to get rid of this. I need to find a good target, and maybe Abby looks like a good target to me. I just take my aggression, and I put it on her. She becomes the aggressive person. That’s what we all do to some degree.”

Dr. Galit Atlas explains the psychological mechanism of projection, or unconsciously attributing one’s own disowned qualities to others. This supports the authors’ advice to use discomfort as an internal guidance system because strong reactions to others often signal aspects of ourselves that need attention. For example, when someone feels particularly irritated by another person’s “neediness,” they might explore whether they’re uncomfortable with their own unmet needs rather than simply judging the other person.

“I heard a wilderness guide on TV say that when you’re lost in the woods, the goal is to get found, and to get found you have to stay in the same place, but to survive while you’re waiting you have to wander out to find food. So he recommended finding a Touch Tree: a tree that’s so big and recognizable that you can go out and forage and then easily return to the same spot again and again. I don’t know how to stay found; I’m going to get lost every single day, maybe every hour. So I need Touch Trees. I need practices and truths, big and strong and rooted enough that whenever I return to them, I feel found.”

Glennon Doyle’s “Touch Tree” metaphor provides a practical framework for maintaining stability amid life’s inevitable confusion and stress. This concept supports the book’s call to Choose Faith and Connection Despite Life’s Uncertainty by offering concrete anchoring practices that help individuals return to their center when overwhelmed. Examples of Touch Trees might include daily meditation, core values statements, supportive relationships, or physical practices like walking in nature—reliable resources that consistently restore a sense of groundedness and clarity.

“Most people are lying when they say, ‘Oh yeah, this is who I am.’ It’s performance art. Actually, they go home in the halo of their phone scrolling, being like: Is this really what I want? Is this really who I am? So if you’re not sure of exactly who you are, you’re not alone. You’re just honest.”

Poet and comedian Alok normalizes the uncertainty many people feel about their identity while distinguishing between performative certainty and authentic exploration. This insight supports the authors’ guidance to excavate one’s authentic self rather than adding more by reframing self-doubt as honesty rather than inadequacy. Rather than pressuring themselves to have definitive answers about who they are, readers can focus on showing up authentically in each moment and trusting that clarity will emerge through experience rather than analysis.

“One of the things I tend to do when I’m trying to make a decision is I ask everybody their opinion. I do all the research that I can to become an expert on the question. But that’s having a monkey mind, where you go out into a tree filled with other monkeys and you ask all the other monkeys what those monkeys think you should do. That’s called taking a monkey survey. And it is the farthest thing from wisdom that you could possibly get. Instead of taking a monkey survey, give your brain permission to stand down and allow guidance from some other place. Even if it’s just for five minutes, allow something else to speak. Your body knows what’s true.”

Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love, illustrates how seeking external validation can actually distance us from wisdom. This insight directly supports the book’s teaching to trust the body’s wisdom over external validation by encouraging readers to quiet mental chatter and tune in to physical sensations. Practically, this might mean taking a walk alone before making a decision or simply sitting quietly with options and noticing which one creates expansion versus constriction in the body.

“The true knowledge of what to do next is not in the brain, but it’s in all the senses. It’s in every single bit of you once the clamor of consensus is gone. Don’t live by coming to consensus. Live by coming to your senses.”

Life coach and sociologist Martha Beck, author of The Way of Integrity, emphasizes the difference between decision-making based on external approval versus internal wisdom. This quote reinforces the authors’ advice to trust the body’s wisdom over external validation by suggesting that authentic guidance emerges when a person stops seeking agreement from others and starts paying attention to their complete sensory experience. This might involve noticing how different options affect breathing, energy levels, or overall sense of aliveness rather than focusing solely on logical analysis or social acceptability.

“A lot of people don’t do this work because they’re like ‘It’s so hard.’ Of course it’s hard. It’s tiring. Sometimes it’s expensive. It’s lonely. It can be frightening. It’s all of those things. But it’s like that anyway. You are lonely and frightened and fearful and exhausted right now, believing you’re not enough. So if you’re going to be that anyway, if you’re going to do that anyway, fall forward toward your liberation.”

Sonya Renee Taylor reframes the difficulty of personal growth work by pointing out that avoiding change doesn’t eliminate suffering; it simply maintains current pain while preventing growth. This insight supports the authors’ approach to use discomfort as an internal guidance system by encouraging readers to choose productive discomfort over stagnant suffering.

“I think control and love are opposites. Because love requires trust. We only control things or people we don’t trust fully. We can love people or control them, but we cannot do both. So I am practicing loving Abby instead of controlling her, loving my children instead of controlling them, loving my body instead of controlling it, loving my life instead of controlling my life, loving myself instead of controlling myself.”

Glennon Doyle presents a fundamental insight into the incompatibility of love and control, suggesting that trust is essential for authentic connection. This concept supports the authors’ teaching to Embrace Conflict as a Pathway to Deeper Connection because it requires releasing the need to manage others’ responses and instead showing up authentically. Practically, this might mean allowing a partner to make their own mistakes rather than constantly offering unsolicited advice. Likewise, it could involve accepting a child’s emotional responses without immediately trying to fix their feelings.

“I refuse to spend the end of my life—no matter how much time it is, whether it’s two months or twenty years—not loving my life, and that doesn’t mean not feeling. My therapist taught me years ago that you can’t shut yourself off to grief without also shutting yourself off to joy. You have to think of it like a kink in the hose: If you stop the flow of sadness, you stop the flow of happiness at the same time. So I’m crying about twice an hour. Then I’m bursting into laughter.”

Poet and activist Andrea Gibson argues that numbing difficult feelings also diminishes one’s capacity for joy. This insight supports the book’s guidance to choose faith and connection despite life’s uncertainty by encouraging readers to feel everything fully rather than selectively avoiding pain. Gibson’s example of alternating between tears and laughter demonstrates how embracing the full spectrum of emotions can lead to more vibrant living than attempting to maintain constant positivity.

“It is suggested to us a million times a day that our bodies are projects. They aren’t. Our lives are, our spirituality is, our love is, our relationships are, our work is. Stop spending all day obsessing, cursing, perfecting your body like it’s all you’ve got to offer the world. Your body is not your art; it’s your paintbrush. Whether your paintbrush is a tall paintbrush or a thin paintbrush or a stocky paintbrush or a scratched-up paintbrush is completely irrelevant.”

Glennon Doyle reframes the individual’s relationship with their body from something to perfect to something to use for creative living. This perspective supports the authors’ teaching to excavate one’s authentic self rather than adding more by redirecting energy toward meaningful pursuits. Readers might ask what they want to create or contribute to the world using their body as a tool for service, expression, or connection.

“If we want to be liked, we have to like. That’s it. Nobody leaves a party saying ‘My favorite person was that cool, aloof one.’ It’s the person who approaches and shows interest in us. I really, really think the secret to being loved is to love. And the secret to being interesting is to be interested. And the secret to having a friend is being a friend.”

Glennon Doyle presents a simple but profound principle about reciprocity in relationships, emphasizing that connection comes from giving what one wants to receive. This underscores the key takeaway of choosing faith and connection despite life’s uncertainties; it also provides practical guidance for those who struggle with loneliness or social anxiety by suggesting that one focus on contribution rather than reception. Instead of worrying about whether others will like them, readers can focus on genuinely showing interest in others’ stories, which naturally creates the warmth and connection they’re seeking.

“When talking about how to share difficult emotions with your partner, I like to use this very ridiculous metaphor of the sleepy hedgehog. When you have a difficult feeling, imagine that it’s like a sleepy hedgehog that’s just sitting in the bed and you’ve got to do something about it before you can sleep. So what do you do? You can’t yell at it. You can’t just throw it against a wall. Somebody’s going to get hurt if you do that. So what you do is, you gently turn toward it, you find out its name. Its name in this case might be Loneliness. It might be Insecurity. It might be Distrust. And then you ask: What does it need in order to move out of your bed and free itself?”

Emily Nagoski’s hedgehog metaphor provides a gentle framework for addressing difficult emotions in relationships without causing harm. This approach supports the authors’ emphasis on embracing conflict as a pathway to deeper connection by modeling curiosity and care when challenging feelings arise. For example, instead of saying, “You never listen to me,” a partner might say, “I’m noticing I feel lonely when we’re watching TV together—I think I need some focused conversation time.”

“Sex is not just something you do, it’s a place you go, within yourself and with another. You can have sex and feel absolutely nothing. Women have been doing it for centuries.”

Psychotherapist Esther Perel distinguishes between physical sexual activity and the deeper experience of sexual connection, highlighting how presence and engagement matter more than performance. This insight challenges cultural narratives that reduce sexuality to technique or frequency by emphasizing internal experience and mutual connection; it thus reinforces the overarching message to excavate one’s authentic self rather than adding more. Rather than focusing on external measures of sexual success, partners might explore what helps them feel most present, curious, and connected during intimate moments.

“When I came out as gay, there was so much fear from my family. It scared me. Now, being a parent, I understand that my mother was not afraid of me, she was afraid for me. But her fear of the world rejecting me caused her to bring that rejection energy to me first. We’re afraid of how the world will receive our kids. But we forget that we are the world to our kids.”

Abby Wambach’s insight reveals how parental fear intended to protect children can inadvertently become the source of rejection they’re trying to prevent. This awareness supports the authors’ recommendation that readers practice radical self-compassion as a tool for growth by helping parents recognize their own anxiety without projecting it onto their children. Instead of preparing a child for potential discrimination by withholding acceptance, parents can provide the unconditional love that builds resilience for whatever challenges the child may face.

“Seek and you shall find. When we seek beauty or joy or gratitude—that’s what we find. That is why being an artist is life changing—not because of what the artist creates in her studio but because of the way she sees and experiences the world outside of her studio.”

Glennon Doyle explains how intentional attention shapes experience, suggesting that actively looking for positive elements increases their presence in daily life. This principle supports the authors’ guidance to choose faith and connection despite life’s uncertainty by providing a concrete practice for cultivating meaning even during difficult circumstances. Noticing moments of beauty, kindness, or connection each day doesn’t eliminate challenges but creates space for joy alongside suffering.

“Isn’t it interesting that anger is what tells us what we need and that anger is so systematically shamed out of women? If women start listening to anger as a signal pointing us toward what we need, and then we start demanding it and taking it, our culture would be rearranged. That’s why they teach us to be so afraid of our anger, because it’s the ultimate change agent.”

Glennon Doyle connects the social conditioning against women’s anger to its potential as a force for necessary change, both personally and culturally. This insight strongly supports the book’s teaching to use discomfort as an internal guidance system by reframing anger as valuable information about unmet needs rather than a character flaw. For instance, when a woman feels angry about doing all the household planning while her partner remains oblivious, that anger might be signaling a need for more equitable distribution of mental labor.

“Forgiveness is between me and me. When I forgive, it’s not to set the other person free; it’s to set myself free. Forgiveness is not accepting what they did; it’s accepting that they did it. They are responsible for what they did, but I am responsible for the power I give them because of what they did. Instead of saying, ‘They did this terrible thing to me, so now my life is this way’—which cedes control to them over the course of my life—I can decide to take back responsibility for my life and my future. I can say, ‘Yes, this happened. And I will decide what happens next.’”

Amanda Doyle frames forgiveness as a form of personal liberation. This definition supports the authors’ approach to practicing radical self-compassion as a tool for growth by freeing individuals from the burden of carrying resentment while helping them maintain appropriate boundaries.

“When I try to change my behaviors without simultaneously investigating the beliefs beneath them, my life becomes all about willpower and discipline because my actions are at war with my beliefs. Being in a civil war with myself never lasts. White-knuckling is always short-lived because I can only act against my programming for so long. The goal is to get out of the war and back into alignment—which is peace.”

Glennon Doyle explains why behavior change often fails when it doesn’t address underlying beliefs, emphasizing the exhaustion of fighting against internal programming. This insight supports the authors’ guidance to excavate one’s authentic self rather than adding more by suggesting that sustainable change requires understanding and shifting the beliefs that drive unwanted behaviors. For example, someone trying to stop people-pleasing might examine beliefs about self-worth and rejection rather than just forcing themselves to say “no” more often.

“One of my teachers, Richard Strozzi-Heckler, says, ‘A relaxed body is the most powerful body that we have.’ I know it feels counterintuitive, because there’s so much to fear and so much that we are facing. But being relaxed doesn’t mean I’m not afraid. It means I have a place in me and I have a practice that I do that gives room for that fear. It allows me to recognize what else is inside me, what else I’m made of, what else I long for. And that’s what compels me forward. That’s what causes me to move.”

Therapist and activist Prentis Hemphill redefines relaxation not as the absence of fear but as creating internal space that accommodates fear while accessing other resources. This perspective supports the book’s teaching to trust the body’s wisdom over external validation by emphasizing how physical tension can limit both awareness and action. For instance, when facing a difficult conversation, someone might practice breathing deeply to create space for both anxiety and courage, allowing clearer access to their authentic truth.

“When I’m doing something that’s unpleasant, I do a body scan. For example, if I’m running I’ll ask: Okay, what does my toe feel like? I’ll scan each part of my body, and just that simple shift of awareness away from whatever part of my body is really hurting stops the hurt. It’s like a magic trick.”

Soccer player Christen Press demonstrates how redirecting attention can transform physical experience, offering a practical tool for managing discomfort. This technique supports the authors’ emphasis on trusting the body’s wisdom over external validation by developing the skill of conscious attention to bodily sensations. Beyond physical exercise, this practice might help someone sit with emotional discomfort during a difficult conversation by noticing their feet on the ground or their breath, which can provide stability and prevent them from becoming overwhelmed.