I used to hate that term…I can’t even. It doesn’t even make sense, at least…not really. Not until you stop and think about it. Then it makes perfect sense. It’s just a trendy way of saying: “I cannot handle this right now. My ability to handle this is gone. Brain does not compute.”
It’s for the days when everything in life just seems to kick you straight in the teeth, rattling your mind and your ability to function. It’s for those situations that come out of nowhere and leave you blinking, at a total loss for how to respond.
Sometimes, your ability to even is affected by the most minuscule things. That guy that cut in front of you in the Tim Hortons drive through, or maybe the fact that your dishwasher is busted – again (seriously, how many times is that blasted thing going to break?).
I think a lot of us understand “not being able to even“, and I’m pretty sure anyone who claims otherwise is lying, or maybe they’re a unicorn or some other kind of mythical creature. Or both.
The other day, I had a particularly bad case of the I can’t evens. It seemed like nothing prompted this sense of can’t even either, just a random pile up of mundane things and not-too-terrible life situations that had me tossing my hands up in defeat.
So, I walked away. I took a break. I didn’t think about the things that made my ability to “even” waver. A good rant with a good friend and a bottle of wine and I found my ability to “even” again.
But I strongly believe that you need to have days where you can’t even, because it’s basically like a mini vacation from the bullshit and a perfect excuse to consume that bottle of wine without [much] judgment. Then you can go back to “killing” it. Or, you know, being able to even (which means handle my shit, for those of you who are still confused about what “even” even means).