If you want to see me soar, tell me I can’t do something.

I was told I couldn’t write my research paper on my grandpa because I didn’t have enough sources to cite. In other words, he wasn’t a well-known figure.

I was accused of plagiarism when submitting an essay for my school’s yearbook because “it was written too well” to be mine.

I was told I couldn’t graduate one year early from high school because it’s too hard and I wouldn’t be able to maintain my GPA.

I was told I had to have four math credits, or my college wouldn’t accept my application; and I was reminded, “It doesn’t matter that you want to be a writer — you must have four math credits.”

I needed at least a C in Advanced Grammar & Composition to move forward with my writing degree, or I’d have to retake it and stay behind as my peers moved forward. I was told it was the second hardest class at my college and that several students wind up retaking it.

I was told I couldn’t work in the jail because it’s too unsafe for a woman.

I was told, “Is the cart so far in front of the horse that it can’t see the road?” when I was planning decor ideas for the house I didn’t own yet.

Ya know, a lot of people have been wrong about me for as long as I can remember. And I’m so glad. I mean that. If you ever want to see me soar, tell me I can’t do something. My adrenaline comes from proving people wrong.

In this weird, messed-up way, I almost wish for people to tell me, “You can’t do that.” I want to hear those decadent words, because they challenge me. They fuel me.

When someone tells me I can’t do something, I will stop at nothing to prove them wrong.

I wrote that research paper. I needed at least three sources to cite. I had five. My paper was called “The Life of Grady Willis Glazner: The Value of Victory.” Yes, I got an A.

My principal reviewed my essay and confirmed I wasn’t plagiarizing. The yearbook assistant was reprimanded and had to apologize.

I did graduate a year early at age 17. With a 4.0 GPA. I was valedictorian.

My college did accept my application, with three math credits. Because, you see, with a little research, I learned that I needed only three math credits to graduate in Oklahoma. And when I did math in college? Yeah. One semester of business math for this writer.

I got that C in Advanced Grammar. And I have never, to this day, worked harder for anything else in terms of education. If you don’t believe me, I’ll introduce you to my professor, Mrs. Vinaja, whom I visited three times a week that semester to go over my failed quizzes so I could get better.

Prior to COVID, I have been a volunteer chaplain for the Oklahoma Jail and Prison Ministries for two years. It’s never safe being knee to knee with murderers, drug abusers, and human traffickers. But it’s never something I regret.

I bought my first home at age 26 as a self-employed individual. I furnished it with everything I wanted.

I’m going to assume people have decided early on that you won’t succeed at something. They’ve told you to your face. Sometimes passively, sometimes aggressively.

To me, the passive comments are way more hurtful:

Do you really have time to write, though, being a mom and all?

Is that kind of career change going to keep you afloat?

How will this “little adventure” be different from last time?

I thought you did NaNoWriMo last year but didn’t win?

How, exactly, are you going to afford to self-publish?

People who stomp on your dreams, no matter their relation to you, need love.

Yeah, I said that differently than you thought, eh? Well, think about it. When someone doesn’t cheer you on but instead weighs you down, it’s because they haven’t realized their own dreams yet and can’t comprehend how you’re able to do so. It’s a form of jealousy disguised as pessimism.

When you’re met with this kind of negativity, I recommend saying, “You know, this book is my dream and I’m going to write it. I know it’s going to be hard, but with the right support, I can make it happen. Is there anything you’ve ever wanted to do that I can support you with? Maybe we could be accountable to each other.”

Chances are, they just needed someone to tell them “I support your dream” because they’ve never heard those words before. They could have a change of heart right before your eyes just because you asked about their goals. Just because you cared.

If you’re still met with opposition, I recommend nodding, smiling, and saying, “Okay. I guess we’ll see.” Then you prove them wrong.

After all these years, there is nothing that compares to the feeling of, “I told you I could do it. Because I knew all along I could.”

And here’s the thing: I’ve never had to utter those words. They are out in the ether all on their own the moment I achieve a goal someone said I’d fail at.

Please, please, please keep underestimating me. It is my drug. I crave it. And I won’t pretend like that’s not a . . . peculiar way to feel. But it’s my truth. I sometimes wonder where I’d be if people in my life didn’t challenge me, didn’t look me dead in the eye and say, “You can’t.” I’m thankful for those moments, even if they first hurt me as a teenager and a young adult.

Now they propel me to succeed. To take risks. To absolutely blow the world away.

An expert editor, best-selling author, and book marketer, Shayla Raquel works one-on-one with authors and business owners every day. A lifelong lover of books, she has edited over 400 books and has launched several Amazon best sellers for her clients.

Her award-winning blog teaches new and established authors how to write, publish, and market their books.

She is the author of the Pre-Publishing Checklist, “The Rotting” (in Shivers in the Night), The Suicide Tree, and The 10 Commandments of Author Branding. In her not-so-free time, she acts as organizer for the Yukon Writers’ Society, volunteers at the Oklahoma County Jail, and obsesses over squirrels. She lives in Oklahoma with her dogs, Chanel, Wednesday, and Baker.