(Please let me find more f*cks tomorrow!)
Lately the number of f*cks any of us are left with on a particular day has become a joke.
This levity is often expressed along the lines of:
I’d get all worked up about not being picked for _____ but I have no more f*cks left to give.
At first glance it seems just another foul-mouthed attempt to be funny, but if you consider the meaning behind the f-bombs it actually makes sense.
I’d get all worked up about not being picked for ___ but I’m too old for that and highly aware in the end it’s not important.
In a twisted, profanity-laden way, it’s also the same advice we give children and guidance many of us received as kids:
The key to success in life is not spending time worrying about what others think.
If you’re her mother, the key to life-success arrives when you realize none of it was ever about you.
How people treat you is only a reflection of how they feel about themselves (thank you Paul Coelho).
Not giving a f*ck isn’t about being contrarian it’s about being comfortable flying your freak flag.
not caring (AKA giving a f*ck) about the unimportant stuff and hoarding f*cks for things you’re passionate about.
(I always have f*cks to give these two!)
Not giving a f*ck is the realization proffering f*cks for something or someone who wouldn’t give you a f*ck in return is a waste of time and energy.
Not giving a f*ck is acknowledging if we give a f*ck about everything (from being snubbed by a neighbor to not getting a freelance gig we didn’t r-e-a-l-l-y want) then it’s an indication we give not a true, deep, real f*ck about anything.
There exists a finite number of f*cks we each have to give.
As we age this finite number realization hits and, if you’re like I am, the finite-f*ks are a gift.
Life is enough as it is. I’m enough as I am.
I’ve too few f*cks left in my possession to yank ’em out for anything other than the important.
5 things I’m too damn old to give any f*cks about:
#1. If I’m awkward.
It bears repeating: I’m awkward. I no longer possess any f*cks to give about that.
Sure, I’m curious if others are innately non-awkward or if they work to stifle urges like seizing moments of alone time on a TV set to test out dance moves. But, either way, I no longer have any f*cks left to give about my inelegant ways.
#2. If people like me.
When I’m on the receiving end of reader-compliments about my writing voice (I say thank you and) I let people know it’s the only voice I’ve got.
My response isn’t meant to brush off the nicety only to convey if they didn’t—I can’t change it (and I’m confident there are the same number of people who do not enjoy).
I’ve gotta do me.
I’ve reached an age where being Unapologetically Myself isn’t a facet of who I am–it’s my entire being.
I understand if you don’t delight in the me I present–but I’ve got absolutely no f*cks left to hand you back in return.
#3. If my sartorial selections are in style.
Quite frankly this is the most obvious, on-the-surface indication of my rapidly depleting number of f*cks.
Does my beloved new coat make me look like a Wookiee? I adore it. Got no f*cks to exchange for your unrequested Wookiee-enlightenment.
Age appropriate? Remotely hip? I’ll probably not fall under either of those sartorial-umbrellas again in the future.
And yes. You guessed it. I simply cannot give a (alltogethernow) f*ck.
#4. If others believe in me.
Now, more than any other time in my life, I need to believe in me.
I am really all I have.
I need to have unlimited f*cks to give about what I’m doing, who I’m doing it with and how much energy I’m giving to all of it.
My ideas and dreams may be lofty, but I always believe in them and in myself.
Do I care if others join me? With the exclusion of a few specific individuals—I do not.
The photo above was snapped mid-judging during a body-building competition. According to the judges I came in last.
Did I care?
Do I look like I care?
When the judges announced how they saw me I metaphorically checked my (lack of) pockets and found they contained absolutely no f*cks to give.
#5. About various & sundry ways I’ve already f*cked up.
Good lord, I’ve screwed up my life many times and in many ways.
And I’m confident I will again.
I’ve absolutely no regrets (AKA no f*cks to give) about the myriad ways Ive messed up.
These errors–big and small–make me who I am. They’ve taught me hard lessons. I can’t look back, ruminate, and redo these actions repeatedly in my mind.
I may not yet be in a place of gratitude for all my mistakes have taught me—but I’m getting there.
And, for that very reason, I’ve chosen to waste no more f*cks on them.
- Am I a curmudgeon (waves cane/shouts “git off my lawn!”)? Are you over age 20 and believe you’ve plenty of f*cks left?
- What’s something on which you once squandered time & energy and have learned to no longer give a f*ck?