Life

2019: This year brought to you by the word Fuck

As we bid farewell to the bastard that was 2018 … and we look forward to the hope and possibilities of 2019, Ash and I thought we’d take a moment to set our intentions for the year. Not a list of resolutions we will never keep, but rather our anthem, our battle cry, our aim for 2019.

Inspired by an insta post that asked followers what their ‘word of the year’ is for 2019, we (well, Ash) decided on our absolute perfect mantra for this upcoming year.

Fuck.

 

Unfuck yourself – Aly

1

Years ago, I had my heart broken at my job.

I won’t go into all the details, but long story short, I was given a dream position, then had it taken away 4 months later. They told me it had nothing to do with me, it was just corporate politics. But it crushed me.

And it was the best thing that ever happened to me.

A couple of years ago I had my heart broken by a man, my dream man, who promised me the world. Then took it back.

He told me it had nothing to do with me. It was just the way it had to be (and, in his defense, it kinda was). But it crushed me. 

And it was the best thing that could’ve ever happened to me.

Both experiences taught me some invaluable life lessons, things I likely wouldn’t have learned without having gone through these particular heartbreaks. At first, they were crushing blows that made me doubt who I was and made me feel utterly rejected and completely lost. But in the recovery for both, I learned the following:

• To never let a job dictate my worth. A job is what I do to afford my life, but my life is NOT my job. I am not my job. My worth, my life is so much more than that.

  I learned to set up boundaries with my job. It’s up to me to dictate the terms of my relationship with my employer. It’s ok to work hard, but it’s also ok to say no when the requests are unreasonable and might affect my overall health and happiness. I also learned that by doing this I received respect from both my peers and superiors, and in the end produced better creative work because of it.

• I learned (from my messy breakup) people will make judgements about your character without knowing you, without understanding context. And I learned to not allow this to change my own knowledge of who I am at my core.

• I learned that just because someone wasn’t ready or capable of loving me in the way they promised, in the way I deserve, that it has nothing to do with my worth.  It is a reflection of them and their fears and not me (even if I was a jerk face at times, I still deserved love).

• I learned the healing value of closure. I learned that loss and heartbreak, both in my career and my love life, can be the greatest creative motivators and inspiration. And teachers, if you let them.

2018 was about closing some doors that needed to be closed, for good so that I could move forward. 2019 is all about continuing that process of ‘unfucking’ myself so that I can move towards a bright and happy future.

This is a short, incomplete list of the various things I will be saying fuck to in this year:

Fuck fake.  Fuck anything that isn’t authentic. 

Fuck co-depedency (in myself and in others).

Fuck arbitrary meaningless rules that serve ego and mindless corporate BS, and not the greater good.

Fuck men not over their exes (I get it and I have sympathy but please stay the fuck away).

Fuck people not wanting to grow who try to keep you from growing, because it threatens where they feel safe … and they want you there too.

Fuck my inner demons. Fuck the voices in my head that say it’s too late and I’m not good enough. Fuck depression.

Fuck THE RESISTANCE, which is basically anything internal or external fighting to keep me from accomplishing my creative dreams. (read this book if you haven’t)

Fuck DATING. I’m so so so so over casual dating. And I’m not gonna do it anymore. Fuck it. If I date, it will be with intention. Or I’m just not going to date. If you aren’t into that, I totally understand but could you politely fuck the fuck off

Fuck the idea that I am not whole or complete or magnificent just as I am, alone. Fuck the idea that as a single, heterosexual (but not super happy about it), semi-successful woman I must be in want of a man to complete my life.

(Fuck that part of me that still struggles to believe this. Fuck the part of me that still feels that I’m no one unless someone loves me.)

Fuck the idea that a woman who enjoys connecting physically through sex isn’t a good girl. Fuck the idea that a woman who has dated a lot must be damaged or ‘bad’.

(Fuck the part of me that still struggles to believe this. Fuck the part of me that still ruthlessly judges me for all my past mistakes.)

Fuck anything that isn’t real and deep and meaningful. Fuck fluff friendships. Fuck emotional manipulation.

Fuck my bad reputation. Fuck my good one too. Fuck the idea of a ‘reputation’ at all.

Fuck this shit.

This year will be about saying fuck to anything that doesn’t resonate on a deep, core level as real and true and good for my soul and good for my craft.

Heartbreak made me stronger and gave me the balls to stand up for myself and what I’m worth. It taught me to say fuck to meaningless, empty shit and meaningless, empty words … be it from lovers or from employers. It gave me the gift of a thicker, tougher skin and a softer, more empathetic heart … and it put a fire in my bones for spreading the truth … my authentic, messy, chaotic, bad-girl-good-girl, rebel-yell truth.

May we all be free to do that … always.

Fuck it. Let’s do this 2019. 

 


 

Out with the fucks, In with the fuck its. – Ash

2

Amen. And fuck anyone who disagrees with you, or my amen.

Yes, Yes, it’s true… my sordid and dark mind immediately went to the word, “Fuck” for 2019. It’s fitting. Not only for all of the amazing reasons Aly mentioned, but also because 2019 symbolizes expression for me. And what word is more expressive than “Fuck?”  I don’t know. You’ll have to comment to let me know if you know of a better one.

So, let me think back to that moment I was saying fuck it to work and chatting with Aly on gchat when that insta post was messaged to me.  Oh, you know the one… the inspirational, positive, sweet, motivational kind. To be honest? My first reaction to seeing that image and reading the words was, “Oh for fucks sake.  Fuck that.”

Don’t get me wrong – I hope that all the fluffy inspirational worded images you see on insta truly do improve your life.  But it’s been my experience that they are worth about a 3 second (at best) hit of superficial happiness, “insta”ntly followed by a disappointingly sad drop.  Just me? It’s cool. I don’t give a fuck.  I mean, we’re on insta too, so we are partly contributors…

However, I am not really sure why that was my initial response.  I suppose because I am so tired of reading all these things that tell me how I should be thinking, how I should be acting, how I should do this, or do that.  FUCK IT ALL.

So, in an effort to please you with a fuck filled expression for 2019, here we go…

2018 was a tumultuous one.  Rung in on the coattails of a very terrible 2017, I had just begun a new job.  However, the manner in which I left my prior company left me feeling completely frustrated, degraded, insignificant and weary.   

Needless to say, I gave it a honest gal’s try in the early days while working through some emotional turmoil in the process.  I put on my learning cap.  I inhaled all I could despite my mental healing taking place. I went to meetings and took all the notes, I met with clients, I created powerpoints and sales decks, learned the different divisions and operations of the company, developed new systems, went to more meetings, and resolved so many client complaints… I did all the things.  (And I came home every night and drank.  A lot. And I would wake up with a slight hangover and do it again.  Drink, sleep, work, repeat.)

On my first vacation at the new job, I bought a house and renovated it in 5 days with my guy.  We spent a full week, working. Stripped carpets, laid new floors, priming and painting walls, baseboards, cabinets… we got it finished, but my god – exhausting.  

I traveled to many new cities in the US… alone, for work.  I traveled to a few new cities with Aly and my guy (of course scheduled around work trips).  I lost my completely adored and healthy pup to a freak instant illness in one day (unrelated, but still a shitty aspect of 2018).  I made more meetings, contracts, and met many more employment obligations. Oh, did I mention I worked a lot?

There are two different types of fucks.  The kind that are concerned and given – often overly so – and mean you care when you maybe shouldn’t (i.e. giving too many fucks about a person, thing or situation).  And then there are the rebellious kinds of fucks – where you don’t give them anymore, and just cease caring all together (i.e. “fuck that”).  I think around mid December, I gave so many concerned fucks, that it rapidly gave way to a muddled rebellious fuckfest.  So here we go:

Fuck expectations that aren’t clearly communicated and fuck your response when objectives aren’t completed in the way you failed to convey.

Fuck pressure to be present in the office when I could work from home (and fuck asking for permission to work from home – I’m just gonna tell you I’m doing it).

Fuck the accusatory email you just wrote me, and fuck your impression of me for not even dignifying it with a response.

Fuck that issue, I can’t do anything about it since I don’t have the proper tools to resolve it.  Fuck taking the blame for that.

Fuck remaining in this meeting you poorly scheduled that is now running over.  I am not canceling my lunch appointment with my friend, mother, or boyfriend. Gotta go.  Byeeeee.

And of course, there are also those rebellious fucks from a relationship perspective that started to emerge as well.  That’s a whole other set of concerned fucks I don’t have energy to give anymore, too.  We’re working them out right now, but here is what I have concluded:

Fuck trying to earn your approval of my decisions for myself that are healthy and beneficial for me (My issue of accepting myself where I am).

Fuck trying to convince you that I have worth and matter in this relationship, too.  You’ll either choose to see it or you won’t. 

Fuck trying to convince you that I am on your team, despite all my actions, words and decisions that point to prove it.

Fuck trying to meet some societal expectation that you used to buy into of what my body should look like in hopes to try and gain more of your attention. (disclaimer, he says he doesn’t prescribe to this thinking anymore, but I do maintain my doubts.  So this is my issue that I am saying fuck it to).

Fuck feeling like I am a failure in your eyes for the seemingly regressed choices I am making in a brave and scary effort to grow in a new way (again, my issue).

Fuck always carrying the emotional load of responsibility in trying to ensure we stay connected.

Fuck trying to organize my time to be available to you, when you seemingly don’t do the same.

Fuck me trying to figure out what you need when you’re pissy or upset.  Since you aren’t doing the labor of self-evaluation to know what you need first, Fuck me taking on the work and responsibility of drawing that information out.  You’re an adult – Do it yourself and communicate it.

Fuck the effort I give in trying to show you what is important to me on a soul level.  If you’re interested, you’ll ask. (And Fuck me making excuses to myself when you don’t ask. I am taking things at their face value from now on.)

(For those interested, many of these conclusions were derived from 3 previous posts I have written here  re: body/health, here re: self-worth/self-awareness and here re: seemingly regressed choices for growth)

So there we have it, folks.  Perhaps it’s that it’s now day 6 of my no-booze situation from when this was written, and I am under a hyper-sensitive awareness of all those emotions I was trying to access. Perhaps it’s that I am almost 36 and the effort and energy of putting up with shit that makes me feel bad, is running its course.  Regardless, I don’t care (fuck it).  It’s a good place to be. I am grateful for it.  I’m finally weeding out and giving energy to all those things that I value and care about, and erecting boundaries around those areas to which I don’t.

So, happy fucking 2019, y’all.  May the path you choose be overwhelmed with more of the right kinds of fucks to give, and less of the wong kind.  

Cheers.

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