At the beginning of this year, I made being kind my New Year’s Resolution. In an external sense, this has not changed much about my day-to-day life or my day-to-day actions. From the outside, I am more or less the same as I was in 2014–a nice person, I hope, who tries to be a NICER person, but certainly no saint. Instead, my resolution to be kind has so far involved more of an internal shift in concentration, and a constant reminder to focus on my own actions, rather than the actions of other people. If I can help, I should help, if I can’t help, I shouldn’t despair over it, and if other people are either refusing to help or are actively contributing to a problem, f*ck ’em.
Strange words perhaps, from someone who wants to be a kinder person, but I don’t believe being kind and saying “f*ck it” to a few things are mutually exclusive. In fact, I think the ability to say “f*ck it” is one of the essential traits of people who are living their lives well (I believe Jesus referred to this as “turning the other cheek” but I have a bit of a profane streak).
Many people have bucket lists (i.e. lists of things they’d like to see or do before they kick the bucket), but I find those a little too high-pressure (after all, I could be hit by a bus tomorrow and I hate when items on to-do lists are left unchecked). Instead of thinking about what I need to do before I die, I’d rather consciously decide what not to worry about, in the hopes of living a life that is happier and healthier and more kindly towards my fellow humans.
I have called this list the F*ck It List:
- Any bucket list with an age stipulation. As someone who will be 29 in a few months, I’m tired of seeing lists in my Facebook and Twitter feeds telling me what I must do, what I must see, and places I must travel, all before I’m 30. Why does experience stop when you reach a certain age? When I’m 30, will my arms and legs and eyes suddenly pop out of my body, leaving me incapable of watching a sunrise over the Mediterranean, hiking to Machu Picchu, or kissing someone in the rain? WHY DIDN’T ANYONE TELL ME MY ABILITY TO EXPERIENCE THE JOYS OF LIFE WAS GOING TO END SO SOON???!!! Bullshit. When TC and I went to the Galapagos Islands a couple of years ago, one of the couples on our boat was in their 70s (if not 80s). They participated in all the activities (though I believe the wife sat out of the snorkeling), had an amazing attitude, and a wonderful time. And who are the people writing these lists anyways? Short-sighted fellow Millennials who work as writers for clickbait websites, who truly believe the sun rises and sets on their youth and can’t fathom a life after it? Why are these people the experts on MY life’s needs? And can a fulfilling life really be distilled into a list of generic (and often cliche) enjoyable experiences? Many people I’ve met who have bucket lists of some kind are amazing, open people who embrace their desires for adventure and experience as part of a full and varied life. But some people completely miss the bigger picture which is that bucket lists should enrich your life, not take it over. And also that your 20s are (likely) only one small fraction in the entirety of your life. It’s fine to leave some experiences for later. If I die tomorrow, I want only two things: one, to be fully confident that the people I care about know I love them; and two, to be fully confident that they know that I know that they love me. As long as I can maintain that, the rest is gravy, and nothing to get anxious about. So I’ll turn 30 without ever seeing a monkey in the wild (which I’d really like to do)? F*ck it, that’s okay.
- Winning. I really, REALLY like to win. Especially arguments. I want to be right, but more than that, I want my “opponent” to KNOW I’m right, and to admit that I’m right. The idea that someone might go to their grave being wrong about something I TOLD them I was right about makes my skin crawl. And that’s not their problem, it’s mine. F*ck winning–lately I’ve realized that winning often means NOT having the last word. And at that point, it’s not winning, because there is no contest. It’s just living. Too many people want to win, and it’s screwing up our province and our country and our planet because no one will extend a hand or admit that perhaps they don’t know everything.
- Online comments. F*ck ’em. I know I should never read the comments on online articles, but sometimes I do, and it destroys my faith in humanity, so I should really just stop forever.
- Money. It drives too many of our decisions and it’s just something we made up. People worry about it, people fight about it, people kill each other and the planet for it. I have never yet regretted parting with money if doing so would make me happier or healthier. (Of course, I am lucky that I had enough of it in the first place that I could make the decision to part with some. Obviously, if you don’t have enough money to support yourself or your family I understand why you can’t say “f*ck it” to money but those of us who can, should. Some of the people who worry about money the most have more of it than they need).
- Worrying about the future. Obviously, it’s good to be prepared and I definitely believe in insurance, health benefits, and retirement savings, but I often worry about crazy hypothetical situations like what if my future, currently non-existent children are criminals, and also more probable and therefore anxiety-inducing hypotheticals like what I’ll do when my parents are older if they are unhealthy, or what would happen if I became paralyzed or something (for whatever reason). There’s nothing I can do, in this moment, to prevent any of these possibilities, and worrying about them is useless. The grasshopper in the Aesop fable probably shouldn’t have sang ALL summer (a bit of food-collecting wouldn’t have been a bad idea what with winter on its way), but I think he was on to something about not delaying too much joy and contentedness for a future date. This is not a contradiction of my above point on ageist bucket lists being stupid. I’m just saying it’s always a good time for peace of mind.
- Guilt. It’s not the best reason to do anything good, and if you aren’t going to do anything good with it, you may as well say “f*ck it” to feeling guilty about stuff. Of course, if you do something wrong you should feel remorse, apologize, and try to learn something, but letting guilt keep you up at night? F*ck that.
- Mainstream media outlets, and the way they choose to tell stories, and the way celebrities’ lives are depicted as more important or newsworthy than the lives of “regular” people, and the way the relative “merits” of certain (usually female) body parts are discussed in magazines and online as if you can choose what kind of ass to have the way you’d choose which model of dishwasher to buy, and the way some people are called terrorists and monsters and others are just “lone wolves with mental health issues” or “separatists” or “freedom fighters” and the difference between them is usually just their skin colour or religion. I don’t have to buy that crap.
- Wasting my time on the Internet. I’m on here way too much. Spending too much time on the Internet makes me think I have to know everything, and sometimes, it makes me think I need to say everything, or not even everything, just ANYTHING. And saying anything just to say something isn’t good enough. So with that in mind…