Oh dear. I’d written a lovely final post for F*K It. It was wise and wonderful, profound and witty. It’s now gone. Not sure what I did but I obviously didn’t save the draft. Oh well, F**K It – here’s a very hastily – and reluctantly – written post. Thing is, I don’t want F**k it to end. I really don’t.
I want to live in a F**K it world forever, preferably in Italy, drinking wine in the sun and listening to John and Gaia uttering funny, wise words which serve as an antidote to all the crap we listen to every day of our lives.
The crap that tells us that if we’re not pushing harder, doing more, striving to be thinner, fitter, richer, more successful, then we’re not doing it right.
As one friend put it, reading this book is like letting out a sigh of relief.
We all make life so much harder than we need to and it’s time to stop. It’s time to chill the F**K out and enjoy life. And no the world won’t end if you do that.
Here are things I’ve been saying F**K it a lot to recently:
I met mum the other day and she told me I looked ‘Bohemian’. This, of course, is code for ‘a holy mess’. She was right. My hair was wild, my jeans tatty and my make-up non-existent. Thing is I don’t care. I have spent years thinking I’m not pretty enough, well-dressed enough and that the world is judging me on that but I’m so over it. Taking a pride in your appearance is a good thing but think it’s the be all and end all is the road to misery. Like most people, I can scrub up really well and I can also look a state sometimes. Big deal. Whatever I look like I’m still, basically, a good person.
In February I went to stay with my friend Rebecca for the last few months. Rebecca is an AMAZING AMAZING cook. I have been eating and drinking and getting merry pretty much every night. I have put on weight. A bit of me cares but a bigger bit of me really doesn’t. I used to be so conscious of my weight – I’d walk into any room and automatically clock who was heavier and slimmer than me. I used to think that if I could just be slimmer things would be OK. But, of course, it doesn’t work like that. Even when I was a size ten, I picked holes in something else about myself – my skin, as oppose to the size of my bum.
So F**K it, accept the shape you’re in now. If you have a body that moves and works and isn’t in pain everyday – you’ve basically won the lottery. And I’m not always going to have someone cooking me risotto, roast chicken and cheesecakes, so I’m going to enjoy it while I can. When it gets to the point where I can’t fit into any of my clothes then no doubt I’ll make some changes. But until then I’m eating seconds.
Friends used to always tell me that I’d find someone when I stopped looking and I wanted to punch them. How do you stop looking for something you want? I’d pretend I wasn’t looking but I always was – hoping that each night out would be the night I met someone and coming home disappointed on the tube on my own. I felt like a failure and a loser. I felt like nobody decent would ever love me. Most of my friends were married with babies on the way and I felt totally pointless and lost. It was brutal. But about eighteen months ago I reached a point where I was so miserable with all this that I just had to stop. I said F**K it and went travelling, on my own, and had a ball. Men appeared at every turn. Lovely men. And yes, it was because I wasn’t looking. I was just having fun. None of them were The One but each enhanced my life in some way – and I’ve realised that’s enough. I’ve now stopped thinking about every man as a possible match, and just think of every person as someone cool to talk to. I have no idea if I’ll meet the man of my dreams and get married and have children. I’m not sure I really want that – but whatever happens I say F**K it to worrying about it and beating myself up over it. (I’ve written a piece for this month’s Red magazine about my solo road-trip and my various romances… check it out if you fancy it.)
I am so, so, so lucky that I do work that I love but I worked very hard to get to this place. I look back at how hard I drove myself in my twenties and see that it was crazy. Work matters and doing something you love matters but please don’t make yourself sick in the process. It’s just not worth it. You are good enough just as you are – you don’t need your boss or a promotion to make you worthwhile. One of the questions that came up on the retreat is whether F**K it means quitting your job – but it doesn’t necessarily. You can keep your job but have a more ‘F**K it’ attitude to that job – not that you don’t work hard but that you just don’t care about it all too much.
But even though I’ve been saying baby F**K its to things, saying a big Fat F**K it to life is scary.
I’m so naturally lazy, I’m scared that if I say F**K it to everything I’ll never leave the sofa.
John reckons that our problem is that we fight the natural rhythms of life. Sometimes it’s time to go out and do things but sometimes it’s time to rest. Say I did go to bed for a day, then a week, or even a month. He says that’s fine because one day I’d wake up and want to do something. And that’s when the good stuff happens. I know this isn’t necessarily practical for a lot of us – but actually I wonder if it’s a much more realistic option than we think it is. A lot of us push ourselves to the point where we get sick and then lying in bed and re-thinking is forced upon us. Why not take the time out before it gets to that point?
I have a friend who is a mother to four children and is a full time A&E doctor. She also bakes cakes for the school, runs marathons and is currently organising a party for her parents’ wedding anniversary. I don’t understand not only HOW she does it all but WHY does it all. She’s averaging no more than 4 hours of sleep a night. She told me she can’t stop because if she does she’s terrified that if she does she’ll never get up again. I’m scared she’s heading for a breakdown.
I think that we’re all scared of stopping on deeper level. We’re scared of the big, blank nothing that we think we’ll have to face, or worse still, of facing ourselves and so we keep running and worrying about stupid stuff.
Underneath all this F**K It stuff is the idea that we have to leg go and surrender and trust that it’s going to be all OK. That there is some sort of force will look after us – whether that’s God, or The Universe or something else. I find that hard to trust in but I have glimpses where I do.
Most of the best things that have happened in my life have happened totally without my planning and by surprise, as if they were meant to be. You meet the perfect person at the perfect time, read something that is exactly what you needed on that day… silly things that you can’t explain. But maybe these things are there all along, you just need to be in the right frame of mind to notice them.
Anyway, it’s getting spiritual now and it’s been a busy week and I don’t have the brain power left to write about big concepts in a simple way. But all this self-help stuff is beginning to join up. It’s all saying the same stuff really – think positively, enjoy the moment, trust that the world has your back. It’s all cliché I guess but from living these ideas – or at least trying to – for the last few months, I do feel a difference. I just keep having moments where I’m so grateful for everything I have and can’t believe how lucky I am. Yesterday the sight of two squirrels playing in the park got me weepy. They were so cute and beautiful and happy looking.
So there you go – I am on the verge of becoming an unbearable hippy. But F**K it. I hope it’s clear how much I totally and utterly love F**K It therapy and the people behind it. I think it’s my favourite so far – a tonic and I suggest all go out and buy it right now.[easyazon_link asin=”1781802963″ locale=”UK” new_window=”default” nofollow=”default” tag=”hemebl08-21″]F**k It: The Ultimate Spiritual Way[/easyazon_link]
It’s angels next – and to be honest, I’m sceptical but lots of people swear by they exist and there are dozens of books telling you how to contact them. Do you believe in angels? Any recommendations?
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