F**k It Therapy

by John C. Parkin

  Everything must go. It’s a fact. But it doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy to accept.

  So is it true for you, when you look deeply into it, that most (if not all) of your fears are founded on your fear of loss, and ultimately of your and others’ deaths? Think about it. What are you scared of? Are you scared of losing your job, of your house going up in flames, of becoming ill, of your kids getting killed on the roads, of your portfolio going down in value, of your parents dying, of your looks going, of global warming, of gaining weight, of crashing the car, of your hair falling out, of the meeting going badly, of time passing, of missing out, of not using your potential, of nuclear war, of meteorites hitting, of water running out, of your children growing up, of staying where you are, or leaving? What are you scared of? And, underneath, isn’t it all about loss?

  It strikes me that we have to face this loss thing head on one way or another. It’s worth looking at what we’re fearful about and understanding the source of that fear. It’s worth confronting the fact, the inescapable and unavoidable fact (no matter how hard we try to escape it and avoid it) that Everything Must Go.

  F**k It in this context isn’t about saying F**k It to fear. That implies we ignore the fear that pulses beneath everything we do and just get on and do things. No, say F**k It and face your fears. And face the big fears underneath your fears.

  And here are a few things that might help, as you take steps to confront your fears:

  We’re all scared of something. And many of us are scared of quite a few things.

  Even the people who look tough are scared underneath. Read my tough guy mate, Peter M. Hammond’s journey through cancer in The Bad Times Bible for an insight into how blind fear gets to us all.

  Whatever you’re scared of, others are facing day-to-day realities that are much worse.

  It’s okay and natural to feel scared, to feel sad, and to cry about it occasionally. I was reading recently about Charles Dickens. Contrary to our stereotypical image of the stiff-upper-lipped English man, apparently Dickens and his male friends would gather together to tell stories, and would weep over the sad parts. Of course, in those days, death was a more everyday experience than it is now (especially in infants). But it didn’t harden people to pain, sadness, and fear. They were in touch with that pain and would weep together.

  Try to face the fact of your own death. Accept that it will happen. Try to live in acceptance of your inevitable death, but in a daily love and appreciation of life.

  It’s a sad cosmic joke that the more we love life, the more we get attached to it, and the more fear and sadness we feel about losing it. In fact, if we’re overcome with fear and sadness, which grew out of love and enthusiasm for life and for living, it can lead to depression and less of a desire to live. Maybe that’s natural. It’s like the natural ebbing and flowing of life’s energy: the natural carousel of tension and relaxation, the circular expansion and contraction of the universe. Maybe it’s a self-balancing mechanism: we love life more until we love it so much that we can’t bear the thought of losing it, until the fear becomes so great that we become depressed and less bothered about losing it, and lose the pain that it might be lost until we start to love life again, and we love life more until we love life so much that we can’t bear the thought of losing it… and so on.

  I said ‘F**k It’ to anxiety

  As a 24-year-old female who suffered with anxiety since the age of 16, I cannot express the relief I felt when reading the F**k It books.

  I used to be a doormat for a number of people and had such crippling anxiety that ‘It’ prevented me from living my life normally. I remember when I first saw the book in the bookstore. I didn’t buy it at first. I was drawn to it, as it stood out from other books in the Self-Help section. I went back the next day, as I honestly could not get the words ‘F**k It’ out of my head. I bought it and since then I haven’t looked back.

  I said ‘F**k It’ to the people in my life who decided they could walk over me and treat me like dirt. I said ‘F**k It’ to the voice inside my head that told me I couldn’t do something because I wasn’t good enough. I admit I’m not 100 percent cured and still get off-days when I just want to shut myself away. But the beauty is, that I can actually say ‘F**k It’ to that, too, and have a day where I end up having a threesome with Ben & Jerry, curled up on the sofa watching chat shows. I truly believe that I am finally experiencing and LIVING ‘The F**K IT LIFE.’

  – Emma Stone, UK

  Just one of 100 F**k It stories in the new e-book I Said F**k It, available at www.thefuckitlife.com/extras.

  Say F**k It and face that fear. A little bit at a time. See if you can live with the two apparent opposites: love and innocent joy for the boundless gorgeousness of life, with a gentle awareness of its passing nature.

  You probably know the story, told in many different ways of the king who wants one nugget of wisdom that can help him through all times, good and bad. His wisest counselors thought long and hard and they came up with this:

  THIS TOO SHALL PASS.

  Type it out. Print it large. Stick it on the wall. The words should be erected like ‘HOLLYWOOD’ over all our towns and cities.

  In fact, I had the idea, a few years ago, of putting these words, created in metal, on the front wall of our retreat ‘The Hill That Breathes.’ I wanted people to remember that, as beautiful as the place and experience was, ‘this,’ too, would pass. Sure, I thought, it might take a long time to pass, but pass it surely would. Even I’ve been surprised by how quickly it passed, in the form it was at least.

  That passed and this, too, shall pass.

  BREAKING THROUGH THE WALL OF SERIOUSNESS

  We all start off as kids. And kids don’t take things that seriously: they play, they’re spontaneous, they laugh a lot, they do as they fancy.

  And we end up as adults. And adults usually take everything very seriously: they work hard, they worry a lot, they don’t play very much, or laugh very much, and they – more often than not – do what they think is their duty, rather than what they fancy.

  So, what happened?

  We listened to the voices outside, is what happened. The perpetual broadcasting – which C-Blockers are subjected to – is what we get as we grow up. For a while we just have to listen to other kids and their silly broadcasts. But then adults get to insert their message more often. Schools are set up to bring adult messages to kids and thus help them make the transition from kids to adults. And look how successful schools are. They may struggle sometimes to get kids to read and write very well. They may struggle sometimes to persuade their pupils not to fight or carry knives. But what they’re very, very good at is turning children from playful, spontaneous, care-free kids into serious-intentioned, care-ful adults.

  That’s how it is. And it all seems so natural. We train our kids to care: to care for the environment (well that can’t be bad, can it?); to care for their family and friends (ditto); to care about doing well; to care about passing exams so they can go to college, get a nice job, to earn nice money, to buy a nice house, to have a nice family, to go on nice trips away, to get a better job, and earn more money, and buy a better house, and enjoy better trips away… And, along with all this, we ask them to care about their health – to eat right and exercise – be a good wife or husband, mother or father, daughter or son, and to be good in the kitchen, and around the house, etc., etc.

  We’re taught to care, because where would we be if we didn’t care?

  We’re taught to care because adults care.

  Why do adults care? Because they like all the stuff that surrounds them and don’t want to lose it. And not just the stuff: every aspect of their lives. An adult very quickly gets attached to stuff he or she likes. As we become adults, it’s as if we wear Velcro clothing – everything sticks to it. We appropriate everything we like, from stuff we want to the qualities we think work for us, to the idea of being a certain way, or a certain weight, or healthy. It’s only natural, but we
become deeply attached to everything as we get older. As much as we become attached to, say, our home and a certain standard of living, we become attached to ideas that life should be a certain way.

  We’re all attached, so we all care. Of course we care. If you don’t want to lose something, you care. If you weren’t bothered about losing it, or not even having it in the first place, you wouldn’t care. And because you care, you’re serious about it. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be so serious, would you?

  So what on earth is the problem with caring – even if it makes you a little more serious?

  The problem is that we care too much about too many things. And that’s usually unsustainable – not in the sense of environmental sustainability; though, of course, our deep care for all that stuff is also environmentally unsustainable. In fact, it looks as if our global warming predicament is a bit of a catch-22 on these terms: environmentalists want us to care more all the time, to take things more seriously, yet if we cared less in general, and didn’t take things so seriously, we’d probably work less, earn less, spend less, have less stuff, travel less, use less energy… all really naturally.

  No, if we care so much about so much, then we’re exposed when things change. And things always change. Shares can go down as well as up, of course. And life goes down as well as up. Health goes down as well as up. Relationships go down as well as up. House prices go down as well as up. Job prospects go down as well as up. Weight goes up as well as down. Boobs go down as well as up. Erections go down as well as up. Kids grow up. Global temperatures go up. Ice caps go down. Sea levels go up. The Eastern economy goes up, the Western economy goes down.

  But don’t get down.

  Because, of course, there are things that you’ll always care about, and take seriously (and you’ll all choose different things).

  But the problem is caring too much about too many things. That’s why you’re working too hard to keep the whole show on the road; that’s why you’re stressing so much about bits of the show breaking down; that’s why you’re getting sick of doing the first two things.

  So here’s a couple of exercises you can do to see what’s really important for you.

  Imagine you’re 18 again. Write a letter to the older you (the you of now).

  Imagine you’re 85. Write a letter to the younger you (the you of now).

  Go on, do it, you lazy arse. It works a treat1, believe me. In fact, I’ll go out for dinner now, do the exercises again myself, and see what comes up. See you later.

  John x

  Okay, I’m back again.

  Well, I don’t know what you found out, of course, but the basic message to me was the usual one – jettison the stuff that’s weighing me down, stop worrying about things that don’t matter in the grand scheme of things… blah, blah, blah.

  Think about what it would be like if you took your own advice: imagine what it would be like to care LESS about lots of things in your life (and watch the miracle happen as you’re then able to spend more of your care energy on the things that really do matter).

  This act is saying a big F**k It to lots of things in your life that you’re currently worrying about.

  For us, one of the core meanings of F**k It is this: it doesn’t matter so much.

  It’s one of my favorite F**k It mantras, and I do say it again and again (as you would, with a mantra):

  F**k It. It doesn’t matter so much.

  F**k It. It doesn’t matter so much.

  F**k It. It doesn’t matter so much.

  Sing it. Tattoo it on your belly, upside-down so you can read it when you look down.

  It’s magic I say… it’s a magic mantra.

  And you know what happens as this magic starts to work? You start taking things less seriously. In a big way. Not because you’ve had a drink or two, or watched a good comedy, but because you care less.

  You’re lighter, freer; you, my friend, are becoming a F**kiteer.

  Sing that, too, if you fancy…

  ‘I’m lighter, I’m freer, I’m finally becoming a F**kiteer.’

  1 Works brilliantly and is pleasantly surprising.

  BREAKING THROUGH THE WALL OF SELF-DOUBT

  Those people who give ‘feedback’ always say they have our interests at heart – especially bosses, teachers, parents. They do it to help us improve, because, otherwise we’d be lost and hopeless. And they remind us of that, too. They believe their place on this Earth is to help us see the light and find the better path and life awaiting us. If only we’d listen to them, take them seriously, see that they’re just trying to help us, then we could benefit from their constructive wisdom.

  But why does it feel so different? Why does it just feel like we’re being nagged? Why do we feel that they’re just using this ‘I’m-saying-this-for-your-benefit’ line to hide behind, when all they’re doing is taking out all their insecurities and hang-ups on us? Why? Because they probably are.

  The sad fact is that many of us have been (and sometimes still are) subjected to constant criticism, especially as children. Now, of course, parents and adults do need to teach children certain things about behavior. But we all know the difference between:

  ‘Kylie, please wait for everyone else before you start eating.’

  And…

  ‘Kylie, why are you so selfish? I have to tell you every single day not to eat before the rest of us. Can’t you see that I haven’t even sat down yet? I slave away to put a meal on the table for you, and all you want to do is gulp it down and get back to your video games. Do you know how that makes me feel? You wait till you have kids, young lady, maybe then you’ll understand.’

  Children are free, spontaneous, innocent souls. And that can be beautiful and inspiring to behold. Unless, of course, you’re a trapped, stressed, resentful, angry, unconscious adult. In which case that child offers a constant reminder of what you’re not – of what you’ve lost and of what you’ll never be again. And that just makes you even angrier, which is wrong and unfair. If you’ve had a shit life, why should they sit there feeling so free? Of course, you’d never think about that, or realize that. Otherwise, the pain might start to penetrate that frosted-up heart. No, you’re doing this for their benefit. And we’ve seen you doing this for their benefit outside school, in the restaurant, in the grocery store:

  ‘Kylie, would you stop messing around. Just keep up. I’ve got lots to do here. No, you can’t have any Cheerios. Do you know how much they cost? You think money grows on trees? You wait till you have to earn some money around here, then you’ll realize. You’re just so selfish.’

  That, and a similar range of comments, is what we hear every day, and heard as kids.

  Now listen, I’m a parent, I know parenting is no piece of cake. It’s close to impossible not to let your stuff get mixed up in the game occasionally. You lose your patience with your children more because something has upset you at work than because what your children have done justifies it. We’ve all done it. We all do it. We’ll all continue to do it. But, please, stay conscious; know when it’s you and when it’s them. And go easy on the little ones.

  And go easy on yourself – even when you’re not going so easy on the little ones.

  Go easy on yourself because no one else has been. So it’s up to you. You see, all that criticism you’ve been subjected to, no matter what the motivation was, has had its effect. It always has its effect. Sure, some of the effects might apparently be positive. You might be a very polite, considerate person. But it also has many negative effects. Because what all those adults were saying (with your best interest at heart, of course) was ‘You’re wrong. You’re doing wrong. You’re not up to much. You’re not good enough.’

  That’s the message we receive: YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH. And we receive it from people who are giants in our world: the parents and teachers who dominate our world, whom we often look up to, and sometimes love, too. But these giants are telling us, YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH, YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH. When we’re
told, ‘Can you just try, for once, to keep your bloody room tidy please?’ We hear, YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH. When we try our hardest at school and are told, ‘Could do better, could try harder,’ we receive, YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

  And not just as kids. When we miss that job opportunity, when we get that work review, when we’re dumped in a relationship, when we get to the meeting late and they look at us in that way, we receive, YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

  So, slowly, but inevitably, we start to feel I’M NOT GOOD ENOUGH. Until we feel that, in almost every way, I’M NOT GOOD ENOUGH. And we doubt ourselves in everything we do. And become hard on ourselves. And push ourselves harder. But the voice is always there – ‘I’M NOT GOOD ENOUGH.’ And because we’re now so deep in self-doubt (and the doubt is always ‘AM I GOOD ENOUGH?’), we become hard on others, too. So we start to tell those around us, in one way or another, YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH. And the stinking cycle continues, knocking the self-esteem out of millions of people every day, as more and more people slip into chronic, and possibly permanent, self-doubt.