F*ck

You know that moment when you wake up and your first thought is “FUCK”. It could have been the best night’s sleep in the best possible sleeping conditions (e.g. cold room, hard mattress, pitch black) but that gut feeling just settles in like rapid-fire real nicely. Then, instead of following the typical morning programming, you go down the rabbit hole of “what did I get myself into”, maybe a “did I really have to say that” or even a little “I hate myself”. Once you land on the main idea of your anxious thoughts, the perseveration sets in. “Did I really have to say that” somehow spins into remarkably unrelated but equally time-consuming “should I get sneakers”, “I need a haircut” and an overall “that wasn’t my best work”. When the tangential thought-provoking topic is established, a trusted accomplice is called upon…or is this just a “me” thing? 

I am an external processor. If there’s something on my mind you better believe I’m going to tell you. Saying it out loud, putting words to thoughts, that’s what gives me solace.  It also reminds me that, no matter how real or severe it may feel, no one else cares. Simple. Just like that. No one cares! It’s my baggage to work through and put away. And while I hate unpacking (and packing), I accept how important it is to come to terms with the less pretty and more messy side of things to grow as a human. People have GREAT advice, that I know for sure. However, until I come face to face with the underlying driver of my anxieties and flaws, advice isn’t gonna cut it. I need to find out why I care.

When I wake up and my first thought is “FUCK”, deep down inside I know I’m going to be better for it. That the whack mistake maybe wasn’t a mistake and was instead a door leading me to a better path.  In the meantime, I’m going to text a few more friends for some external reassurance, engage in some TLC and drink another cup of coffee.  

So tell me about it…do you get the “fuck” feeling?