The Power of F*ck

The Power of Fuck……as in, don’t give one. Not one. Not two. Not any.

Nada. 

Zero. 

Zilch......got it?

The other day I was climbing up into my Tahoe, my hands were full with my phone, my debit card, a little baggie from the restaurant where I had just ordered my salad on top of the most delicious smoothie, as well as a full cup of water with no lid. Why this restaurant does not supply lids for their water cups is beyond me, but I took my chances, filled ‘er to the rim and clumsily made my way into my car.  

“Phewww," I thought as I managed to arrange everything in a safe place until I could get situated. The drink holder in my lower console was full of water bottles and other such junk so I couldn’t immediately put my drink in there. I set it on the middle console, between the two seats, where there were no cupholders. As I started to find spots for everything; my food bag, the smoothie, my phone, my debit card, I accidentally hit the cup and water spilled all over my lower console; where I keep ALLLLL the things. And all over the floor. 

“Fuck!” My windows were down and I said it loud enough that whoever was walking past my car could hear. For a split second I thought, “Whoops, I shouldn't say that so loud.” But then I watched the water fill up every nook, cranny, and crevice and seep into my Post-It Notes where I write my ideas, reminders, and anything important I want to remember, and as it began to form puddles I got angry and I yelled it this time. “FUCK!”

I immediately texted one of my friends and complained to her that I had just spilt a whole cup of water all over the console that holds everything in my car. She replied with, “Oh dang!”  To which I responded, “Yeah, dang is not the word I used.” 

After I cleaned up as much as I could without having anything on hand to sop up the mess, my mind got to thinking about the difference between dang and fuck. I thought about how I used to be a ‘dang girl’. I used to be the girl who, the worst swear I ever said was damn, and even then I felt tremendous guilt. 

Growing up, I don’t remember my parents ever sitting me down and saying, “Now Ericka, we don’t use filthy language in this house. It’s wrong.” I don’t remember them swearing in everyday conversation either. There may have been a time when I was younger and I was playing Jacks and I accidentally said shit.  My dad heard me and I remember getting sent to my room. But that was the extent of, Bad Language Discipline, I ever received in my home, as much as I can remember, anyway.  BUT what I was taught in church is that our language should ALWAYS be clean, and swearing is a sin. A sin. 

The word sin always scared me. I never wanted to do anything bad or stray from choosing the right. I was so hellbent on not sinning I spent countless minutes, moments, hours, evaluating my behavior at every turn. In a way, it got to be obsessive. I was always feeling like I could be so much better, I could do so much more, and always felt like I needed to ‘repent’. Not a fun, nor healthy way to live. 

Fast forward to my thirties and what can I say, LIFE HAPPENS. And happened it did. I lost my marriage, my health and my religion all at the same time.  I found myself alone, in a house that I couldn’t take care of, with a yard that I couldn’t take care of, while needing to be a mom to kids, I couldn’t take care of. I had a hard time taking care of myself, let alone the two little monkey faces that were depending on me to feed them, clean them, and entertain them.  Shit got real, and it got real fast. 

When things got real, everything I ever thought I knew and/or believed flew out the motherfucking window. And I had to start completely from scratch. 

THAT is when my love affair with The Fuck Word started.  I remember feeling so many emotions, so many feelings at once, that “crap” or “shoot” or “frick” didn’t cover the gamut. Didn’t do justice to how deeply I was feeling SO MANY SHITTY things. At once. So I started saying fuck. I said it and something inside me said, “Yep, that hits the spot. Say it again.”  So I said it again. I would say it while bawling my eyes out, alone, and in pain, in my bed at night. I would scream it while sitting in my car, in my garage so my kids wouldn’t hear, crying so hard I was hyperventilating. I would yell it at God, I would yell it at my situation, I would even yell it at my ex, not directly at him, but “at him” while I was hyperventilating in my car.  The Fuck Word became my drug of choice, which even you have to admit, it's better than Percocet; which I had ample access to, just never partook. 

It became my word for empowerment. I felt power when I said it. I felt relief. I felt satiated, and it was glorious. The more I said it, the more comfortable it became. And eventually, I let go of all the guilt from using it. I began to view it as just a word, like "green" or "hungry". It became so much more than just a swear. It had meaning. I began to say it with freedom. Freedom from being judged, freedom from being a sinner, freedom from being ruled by the confines of an institution that governed my every thought, action, decision; down to my very being. 

I came to find other uses for The Fuck Word as well. Like when I got good news, it works great at conveying joy! “FUCK YES!!!”  Or when I had to tell someone how much I truly loved and adored their face. “I FUCKING love and adore your face.” Who wouldn't feel the love?  Or if there was something I really, really, really did not want to do, I'd throw out a "Fuck no!" And my point would be made.  

There are hundreds of ways to use The Fuck Word. Believe me, I’ve used them. And while there are lots of people out there who just don’t get it, who can’t stand to hear the harshness of it, the abrasiveness of it, the dirtiness of it,  (which I totally understand, that used to be me; no judgement here) I know that I can never go back to NOT saying it. It literally brought me comfort in a time when I felt like I would never feel comfort again. I say it fiercely now, with conviction, with purpose, hell, sometimes without purpose, and I say it without giving one fuck as to what people think about it.