I Don't Give a Rat's Ass

Or do I?

With so much other work in the MFA, I give myself an hour tops to write these weekly wonderings. Sometimes there is something to say, other times there isn’t. But there is always something, whether I feel like writing about it or not. That’s what happens when you have a brain that won’t turn off, that spins and oscillates, creating situations and catastrophic thoughts like a freaking backyard sprinkler soaking everything and everyone within a ten-foot radius in anxiety. In class today, we discussed Seneca and the philosophy of Stoicism, and how a certain type of elitist male personality has adopted it in recent times as a way to cope or exert control in a world that is largely out of control. The underlying principle is separating the things in life that you can control (your thoughts, judgments, and actions) from what you cannot (external events, other people’s actions, and your body). Seems like a nice idea, right? More power to them, I guess.

I, on the other hand, take life as it comes—a pickle ball flying from unknown directions that I swat out of the way just before it smacks me in the face. When I was younger, this way of life would often floor me. Fueled by PMS and unregulated emotions, I would wang out pretty easily over the slightest upheaval or chaotic interlude. While I was cool in a crisis, I tended to lose my shit if I was unable to wrangle the conflict under control. Post-menopause, I’ve gotten way better at reining in my emotions, and often don’t give a rat’s ass what other people think.

Now, that’s not the same as being stoic, as stoicism encourages acceptance of what is outside your control and views challenges not as catastrophes but opportunities to practice virtue blah blah blah. If I were stoic, by now I’d weigh 110 pounds and be able to bench press a preteen and have written ten novels and have ample control over the little voice in my head that chants “YOU SUCK” on repeat. I wouldn’t let an uncomfortable phone call with a loved one derail me for days on end. Still, in not giving a rat’s ass, being middle-aged has allowed me the freedom to be able to make small talk with anyone, anywhere. And to be able to jump nimbly from that small talk into real shit pretty quickly. I’ve always had that ability, but now it feels more vital. The connections are more real and important. Seneca wrote, “People are frugal in guarding their personal property; but as soon as it comes to squandering time, they are most wasteful of the one thing it is right to be stingy of.”

This sentiment aligns perfectly with an interview (IE, short Instagram video) I watched where former Daily Show host Trevor Noah said the most important word a person with ADHD can learn to wield is NO. I am learning to say no to some things that do not bring me joy and yes to things that do. When I say yes to friends, I want it to be when it’s important instead of when I feel obligated. I want the time I spend away from myself and my goals to be something that truly helps someone. I want to feel good about being there and listening, because that’s the main thing I have to offer people. (Well, that and pots. Lots and lots of pots.) But then take the time I need for myself without feeling guilty or rushed. I want to say yes to my husband and child almost always. And remember that they need me even when they don’t act like it.

This is a long-winded way of saying, while the shit hits the fan in the world around me, I am in the lucky position to be able to feather this nest I live in and control the things I can control and forgive myself the things I can’t. I once had a therapist tell me to make a list of the things I’m grateful for, and I scoffed at the time. It felt too Hallmarky and corny. Too #grateful. But last night I found myself doing just that, and then right beside it making a list of the things in my life I (strong word) hate. And man, oh man, did it instantly put things in perspective. The grateful list became a to-do list of sorts, offering clear guideposts on the things to foster and spend time on. Things to give a rat’s ass about. Same for the hate list—the things to say no to. Things to work on and purge. Set down in words, it looked so easy. Do this and don’t do that.

So, now I have a mission. Here’s hoping.