Acknowledging the raging animal within.
Fuck it mode is reaching your edge when you’re pinned against the wall; driven nuts with limitations that are beyond your control. Fuck it mode is when at that edge, you give yourself permission to do what you need to do, to say what you need to say for your own sake, for your own sanity, for your own well-being.
It used to be a self-destructive coping mechanism; drugs, sex, food, alcohol- without balance, without wisdom. It was self-annihilation in slow-mo because the pain was too great, the confusion was too profound, the misunderstanding wasn’t a gap but a chasm.
Cornered, gasping for air, fuck it is a survival mechanism that kicks in. Animalistic. Primordial. It throws out the ideal and puts you in touch with the raw, naked, breathing, shaking, hungry, wild, horny animal that is here, on this ground, in this cosmos. What it needs, what it really feels. Untamed without the etiquette of civility being superimposed on it.
The etiquette of being a civil is the task or burden of being human in a dysfunctional, out-of-touch, repressive, oppressive, suppressive society-culture- religion. The modus operandi of which is somehow balancing everything and everyone at your own expense, at the cost of your own sovereignty, sanity and inherent freedom.
Pretend to be something more “presentable” than the raging animal that you are inside, says the world you live in. That’s when fuck it mode becomes destructive because it becomes internalized as ‘bad’. Because the message being received either overtly or covertly from the external world is so.
Tuck away your raging animal in the darkest corner of the farthest room far, far away from our dull gaze because it’s “inappropriate” (you fucking weirdo – is what they want to say). And before you know it, before you get a say, down goes the raging animal in the dark abyss of your subconscious passively dictating your life in the unseen realms of your psyche.
Tuck away your raging animal in the darkest corner of the farthest room far, far away from our dull gaze because it’s “inappropriate” (you fucking weirdo – is what they want to say).
There you are, left fucking miserable, unknowingly self-annihilating (aka addiction), running amok because you’ve learnt that something that exists in you is unacceptable, shame-able even disgusting. Thinking you’re the only one with this raging animal because everyone else seems perfectly regal in their untarnished civility.
Well-adjusted and comfy in their make-believe paradigm of civility, etiquette and appropriateness. You’re left with nothing but echos from the collective reverberating in the seeming shallow emptiness of “your life”. “This is how things are done. What will people say. Have you lost your mind?! “…. and so on.
Acknowledging the raging animal within is the first step to rectifying the wrongness that has been done to this misunderstood holy creature. Which in its innocence believes it’s bad for its natural urges, humanness and inability to cope. Inability to do good, to be good, to act good; to be regal in shit, to sit pretty in the norm.
You’re left with nothing but echos from the collective reverberating in the seeming shallow emptiness of ‘your life’. “This is how things are done. What will people say. Have you lost your mind?!”
It’s misunderstanding is that it itself is wrong. When in fact the opposite is true. The wrongness is in the violent, suppressive world of normal where judgement is used like a personalized and collective weapon to keep everyone in check. To shame everyone who doesn’t comply into their corners of alienation and isolation where they can examine their wrongness and badness of non compliance and hopefully reassess whether going against the norm is ‘worth it’ – coming back to your senses is what they call it. The irony.
But what if the raging animal was, is right. What if fuck it mode even in its reckless, destructive and hopelessly misguided form was actually a failed attempt to reclaim your power, sovereignty and zest for life. Not something to be deemed wrong but something to be recognized, upheld and included as an intelligent, natural, primal, raw, naked truth.
A truth which when suppressed, breeds all kinds of perversions and confusions wreaking havoc. The real “coming back to your senses” is coming back and acknowledging and reckoning with the raging animal who’s been cornered and made wrong for so long. This doesn’t have to be abstract or “out there” but as simple as asking that part of yourself to have a say, including it in small ways at first.
What’s important is its inclusion; acknowledging and honoring the intelligence and righteousness of the raging animal. This raging animal is not crazy. Is not wrong. But actually, sacred. This raging animal is a guide. It is here to help you. For you, to recognize when you need to throw away your fake politeness and get real about what you’re actually feeling. What your truth is. Regardless of what everyone else is doing. Regardless of what it “looks” like.
It’s living in accordance to what’s true for you and the only reason it’s seen as “rebellious” is because it goes against the insidious norm.