Time for ditching things, rather than making my own life harder…

‘Tis the season where people make oft-ridiculous commitments to self-improvement. Yes, I’m talking about the good old new year resolutions. I can see people left, right, and centre vowing to do more gym, eat better, do Dry January – you know the drill. I’ve decided to take a different tack this year. I don’t know about anyone else, but my 2024 has been a bit shit. More than a bit. So instead of heaping yet more pressure on myself to be better, and do better, I’m going to head in the opposite direction. It’s time for the fuck-it list.

I think we’re all big enough and ugly enough now to let go of the concept that having juvenile fun in your middle years is a bad idea

We talk a lot about the midlife ‘coming of age’ here at Silver. Those wonderful, pivotal moments that grace your middle age that used to be called a midlife crisis. I think we’re all big enough and ugly enough now to let go of the concept that having juvenile fun in your middle years is a bad idea. Actually, it’s the best time of your life, in many ways.

Many of the items on the fuck-it list come with the wisdom that age brings you. The joy of letting stuff go. Of not giving a monkey’s what people think of you; living in a permanent state of ‘wearing purple’, if you will.

I’ve been doing a lot of these things already, really. But for posterity, and perhaps to inspire other readers to go “fuck it, I’m not doing that anymore either,” here’s my list.

Dry January

Straight into the sea with this. As if January wasn’t grim enough already.

Not listening to my gut

Ooo a couple of times this year I’ve ignored my gut – one of which was an EXTRAORDINARY tale, which I’ll tell separately another time. But I should have known better, on both counts. I knew what was going on didn’t feel right. Less impulsivity and more listening to my gut instinct.

Poncy food, poor food, stupid diets

Pub Sunday roasts. They genuinely are NEVER as good as the homemade ones. Also restaurants with tiny portions, foams or whispers of things. Didn’t we have enough of this nonsense in the ’80s? No wonder people do cocaine at restaurants. They’d be starving otherwise.

Also faddy diets, which see a lot of action in January. I mean, I’d like to be less fat, but I do also love to eat and drink. So as long as my health isn’t too shabby, let’s eat, drink, and be merry. Especially in January.

Endless TV shows or series

Good grief, Dr Who. I watched the very underwhelming Christmas special and was appalled by its mediocrity. It’s not even scary anymore. Well, not in the way I was hoping for. Also box sets, or really long things – I just never finish them, so I should probably stop trying. Breaking Bad; saw about three episodes. Ripley with Andrew Scott; I literally thought I was going to die of boredom. And I LOVE Andrew Scott. AND Highsmith.

Chasing material things

I never had myself down as someone who was bothered about money, but it turns out I am. I like nice things, and I like to be successful. But over the past few years, the pursuit of these things hasn’t always made me wildly happy – or healthy. If I’m making any kind of resolution this year, it’s to start doing more of the stuff I love, and less of the stuff that is just a means to an end.

I’m not as financially rich as I’d like, but there are more important things in life. I’ve learned that the hard way over the past few years, as people who I loved deeply have died. None of that material stuff matters. It really doesn’t. That thing you hear about people on their deathbeds never saying they wished they’d worked harder? Yeah.

Settling

Settling on work I don’t want to do, giving in to clients’ demands, settling on dates, agreeing to things I don’t like or don’t want. For someone with a big opinion of herself, I can be a terrible people pleaser. I’ve noticed it’s worst when I’m feeling low, so. Keeping an eye out for that.

Letting PRs overrun my inbox

A job-specific fuck-it here, but one I suspect many other editors and journalists will relate to. Blocking/unsubscribing from lazy ‘spray and pray’ PRs who send me press releases that aren’t relevant. Or those who ‘circle back’ the same fucking release to bump it to the top of my inbox, often more than once. If it was interesting in the first place, we’d have picked it up. Leave me the hell alone. My inbox gives me way too much anxiety and this is a big part of the problem.

Heels, bras, tight clothing, things I want to rip off my body in a rage

I’m absolutely done with this shit. I don’t think this is even an ageing thing – we all got used to working in our pyjamas over lockdown, right? I don’t want to wear proper clothes ever again. I’ve also got piles of clothes I never wear – jeans from the ’90s I’ll never get into again, skimpy tops that would show more underboob than midriff these days…

Heels have mentally been the hardest thing to say goodbye to, and I love the way they make my legs look. But I’m so out of practice wearing them, it’s TORTURE to put them on for any length of time. So off with tight things, pinchy things, anything that makes me itch, or struggle to breathe, or walk, hurts my knees or back, makes me end up with red creases in my skin, or blisters… really when you say it like that, it sounds utterly insane, doesn’t it.

Letting stuff go

Life is short, and this is an ongoing practice for me, but more letting go of ‘stuff’. Including the grief around what I might have achieved if I’d had an earlier ADHD diagnosis. That’s been a biggie.

Also in this bracket is forgiving people who have wronged me, without expecting the same in return. The freedom that forgiveness brings is utterly lifechanging. I don’t really hold grudges, but it’s hard not to feel aggrieved about some things that happened in the past. I’m choosing to let those go.

And in the spirit of letting go of things that I feel bad about myself, I’m making amends where I can. I’m also forgiving myself for stupid shit I’ve done in the past. That was then, and this is now. Fuck looking backwards.

Fuck Facebook, and fuck the news on social media

Having looked at the amount of time I spent on it on a daily basis, I’ve deleted the Facebook app off my phone. The fact that I felt uncomfortable doing that, like a junky, tells me all I need to know. Social media generally is also the hotbed for comparison, which truly is the thief of joy. I compare myself and my work with others, and it steals all my joy, makes me feel useless and unsuccessful. Enough of that.

As for the news – I like to know what’s going on in the world, but the endless ‘news’ in social feeds absolutely clutters my head, and makes me depressed a lot of the time. So, a much more measured approach to all this for me this year.

Apologising for who I am

Or diminishing my own worth. Trying to fit in, or be something that I’m not. I do a fair bit of masking, as someone with ADHD, and I’m fed up with it. It’s exhausting trying to be ‘normal’. I’ve found that if I’m honest with my friends, they’re absolutely fine with the person I really am. As the saying goes, ‘those that mind don’t matter, and those that matter don’t mind.’ Take me with my quirks and all.

Going out in the evening

I absolutely LOVE a daytime adventure – lunches, outings, seeing friends. But I like to take to my boudoir early these days, and evening events are taxing. Jamie Lee Curtis, calling out for daytime gigs and parties, once said, “Nothing good happens for me after 9pm” and I hear that. I used to like starting my nights around then, but these days I like them to finish right about there. Then I can get a good night’s kip, sleep off the booze, and come up smiling in the morning.

Dating apps

‘Nuff said. I look occasionally, and am terminally depressed by them. Not going to look anymore, la la la etc.