I Stopped Giving a Fuck
I have never felt so free
I was on my way to buy groceries when this guy in my neighborhood told me he needed to talk to me.
I raised a brow, a little taken aback. What the hell did he want? I only ever greeted him, and we had nothing to talk about. Hell, I always tried nothing more than small talk with him.
He was one of those Christians who tried to force his beliefs on you. Several years ago, he wanted me to accept Jesus as my lord and personal savior or I would go to hell. Well, I told him to accept Krishna as his lord and personal savior or he would be stuck in Samsara as a freaking mosquito. That was the last time he ever evangelized to me.
I wondered if this guy hadn’t learned his lesson. I mean, what else would he like to talk about other than religion? Or maybe there was something else.
No problem. I would give him the benefit of the doubt. So I did. I told him I was on my way to buy groceries. We would talk when I returned. Yes, I kept my word.
“So what do you want to talk about?” I asked.
“Why don’t you go to church?” he asked with such authority I thought I had misheard him.
“Huh?”
He smiled. “You don’t go to church. Why?”
I paused for a moment, wondering why the fuck I gave him the benefit of the doubt in the first place. “You called me here to ask me this question? Seriously?”
“Yes.”
I watched him silently for a while before bursting into hysterical laughter. I couldn’t tell if this guy was brave or just an idiot. No, really. What was it about me that gave him the impression that I owed him a fucking explanation?
“I have to go,” I said, walking away. “I have things to do.”
“We’ll talk about this later,” he called after me.
“No, we won’t,” I muttered to myself.
And that was it. I forgot about the whole thing and didn’t give a shit. If he should meet me again and tried to continue the conversation, I would just tell him no and walk away without a care in the world.
Seven years ago, this kind of conversation with a religious fanatic would have gone differently. As an agnostic who hated unsolicited proselytization with a passion, these kinds of arguments made me extremely angry. But I did my best to be calm and respectful, although they weren’t showing me any respect.
You see, I come from an overly religious country where about 90% of the population is religious (70% Christians, 15% Muslims, 5% indigenous Ghanaian religions). So yeah, the majority of Ghanaians, especially the Christians, are very judgmental of you when you don’t go to church, or worse, don’t believe in the Christian God.
Ghanaians are notorious for asking you about your religious affiliation when they meet you for the first time. It’s ridiculous. I lost count of the number of times a random stranger who doesn’t even know my name, led the conversation with, “What church do you attend?”
As someone who was afraid of being judged for my religious beliefs, or lack thereof, I often lied anytime I was asked this question.
I usually mentioned the name of a random church just to make them back off and stop asking me stupid questions. After all, whenever I told them the truth, they would get offended. In their eyes, I was no different from the devil.
I was very sensitive back then and cared too much about what people thought of me. So these kinds of conversations often sent bile up my throat. Though I didn’t believe in their opinions, I still let it affect me so damn much.
It took a lot of conscious effort on my part to shed this unhealthy behavior.
It wasn’t until I spoke to that guy in my neighborhood that I realized I had stopped caring about what people thought of me, that their opinions meant a total of jack shit to me.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel my guts twisting when someone demanded that I explain my religious beliefs to them. The old me would have caved, trying to make them understand me, or worse, pretending to be Christian.
Today, however, I have completely run out of fucks. And it doesn’t only apply to my religious beliefs but to every aspect of my life.
In my teens and early twenties, I was a walking bag of trauma, full of pent-up rage at the world. I hated racism, misogyny, homophobia, corrupt politicians, religious fanatics, and just about everything that thrived on subjugation and oppression.
Sure, I still hate these things today. But there’s a big difference. These days, things like these don’t bother me especially when they’re directed at me. I just don’t care anymore.
My mid-twenties heralded a seismic shift in my perception of the world. The change was gradual but incredibly powerful.
I’m 28 now, and I’ve reached a part of my life where the opinions of 99.99999999999999% of the world’s population mean nothing to me. This isn’t even hyperbole. Nor am I trying to be mean. It’s just a fact. And I don’t think much about it.
I used to be a big keyboard warrior on Facebook in my late teens and early twenties. These stupid racists and misogynists always got on my last fucking nerves and my fingers always itched to tell them exactly how ignorant they were.
Their words often got to me, and I hated it. As a woman, I would get offended whenever I heard all the sexist and misogynistic rhetoric from men, and sometimes women. People said racist things about black people or Africans, and as a black African, I would get offended. People said homophobic things about gay people, and as a lesbian, I would be offended.
I got offended and angry by everything. This made me hate everything because all I ever thought of myself was a victim. Eventually, the whole thing started taking a toll on my mental health. The worst part was that I was turning exactly into those kinds of people I hated, albeit in the opposite way. That’s when I knew I had to do something about it. This was no way to live.
The only way to emerge from this chasm of despair I had dug myself into was to stop giving a fuck about things that didn’t matter.
It was not easy at all, you know, dissociating from all the fuckery around. But I tried.
To solve the problem, I had to know what the problem was. And after digging deeper, I found it — I took everything too personally.
Hell, it didn’t even matter if it wasn’t about me specifically, it still stung on a personal level.
If something bad was said about a group or demographic I belonged to, it hit too close to home and I felt like it was specifically referring to me. Like I was the one attacked.
To stop giving a fuck, I had to remind myself every day that I was only an individual. Yes, I may belong to a certain demographic, but it didn’t represent me or vice versa.
Offensive shit said about women, for example, shouldn’t offend me. I know for a fact that I am not a baby-making machine whose sole purpose of existence is to serve men, so why get offended when ignorant people spout such nonsense?
Besides, when people say stupid shit, it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with them. They are sad miserable fucks who only feel better about themselves when they belittle other people. Why give them such power over me by indulging them?
This was the lens through which I started perceiving the world. It took a while, but by the beginning of 2023, I truly stopped giving a fuck.
I know that for a fact because now whenever I go online and see the most ignorant and vilest opinions, I just shake my head, scroll by, and forget about it. Just like that.
Opinions of strangers mean absolutely nothing to me. Unless you’re doing something that harms other people or the environment, I don’t care what you do. I really don’t.
Words are offensive, yes. But they don’t harm me. So no matter what you say about me, I don’t care. Unless you’re defaming me, your ignorant opinions are useless.
I knew I had stopped giving a fuck when I was unbothered by all the homophobic shit people said when the Vice President of the US visited Ghana. Aw, you hate gay people? Yes, and the sun is also a star. Be fucking original.
I knew I had stopped giving a fuck when I was unmoved by all the sexist shit I read online. Oh, you think being an independent woman means I’ll never have a man? Hahaha… don’t threaten me with a good time, my friend.
I knew I had stopped giving a fuck when I simply laughed like a maniac when someone dumber than a rock thought they were better than me because of the color of my skin.
I ran out of fucks. I have none left to give.
I used to be unconditionally selfless. Now, I’m selfish as fuck. Don’t get me wrong, I still love helping people and being there for them, but I only do it now if I’m in the position to do so. If it’s bad for my mental health, I won’t do it.
In the past, I felt guilty if I couldn’t help someone, and would do everything in my power to help them. Not anymore. Other than the fact that people took advantage of my kindness, I also realized that my selflessness was actually rooted in selfishness.
I did stuff for people because I expected they would return the favor someday. It was transactional. Even worse, I was afraid I would burn eternally in hell if I didn’t do enough good deeds. That was the time I was still a hardcore Christian. Fun times.
I don’t do this anymore because I stopped giving a fuck.
I listen to my instincts more. I have my boundaries now and I ensure people respect them. I don’t allow people to sit on my happiness. Nope. I don’t give a fuck. If you’re toxic, I’ll cut you out of my life. I don’t care who you are. And no, I won’t even hate you. Nah, that’s too many fucks given. I just don’t think about you. You don’t exist.
At 28, I’ve learned so much in my life but what I am most proud of is that I have learned to only care about things that truly matter to me. I wish I had done it sooner.
But 28 seems like the perfect time. I am neither too young nor too old. At this age, I know my worth as a human being, value myself, and would not for anything let anyone gaslight me into doing something I don’t want to do.
I used to get annoyed when people nagged me about getting married and having kids. Now, I just don’t give a fuck. But if I want to shut them up once and for all, I ask them how their married life is going for them. Usually, they’re miserable in their own marriages so that shuts them up quickly.
Sometimes, I fear I’m losing my empathy and turning into an asshole since I don’t care about a lot of social issues.
But most days, I know that’s not the case. There are things I care about.
I care about my family, my health, my writing career, and by extension my readers. I care about love, justice, and kindness.
While I do my best to treat people with respect and empathy, I also understand that the world doesn’t owe me any of that.
People’s biased opinions of me say more about them than it says about me. As long as I’m not hurting anyone or the environment, I’ll live my life as I see fit without a care in the world.
I have never felt so liberated ever since I embraced this golden principle in life.
Do you want to attain true freedom in your life? Stop giving a fuck about things that don’t matter. I can’t tell you what those things are. Only you know. It’s your life after all.
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