The problem with being fucked up is: how do you know when you are unfucked up? What is the reference point? Is there a continuum? As compared to what? These are the questions that run through my mind when I read the words “I’m fucked up” or “it’s fucked up.” It seems to me that it would be easy to get caught into the swirl of “fuckedupness”.
The other problem is that we take it on as an identity…”I’m fucked up”. “Pleased to meet you, fucked up, I’m Karen.” When we take on something as an identify, we often hang onto it for dear life. After all, if we aren’t fucked up, then who are we? And, where would we even begin to stop being fucked up? If perfection existed, is fucked up its opposite?
Go Deeper and Assess Your Fuckedupness
So many questions! My proposal is that we start with getting specific. If your usual go-to is “I’m fucked up”, step back and ask yourself what specifically is happening that you are unhappy with or confused about. I happen to like confusion: it means I’m not stuck. It means that I’m looking for answers or options. It gives me a starting point and in a weird way, direction.
A life map can help with getting specific because it identifies the different areas of, you guessed it, life (e.g. family, career, health, etc.) which enables us to focus and become aware. This is the first step in making shifts. We can’t shift/address/change/alter what we aren’t aware of.
Look, we all have moments, including me, when the rug is pulled from beneath us. It feels uncomfortable (maybe even scary,) our breath catches, and we might even start to sweat. We might not know what to do. (So interesting that these same responses can also follow unexpected “good” moments.) The thing is, these responses are okay, they are usual. The wonderfulness of being human includes the sweet spots, and the smelly spots.
Last thought, if perfection and fuckedupness are opposites of an imaged continuum and given that perfection doesn’t exist; I suggest that fuckedupness also doesn’t exist,.
After all this, if you still stand by “fucked up” then we are all fucked up. Every single person. Everywhere. Kind of takes the specialness, or sting, out of it, wouldn’t you agree?