Me and No Fucks
Transitioning Through The In-between
Transitioning Through The Inbetween
Have you ever had one of those days when it feels like all the energy has been drained from your body? Silence feels loud, and noise feels violent. Your thoughts are in control and thinking you. Trying to focus on a single idea is like trying to look directly at the black spot that shifts mysteriously in your vision when you feel a little disoriented. A weight crushes your ribs and it feels like you woke up one morning only to find an uninvited guest has moved in, inhabiting you and taking up too much room in your cavity. This guest is moody as fuck.
Misery loves company.
This is how I feel today, and yesterday. On reflection, it's been a little while. Sensory overload and heaviness can inhabit us all; and when it does, detachment, ambivalence and self-preservation are the only forms of respite. When my cup is empty and when I feel like I have no positive contributions to share with the world, I hibernate and become inaccessible. It is the only way I know how to get to the other side.
The Anatomy of Apathy
So first of all, this feeling isn't new. This particular horse has been truly broken in at the No Fucks Rodeo. This time, the descension into my being has been a slow creep; I didn't just wake up like this. The tap has been dripping consistently for a couple of weeks and now my sink is having to use the overflow. It is very different to the feeling of having the plug suddenly pulled out from under your feet, and you feel yourself spiralling down the drain.
If your spirit was a vibrant scene, alive and joyful, apathy would slowly drain it of its colour, leaving it grey-washed and withered. Apathy can begin as background noise, like a static on the edge of your consciousness; you're aware of the low hum but you ignore it, saying you'll make a GP appointment next week. Suddenly the static noise is so loud you can't hear yourself think.
The Root Causes
When No Fucks moves in, it usually brings luggage packed with one of three things:
01 Assholes
The impact of being let down by others can shake us to the core. As humans we thrive on connection, feeling seen and being understood. When we invest in relationships we intentionally want to grow, and the other party displays behaviours or thought processes that don't align with our values or belief systems, it's hard not to feel like we've either been taken for a mug, or we've mugged ourselves off.
Trust opens us up to being vulnerable. When we are painting a picture of the future with someone else, it's a shared vision, and our growth on that journey to realising it is intertwined with their growth. Then comes that moment when you realise the other person holding the paintbrush has drawn over the dog you painted in the window with a cat. You hate cats. When someone paints over your contributions to a shared vision without consulting you, it feels like betrayal, like a violation.
The emotional fallout can be immediate - a lightning bolt of shock, disbelief, anger to sadness. Or it can be a slow creep: an ebbing current of denial and disillusionment; a nagging stream of "I told you so's" from your inner protector. Once this slow creep of denial fortifies into acceptance, your fortressed castle drops its portcullis, you pull up your drawbridge and you deepen your moat.
02 The Mountain of Mundane
When the accumulation of mundane tasks and responsibilities pile up like a mountainous landfill, stinking and protected behind its own "hazardous, do not enter sign" you know you've fucked up. For fucks sake, you've not even written down all the things you know you need to do. And when the mere thought of writing down the things makes you want to physically throw up, it's time for an intervention. That's when No Fucks arrives - not as an enemy, but as a protector from internal combustion.
03 The Hope Drain
Shudder. Probably the worst feeling in the world. Feeling a lack of hope and being devoid of optimism is like transitioning from enjoying the contrast of a rainy day when you feel cosy and safe at home, whilst the storms wreak havoc outside. The raindrops on the window feel cathartic and you can romanticise the grey skies whilst you slip into a moment of melancholy. One week later when you realise you're in the height of British summer and the sun showing up is a "now or never" situation. The grey skies and damp air suddenly feels like prison; pissing on all the plans you made to feel the sun kiss your cheeks whilst you shared laughs with your friends at sundown.
The Inbetween
[*A flickering neon sign cuts through the dusk. DINER, it promises. Or perhaps threatens.*]
Imagine going on a road trip and breaking down in a small, dusty town. It's dusk and you see a flickering Diner sign. You pull up past some tumbleweed into a parking-lot of an orange-tinted diner, the kind you've seen depicted in many horror movies. It looks like a scene that Midjourney creates by default. Everyone sitting around you looks like they have been born of incest, with no strangers having passed through the town in a hundred years.
The old, round cheeked waitress has an apron and wants to keep giving you refills of coffee you didn't ask for. There's a sheriff sitting at the counter eating apple pie. A young, scruffy child is being disruptive, running around the diner whilst the mother stares into the distance, oblivious to the boy's antics. The air is thick and ominous, and you don't know who to trust that won't lure you into their basement.
As you sit there, sipping the bitter, bitter coffee, you start to notice that each patron is a character in their own right, symbolising the various aspects of your psyche during this transition period. The Sheriff represents the part of you seeking order, clinging to familiar comforts amidst the chaos. The child is your anxiety, a constant disruptive buzz of distraction and the mother is Apathy herself - avoidant, a ghost numb to her surroundings.
And there, in the corner booth, sits No Fucks, raising a coffee cup in silent acknowledgment.
Adapt and Rebuild
Resilience. A word that doesn't carry enough respect in my opinion. What comes to mind when you think of that word? A bridge that carries tonnes of weight and protects the travellers on their journey? A tree that is tested by the most violent storm yet sheds some branches only to grow anew?
Why not think of yourself? Humans are the best exemplification of resilience.
We break and we rebuild. Daily. Each disappointment, betrayal, crack in your foundations serves to highlight a part of ourselves that we need to pay attention to. They serve to help us understand ourselves and our boundaries.
Consider the Sheriff at the counter, methodically cutting his pie into perfect triangles. He's the part of you that needs order, that wants to rebuild trust through systems and processes. The round-cheeked waitress with her relentless refills represents our persistent need to nurture ourselves, even when we say "no thanks, that's enough."
Rebuilding trust in existing relationships is like trying to renovate that creepy diner - tricky and full of surprises behind every wall. We need to investigate the criteria behind our boundaries. Have they been placed there to serve and protect us? Have they been built out of fear? Are they there to filter out people and experiences that don't share the values we want to live by?
Leaving The Inbetween
There comes a point when the fluorescent lights stop buzzing so loud. The coffee starts to taste less bitter. You begin to understand that every moment spent in this eerie diner is an opportunity to explore deeper truths about yourself and what you want.
You take out your notebook (there's always a notebook in diners like this) and start asking yourself:
Why do these feelings of disappointment and betrayal hurt so deeply?
What were the expectations you had that weren't met?
How has the disappointment made you feel about yourself?
What about your current situation makes you feel so powerless?
What promises have you convinced yourself you need?
The answers to these questions are within you, being reflected back by the faces of the bizarre diner patrons who are really just reflections of your inner subconscious. These visitors in our minds might be unwelcome, and sometimes unnoticed. But when you do notice them, create a mock dialogue between you and them.
"Why are you here?" you should ask.
"To remind you," No Fucks will reply, raising that coffee cup one last time, "that not all battles are worth your spirit."
You took a leap of faith walking into the Diner. You were driven by a fundamental human need to be helped and supported by others - often strangers. Deep down you knew that continuing to drive on your own with the flat tire would breach the intrinsic need to be vulnerable. If you hadn't stopped you wouldn't have met the visitors inhabiting your mind.
As the night deepens, you start to feel a shift in your energy. The initial fear and discomfort starts to lift. You're not sure what lies ahead, and if the tire will hold, but you feel more confident now that you understand that the stopover, however unsettling, was necessary.
And so, you pay your bill, welcome a nod from the Sheriff, and thank the round-cheeked waitress for the relentless refills. You step out into the cooler, cleaner night air feeling the grit of the road beneath your feet as you walk back to the car. Your senses feel more alert and the flickering hum of the Diner sign provides comfort in the quiet night.
As you drive away you look back in your rear view mirror at the diner becoming smaller in the distance - a lingering reminder of the strange, but transformative power of The Inbetween. Not only did you survive it, but you learned from it, growing in wisdom, awareness and self-understanding.
Next time you will know it's okay to dwell here for a while because just like every traveller who was coerced into the Diner because of a flat tire, you know you will find your way out, not despite your time spent there, but because of it.
Thank you No Fucks.
Share your own journey through The Inbetween in the comments. When was the last time No Fucks paid you a visit, and what did they teach you?