TGIF :: Between "Fu*k It" & Cautious Intentionality
Weekly Drop #39 || There is magic in the middle.
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I’ve never been much of a long-term planner. Starting in my twenties, I made what I considered good investments in my career, my health, and relationships, trusting everything would work out. This supported a fairly well developed “fuck-it muscle,” making it easy for me to be impulsive with everything from money to affairs of the heart (and admittedly, probably too many decisions made after a drink or two). This got me into a good amount of trouble, especially as the expenses and stresses of home ownership and child rearing increased. Yet, I kept the plates spinning—for years.
When I paused my dimmer of choice, daily “social” drinking in 2017, though I didn’t have a rock bottom to refer to, my life beneath the surface was a mess—I was deep in debt, behind on basic health and wellbeing maintenance, and my relationships were shallow or suffering.
As I continued to live intoxicant-free, the next five years were very deliberate and intentional. While the journey was not all sunshine and rainbows, I got my life in order. ClearLife made it possible for me to stop frivolous spending and get out of debt, catch up on overdue medical care, prioritize healthy habits, and most importantly, rewire most of my relationships.
As a result, life transformed for the better. With 1,000 Hours of Found Time, I even wrote an entire book about the experience between 5-7am most days. My “fuck-it muscle” had definitively atrophied.
Then cancer happened.
Why wait?
After my breast cancer diagnosis (December 2022), surgery (January 2023), and radiation treatment (March 2023) I started living differently. Why wait? became my new mantra. Let’s take the trip! Of course you can have that cozy jacket! Let’s go on that retreat! Let’s get the kids up to the mountains and ski for a few days before school starts! Cancer does that. It reminds us that our time here is finite and we really don’t know how long we have, so many of us just go for it more.
Yet the impulsivity felt disconcertingly familiar. While the boldness helped me launch projects, prioritize time with loved ones, go on the healing journey, even buy and wear the hell out of that dress, it wasn’t really sustainable. Impulsiveness and frivolity comes at a price, eventually.
Oops, we’re not dying.
The experience reminded me of a great lesson I once learned from some fun friends of my late mother.
While living in Los Angeles between undergrad and law school in the late 1990s, I occasionally visited “Uncles Perry Charles” at their opulent home in Long Beach. I had regular runway or in-store gigs as a part-time model back then, sometimes in their area. These were long days that spit me out of stores like Saks Fifth Avenue and Neiman Marcus hungry and dripping with dramatic late 1990s makeup. I’d pick up some flowers and chocolate at the local market on my way to their place for our typical afternoon-into-the-night routine: vodka martinis, light snacks, maybe some cocaine, all on their charming, potted plant-filled patio.
During one of my last visits, I noticed a juicer on the kitchen counter and substantially less booze than usual. “We’re cutting back on the partying,” Charles explained, his manicured eyebrows arched towards his enhanced hairline. “We’ve learned that we are going to live a lot longer than expected. Oops!” he exclaimed with a hunch and neon white smile.
Perry and Charles were diagnosed as HIV+ in the late 1980s. They were told it wouldn’t be long until they died of AIDS, so they chose to party right on into and through the finish line. With some inherited wealth and an appetite for a good time, they’d spent the last seven years living each like it was their last: traveling the world spending money on high end cruises, luxury hotels, designer attire, and fancy cars—all while living on rich restaurant food, vodka and blow.
They’d lived hard, like they were going to die soon anyway, but to their surprise, thanks to emergent medications and treatments for HIV, they’d stayed relatively healthy. As new drugs became available, it eventually became clear that they likely had decades to live. It was clear that their biggest financial and health challenges weren’t related to HIV, but attributable to their hard partying lifestyle.
The last time I visited we sipped sauvignon blanc and ate lightly dressed salads. Perry was trying to smoke less. They laughed and complained about the struggles of getting into shape in their late fifties, the expense of their supplements routine, and the financial mess they’d gotten themselves into, forcing a move and other notable lifestyle changes. Their struggles attributable to their choices to like they were going to die soon—then didn’t—stuck with me.
If We Could Do It Again
On the other end of the spectrum, I have late relatives who lived very careful, frugal lives. They saved all they could, made investments in a long term plan for their retirement, contributed modest but meaningful amounts to each of their four children’s weddings and first home down payments, and gradually purchased land then built a home for their later years. Within a few years of retiring—looking forward to many years of joy and freedom visiting their eight grandchildren around the planet—they both tragically died, one of a heart attack, one from an aggressive cancer.
Had they known they’d pass relatively young, would they have taken that dream trip they never indulged in? Rented the spot in the creative studio to nurture their hobbies? Allowed themselves a regular date night over the years? We’ll never know, but this made an impression on me too.
A Fresh Perspective
About a month ago I met with a new oncologist who made me feel wildly more confident about living a long, cancer-free life (thank you, SM, for the referral!). In his practice, recurrence prevention is informed by innovative testing and medications that can be adjusted based on individual needs. He’s treating my whole system as interdependent with many levers to pull as needed, making me feel like a unique case that can be effectively treated in a range of ways over time, a long time. Since that initial visit, I’ve experienced a deep internal shift, a return to some of the equanimity and sense of thoughtful control that had characterized the first five years of ClearLife. This life is going to be a long one. ❤️🩹
Balancing Conscious Intentionality & Why Wait?
So going into 2024, I have a few intentions. I imagine you might too. I’m still going after my dreams, treating time like the finite gift it is, but also swinging the “fuck it” pendulum back to a bit more balance. I am leaning into a long life ahead of me, so making decisions now to support that life, financially, health-wise, and in all of my relations, feels right.
In addition to or instead of new years resolutions, I invite us all to consider where we fall on the “go for it” vs. cautious intentionality spectrum day to day. How do our choices impact us and our loved ones near and long term? Specifically with our dimmers (spending, work, alcohol, drugs, exercise), how can we be present and enjoy life, sometimes allowing ourselves temporary relief from the discomforts of being human, without indulging in habits that could propel us down a path we may not like the end of? This is not a call for moderation, per se, but rather an increased mindfulness around where we want to sit on the spectrum between cautious intentionality and why wait?
Wishing all balance in these early days of a new, promising, complicated, and opportunity-rich year. May we all relish in our capacity to listen to ourselves at the deepest level, knowing when it’s time to courageously go for it or mindfully pace ourselves.
Love.
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Beautiful piece of writing. Got me thinking as this is something I also struggle with having a long term chronic illness which can take me out ‘before my time’ it ever there was one. Having said that I have 13 years under my belt with the illness and life has been very good to me, in spite of. But there’s that thing of it could be tomorrow that it takes you past the point of no return. So there’s that fine balancing act of living for now and also planning for what if it doesn’t happen for another 20 odd years. So grateful for this perspective.
Ooooh I love this one! I love considering where we are on this spectrum and how it ripples through the other parts of our life. Thank you, Cecily!