Giving Zero Fucks: The (Not So) Secret Superpower Women Gain As They Age
It really is a thing.
After I turned 40, I started to worry about the general dispassion I began to feel and lack of ability to get worked up over situations in life that really used to really boil my oil.
Now, in the beginning of the year in which I will turn 50, I realized that I have reached a point in my life in which I give zero fucks.
After some examination, I’ve realized that it’s actually a superpower. And it’s something all women cultivate as they age — a combination of both a growing innate feminine wisdom, self-confidence and the increasingly ability to be the source of one’s own happiness.
My giving zero fucks-ness currently manifests itself in two ways.
I don’t worry so much about things I can’t control. My life has reached a certain level of resignation about the world and how it works that is profoundly liberating and provides an exhilaration all its own.
I also don’t give a shit about what anyone thinks of me anymore; in fact, if you think I’m a “crazy bitch,” then I must be doing something right.
If I think you’re acting like an asshole, then you probably are, and I’ll tell you so.
If I have an opinion on something, I’ll let you know what it is, even if — no, especially if — you don’t ask. If you disagree with me, I’ll hear you out politely and then tell you that you’re probably wrong and to kindly fuck off.
I’m not saying that any of this necessarily makes me right or cool or a fun person to be around.
I’ve definitely lost some friends and allies along the way with this attitude, but — you guessed it! — I don’t really care. Because those who still love me, love me hard. They are loyal and they know about the big heart and sensitivity that lie under my fuck-off exterior.
They also know that I’m intelligent and thoughtful, and that most of my opinions are formed by a combination of my deep intuition, a fair amount of research about a topic and some well-cultivated critical-thinking chops.
I’ve also gained some admirers along the way. Sometimes they are people who’ve known me for a long time and are only just finally are beginning to see the real me — limitless and unbound — and understand what makes me click. They can’t help but to have a begrudging respect for it.
Sometimes they are strangers, who witness me using my superpower in a random situation. They recognize a self-confidence and lack of self-consciousness that lights some kind of fire in them, and they want this feeling for themselves.
Why Don’t Women Talk About This More?
If they told every young girl that she would gain a superpower as she neared her 50th birthday, that deep sense of sadness and worry about becoming irrelevant that plagues women as they age might not seem like such a big deal.
Because giving zero fucks is one of the true currencies of a woman as she ages. All of the love and loss, the life experience, the years of trying to be everything everyone else wanted us to be, the self-doubt, tendency toward self-sabotage and lack of confidence start to go out the window.
What emerges is a grand sense of peace and self-assuredness; an ability to say “no” to things that don’t serve us anymore without second-guessing whether it was the right decision; and an instinctual ability to size up people, situations and opportunities and decide whether WE want THEM to be a part of our life rather than wondering if we are the right fit for them.
Even in my early 40s I still felt SO MUCH about everything. I REALLY wanted to find my soulmate and was SO frustrated to be single and dating at this age. I was so GRATEFUL that a guy thought I was still attractive enough to flirt with or date that I didn’t even stop to think if he was good enough for me.
I was SO angry and hurt that my sister still didn’t accept me for who I am and still caused sometimes explosive scenes every time I visited my family in suburban Philadelphia.
I was SO pissed off that my freelance gig cut my pay AGAIN and about how I was worth SO MUCH MORE than being slaves to editors who weren’t NEARLY as intelligent as me.
Shifting Emotional Gears
As I got deeper into my 40s, I realized that things that used to bother me a lot and inspire outbursts of anger or sorrow or frustration just didn’t seem to matter so much.
I noticed this shift around 44, when I finally embraced being single and then days shy of my 45th birthday met an amazing man who is still my partner. It was also around this time that I divested myself of a toxic friend group whose behavior was starting to veer off into a direction that wasn’t healthy for me.
As I started to slowly, and at first unwillingly, make these changes, I realized that I didn’t get so angry and frustrated about the things I couldn’t control.
First I didn’t care if I wasn’t invited to a party where most of my friends would be, and then I started caring less about if my new boyfriend needed to cancel our date that night for some unexpected reason that was out of his or my control.
I rolled with the challenges that freelancing presented and learned how to be more frugal in the times that the work was less frequent and live in abundance when gigs flowed my way freely.
I began to get less wound up about my sister’s complaints that she wished I wasn’t so far away so she had more help on the daily to take care of our aging father.
I realized that while she was making a valid point, it wasn’t on me to make up for years of life choices, and there were some very good and trauma-related reasons that I’d put an ocean between me and my family and moved to Portugal nearly 11 years ago.
I started to find more of my own happiness not by external means or through validation from other people, but within. I started to trust my inner voice and gut instinct more without always looking for someone to approve of me, or seeking a second opinion to know whether something I thought or a decision I was making was right.
Slowly, like a wave building up velocity from a storm far out at sea on its way toward shore, I began to build up my giving zero fucks-ness. I realize that 50 seems to be some kind of milestone in this superpower, and perhaps — as I am some months away from that grand age — its peak of strength is yet to come.
Now that it is nearing full bloom, I hold it tightly, but not too close, knowing that with great power comes great responsibility. Because even if it’s something all women someday possess, it’s still a superpower.
And while this power is limitless, we women are still superheroes, after all. We have to be careful to use our power only for good, and only when it’s absolutely necessary. There’s no reason to let everyone in on our secret if we don’t have to.