Since last June, I took great pleasure in using really vile language. Not (only) curse words per se, but also combinations thereof and with other less vulgar words to expostulate all my anger and disdain. At first, it was very entertaining to see just what depths of depravity I could reach. But I eventually realized a few things. First, the practice seemed to fuel whatever negative feeling might have prompted it. This meant that I was angrier, more cynical and more scornful, and for longer – until those were pretty much my default modes of being. Also, no matter how original and elaborate the insult, it inevitably stopped short of satisfactorily expressing my constantly worsening feelings. And regardless of how colourful I’d try to be, I was still moving within certain confines of “genre” and tone.
This is why in 2016 I decided to set up a “swear jar”, where I’d pay a non-negligible amount of money every time I swore. I don’t mean to deny the cathartic value of swearing when required (which is why I haven’t instituted a blanket ban on it, I just have to make sure I really, really value the occasion 😉 ). And since I’ve cut down on the cussing, I notice that I’m a lot calmer and more positive. Perhaps most interestingly, I find it a lot easier to express myself eloquently and in a manner I deem accurate.