The Power of the F*ck It: The Unexpected Wisdom of Midlife

There was a brief moment when the phones stopped ringing. My coworkers' voices faded into the office background.
It was just me, a computer screen, and a stiff rolling office chair.

I swished from side to side, staring at the screen without actually seeing it. Inside, my mind was seething with anger. Yelling at me:
What the F are you doing here?
Why are you wasting your life in this sh*tty job?
You've just been told you have multiple sclerosis. A degenerative neurological condition with no known cure.

I was 26 years old. My neurologist warned me, "You'll be needing a cane to walk in three months." I felt betrayed, like my life was over before it had even begun.

From the fires inside, a new question flickered. Where would you like to be? Instantly, I had an answer. China.
I want to go to China. I want to walk on the Great Wall while I still can.

What came next was: F*ck it. Go to China.

That day, I found a job teaching English. A month later, I was living in China. I knew no one in China. I didn’t even know how to say, “ni hao” (hello). That didn’t scare me. Multiple sclerosis itself and the possibility of losing my ability to walk terrified me.

The f*ck it list

I didn’t know it then, but this decision-making process, the F*ck It list, would become a compass I'd swear by for the next 25 years. Over the next 25 years, I made some unusual choices. Some of them were miraculous while others had me falling flat on my face (literally).

MS fundamentally changed my relationship with fear and failure. I was already living the thing I feared most.

Now, at age 51, and decades of decisions made, I find myself returning to the F*ck It list but for very different reasons. The F*ck It has gone from external adventures (MSadventures) to an internal pilot light for staying true to myself. I consult it daily: for instance, deciding who I want to spend time with, or whether I really want to go to that public event or would rather just stay home and rest.

New changes, new questions

I started asking a new question when I began noticing some unusual changes in my body: unexpected weight gain, night sweats, and a frozen shoulder. Was this multiple sclerosis or perimenopause? This question sent me into the research on perimenopause and multiple sclerosis.

What I learned shocked me. I'd always thought that perimenopause and menopause were simply a hormonal transition. But according to neuroscientist and women’s brain health specialist Dr. Lisa Mosconi, “it's a systemic restructuring of the brain.”

I had to investigate further

I watched Dr. Mosconi’s TED Talk, read her book The Menopause Brain, and listened to numerous interviews. Her work changed my perspective. She sees perimenopause and menopause as “a second puberty for the brain.” It’s a total brain system overhaul.

Somewhere along the way, I realized my F*ck It had quietly evolved. At 26, it was an act of rebellion against a diagnosis that had stolen my sense of certainty. Now it had become something gentler but no less powerful: an act of loyalty to myself.

Looking at the lives of my friends in midlife, I noticed many of us were experiencing upheavals that echoed adolescence. The details were different, but the patterns felt familiar: relationship breakups, sleep cycle changes, emotional irregularity—even changes in body odor.

It got me thinking that I'd been looking at menopause in a very narrow and limited way. When people hear the word "menopause," they often think of inevitable decline, endings, loss, and invisibility. When they hear "second puberty," they imagine possibility, reinvention, and a new beginning.

We're not breaking down, we're rebuilding

We don't call thirteen-year-olds "past their prime." We understand they're in transition. Their brains are rewiring. Their hormones are surging. Their identities are shifting.

So why do we treat women in midlife as though they're breaking down instead of rebuilding? Perhaps this is a time when we edit our lives into a second draft, using decades of lived experience.

The first puberty was about becoming someone; our second puberty is about truly becoming ourselves. We say F*ck it, stop spending energy trying to please everyone, and become more protective of our own inner peace.

The power of the F*ck It isn't about giving up or giving in. It's about editing, curating, and choosing wisely.
At 26, I said "F*ck it" because I was terrified and angry.

Today, I still say "F*ck it."
Only now, I say it with the quiet confidence that comes from knowing myself.
The first F*ck It changed my geography.
This one changed my boundaries.