My Word of the Year

(Hint: it does not begin with the letter "F.")

Friends,

Like many of you, I’ve spent the past week watching California burn via Instagram Reels and adding it to the list of travesties happening around the world for which I have no solutions, and which are entirely out of my control. And although I worry that sending out my semi-weekly sassy tips and strategies for living your best life may come across as tone deaf and meaningless in light of everything, I also feel a responsibility to you, my faithful fucklings, who literally signed up for this shit.

And so, onward we march with a quick hit of New Year inspo, NFG-style.

I hope it finds you well—and if not, then I hope it offers a brief distraction, a giggle, and maybe even a guiding principle for 2025 and beyond.

(I’d settle for a giggle. I do love to make you giggle.)

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My word of the year is…

A while back, I noticed a trend where people would select one word as a sort of touchstone for the year ahead. Something like mindful or expansive or curious—a syllable or three to remind and help ground you, day in and day out, in whatever resolutions or goals or challenges you’d set for yourself.

I never tried it, because I never thought a single word was going to make much of a difference in my approach to the year. (I also find it hard to decide on things like this, which is why I don’t have any tattoos.)

THAT SAID: per my previous reporting, 2024 was a real motherfucker, and I confess I did not anticipate that 2025 would open quite so strong in the “hold my beer” department.

Touché, 2025. Touché.

I quickly realized that I was going to need all the help I could get.

In particular, as an already anxiety-prone gal¹ with multiple personal crises on the docket in addition to all the global/existential ones a’ brewin’, I knew I was going to have to double down on a) not caring so goddamn much and b) not reacting so goddamn badly when shit goes sideways.²

So, I followed the herd and got myself a word:

WHATEVER!

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Before I go on, I want to acknowledge that there is a W-I-D-E spectrum of shit that could and will go sideways for each of us this year, and I wouldn’t expect anyone who lost their home in a wildfire or their job to AI or their life savings to a scammer to be able to just shrug it off with a flippant one-word mantra.

If one of these or a similarly devastating scenario is where you find yourself, I am truly sorry, and I know it’s going to take more than a tip from Our Lady of the F Bombs to help you wrap your head around and survive it.

But for the rest of what 2025 has to offer—and again, from my potentially tone deaf and meaningless perspective as a purveyor of sassy self-help strategies—I can tell you that my word?

It’s helping.

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Turns out, a well-played Whatever! has enhanced my ability to emotionally navigate a number of “less-than-ideal” to “pretty-fucking-bad” situations so far this year, and we’re not even two weeks in.

So that’s something!

For example: since last September, my husband and I have been trying to renew our foreign residency here in the Dominican Republic.

Due to a variety of #fails (not our own), the process (if you can call it that) is ongoing, it’s getting more expensive by the day, and when we re-entered the country in January, the Immigration agent on duty decided it would be a good time to CONFISCATE OUR EXISTING RESIDENCY CARDS, which…seems like it might pose a problem when we’re meant to present said cards in person the day we finally get called in to our renewal appointment.

Whatever!, I said to myself, and rolled my luggage right on out of the airport like a motherfucking boss.

Later that same evening, my suitcase broke as I was unpacking it, and if I’m being honest, I didn’t handle that very well.

What can I say? It’s a learning curve.

But in general, training myself to react first with WHATEVER! instead of WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK?!? has proven a useful regulator for my 2025 mood.

Another example: when my stupid trash cat Gladys Knight disappeared earlier this month, I consoled myself with the knowledge that her record is thirty days “on walkabout,” and I recited a robust Whatever! each morning and night that she failed to show up for her bowl of crunchies.

Then lo and behold, after only a week, she returned without my ever having had to shed a premature tear. This was a vast improvement over my emotional state the last time Miss Gladys went missing, so it may be flippant, but it’s working.

A few more recent/ongoing cases in point:

• We’re trying to sell our house (and live our life), and currently the only access road is closed for repairs. Whatever!

• The car has begun emitting a disconcerting clunk from its rear flank. Whatever!

• A piece of IUD remains buried in the muscle of my uterus after I underwent a failed, five-figure surgery to remove it. Whatever!

• You-know-who is about to take office and shred what’s left of the fabric of democracy. Whatever!³

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So there you have it, NFG fans: my first-ever attempt at choosing a single word to guide my actions and reactions for the coming year.

I think it’s going well, all sideways shit considered.

If you have your own word for 2025, I’d love to know what it is and how it’s going for you so far…

(And if you’re considering changing it to one that begins with WHAT and ends with EVER, well then, my work here is done.)

Ciao for now, and stay safe out there,

Sarah

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1. And perimenopausal. Let’s not forget perimenopausal!

2. Yes, I wrote a whole book called Calm the Fuck Down and yes, I still struggle with these issues. Isn’t being human a HOOT?

3. Again, I’m not trying to make light of the worst the world has to offer, but since there’s nothing I can do to stop this particular crazy train going off the rails, I’m just trying to control my emotional response. Grinding out 2025—let alone 2026-28—in the throes of a T***p-induced panic attack is simply not viable. Sadly, I know this from all-too-recent experience.