I stopped swearing about four years. I can’t remember the exact date but I know that it literally happened overnight. Just like that I went from regularly dropping the ‘F Bomb’ and similar expletive hand grenades to nothing. Nada. Zilch. It was like someone had reprogrammed my brain. I like to think it was God but, whoever or whatever it was, I wasn’t complaining. It was a dirty habit and one I was glad to be rid of.
I literally could not get the words out. Whack my shin off a hard surface. No problem. I would grit my teeth, smile and give a cheery smile. Close down a Word document and forget to save four hours worth of work. Never worry. Life goes on and at least nobody died. I cringed in the presence of others who showered their conversations with cursing. It just felt so uncomfortable. No unnecessary. So wrong. It was part of my past; a past I had no intention of going back to.
I had many bad habits at the time and, in the greater scheme of things, swearing was probably near the lower end of the scale. But I was still proud of my achievement. I was not brought up in a house where cursing was allowed and, to this day, I have never sworn in front of my mother much as I have been tempted to at times. I became one of those annoying reformed alcoholic types. Frowning at those who swore in my company and chastising relatives and friends whose language did not meet my lofty standards.
I was a massive hypocrite of course. Yes I had got to grips with what was coming out of my mouth. Unfortunately the same could not be said for what was going on inside my head. There were still plenty of impure thoughts rattling about which led to equally impure actions. I was akin to a footballer whose team had lost 12-1 but only wanted to talk about the goal he had scored and not the final score. Beneath my sparkling new exterior the creeping rot continued on its inexorable path.
Fast forward a few years and I feel I have finally come to grips with that rot. It is a daily struggle, and I have stumbled many times along the way. There are days I am still tempted. There are days I am ravaged by guilt and self pity but I get through them. My family inspire me. The support I get from the WordPress community is an incredible comfort. My faith, which ebbs and flows, is always there is some form or another. We are tentatively exploring a new church. I have plans. To run marathons and to write a book. There is hope and there is a future.
This blog has been a salvation; a means of expressing myself on social media in a positive and constructive format. But I can never become complacent. For disaster is only one poor decision away. It so easy to slip back to old ways. They can slip like wisps of smoke into your consciousness without you even realising it. An example?The other day I found myself in a stressful situation. Before I even knew it I swore….in French. ‘Merde’ I muttered under my breath. Nobody heard it and I chuckled at the silliness of my utterance. Swearing in French did not count I reasoned with the disapproving voice in my head.
Or did it? Momentary, insignificant lapse or the first step on a slippery slope back to where I started. Every landslide starts with a single rolling stone. That first sip of beer. That first click of a keyboard. That first text message. My French folly taught me an important lesson. I can never relax, never let down my defences. Every day is a battle and every day I must not let my standards lower. I can be proud of where I am and what I have achieved. But that must never become vanity and arrogance. The brink, the pit, the abyss. Call it what you will but I must never go back there.
Whatever the language….
Have you ‘F Bomb’ issues?
What are your worst habits?
How do you fare in the daily battle against temptation and bad habit?