ALS TDI announced a new fundraising campaign this week, and I think it’s a great one. Swear2Care asks people to put their money where their foul mouth is by donating a dollar every time they utter a curse word. I’m a sucker for clever taglines, and so I really enjoyed this one: ‘Cuss ALS Research Matters. That’s good stuff.
As an Ambassador for ALS TDI, I joined a call last night to discuss the campaign, among other things. The F bombs were dropping like…well, like any kind of food I try to hold in my hands these days. By the end of the meeting, we all owed the campaign quite a bit of money. And that’s the point. As theSwear2Care website says, ALS triggers a lot of emotions. It’s hard to talk about it without getting heated up, so let’s use this to our advantage.
I love to swear. I think a well-placed F-word, for example, can be just as effective as the impressive sounding vocabulary words I learned in college English. It’s a helpful form of self-expression, and even the experts agree. TIME Magazine printed a story in May 2014 about how swearing can actually be good for you.
“Psychologists at England’s Keele University say cursing is a harmless, creative emotional release that can make you feel stronger, the Daily Mail reports. Basically, they argue that profanity is often used as a coping mechanism and can help us feel more resilient.”
As someone who has had to give up the majority of her former coping mechanisms, I can attest to the truth of the above statement. My language has definitely gotten worse as my body has deteriorated, and I make no apologies for that. Unfortunately I do have a five-year-old, whose hearing is exceptional when she wants it to be (and shockingly unavailable at other times.)
One morning before school this week, Scarlett was having a hard time getting out the door. We do a carpool, and she was being picked up that day, but she refused to come out of the bathroom, insisting that her hair was not ready. Rob threatened, my assistant Marianela cajoled, and I hid in my room listening to it all go down, because I wasn’t dressed yet.
“Your ride is here,” said Rob firmly. “It’s time for you to go to school.”
“Your hair looks beautiful,” said Marianela.
But Scarlett yelled through the closed bathroom door that she was not coming. The carpool mom came to the door, and Scarlett exited the bathroom. She angrily maintained that she wasn’t ready and wouldn’t be leaving. This was when Rob picked her up and moved her towards the door, and my dear, darling daughter sputtered at him furiously, “Are you fucking kidding me?!”
This was a new one, and I sat in my room cringe-laughing, which is a reaction I have perfected since becoming Scarlett’s mother. Or perhaps more specifically since she learned how to talk. The cringe-laugh doesn’t mean you’re proud of what your kid said, it just means you can’t believe that you’re supposed to be the one in control of this tiny trucker, because apparently that’s not working out so well.
Then there was nothing but silence, the door closed, and it appeared that Scarlett, having spoken her mind, was now feeling resilient enough to go to Kindergarten for the day.
So my little lady owes Swear2Care a dollar already, and my guess is she’s not done just yet. Please join all the potty mouthed five-year-olds (she’s not the only one, I swear), and use your bad words to advance ALS research.
This article originally was posted on March 3, 2016 on Sarah Coglianese's blog at www.speed4sarah.com.