The Swear Jar

1^st January

The challenge begins. I’ve promised myself and my friends I won’t swear for an entire month. On the 1^st of February, I’ll be shouting expletives all over the street, but until then, I have to keep my big mouth shut. ****, this is going to be hard. You don’t realise how much you do something until you make a rule that you can’t. A mate of mine suggested it as a joke. He bet me if I started a swear jar that it’d be overflowing by the end of a week, but I’m determined to prove him wrong. Now that I have to be aware of it, I’m realising I use swear words as punctuation. People always think it’s something bad and rude and filled with rage, but for me, it’s the same as a full stop or an apostrophe. I say them so much it doesn’t even offend anyone anymore, as far as I know. Still, I like a challenge, and I like proving my mates wrong, so here we are. Day one of anything has to be the worst, doesn’t it? It’s bound to get easier from this point onwards.

2^nd January

Day two and I’m just about surviving. I haven’t sworn out loud yet – just inside my head. I think if no one can hear it, it doesn’t really count. That’s what I’m telling myself anyway. That’s probably what alcoholics tell themselves when they’re drinking behind closed doors. I’m starting to see the addictive nature of swearing. But like any other habit, it’s possible to break it. It just takes strong will and the desire to win the bet. I believe I have both of those things. I’ve quit other things before. Cigarettes are meant to be as hard to quit as heroin, so this should be a piece of pie in comparison.

3^rd January

I said the f word in private. In my defence, I dropped a book on my toe. It wasn’t one of those flimsy paperbacks either – it was a Bible sized textbook. It hurt like a ****** ****** Thankfully, no one was around to witness it, so I’ll give myself a by-ball. Unless John finds out I keep a diary and takes the time to read it, he’ll never know. I might know, but you have to go easy on yourself. It’s not easy to quit anything cold turkey.

4^th January

I’m doing pretty well. I’ve started keeping a digital swear jar on my phone, just out of interest. I have to add a pound each time I swear in my head. I’m doing it out of curiosity, just to see how rich I’d be at the end of a normal week, if I were allowed to swear out loud.

5^th January

The digital swear jar is getting pretty full. If it was real money, I’d treat myself to a drink tonight. I know I don’t deserve it though. I might have eliminated the majority of the swear words whenever I’m speaking, but inside my head its like a ******* men’s locker room when they’ve just lost a game.

10^th January

I gave myself a few days off from journaling my every word. It’s tiring and it makes me feel bad. I’m not a journal kind of guy, but I’ve heard that writing things down is the best way to keep track whenever you’re trying to kick a habit. My habit didn’t harm anyone, so I’m not quite sure why I agreed to give it up in the first place. I can’t believe I have three more weeks to go. This is ********

12^th January

I haven’t fallen off the wagon just yet, at least, publicly. I have only sworn aloud for very good reason, namely, whenever I nearly crashed my car and whenever I burnt myself cooking dinner last night. I don’t believe either of these things would have happened had I been allowed to speak freely. I’m starting to understand what it might be like to be grilled using torture methods. John doesn’t know I swore, so it’s all good.

15^th January

I went for a pint with John last night. He claimed I said **** but I actually said “shoot.” I know because I nearly went red saying it. I felt like a seven year-old girl. He caught me out, but I denied it so vehemently that he gave up badgering me about it. I bought him a few pints to sweeten him up and he seemed to forget about the whole incident. Thank ****

20^th January

Ok, so I’m not the most loyal notetaker. But who’s going to hold me to account for it? I’m really only writing to myself anyway. I’m starting to seriously doubt the point of this entire exercise. If something is ******* you off and you spend time dwelling on it, isn’t that just going to make you more ****** off?

22^nd January

I’ve decided not to hang out with John until after the experiment is over. He’s too smug about the whole thing and he keeps accusing me of swearing in passing when I’m sure my language was completely clean. It’s not helpful and I don’t enjoy watching him gloat over pints, so it’ll be goodbye John until the first of February. Yeah, he’s my main drinking buddy, but who can be expected to drink under those conditions? It’s like I’ve practically taken an oath of silence while he gets to say whatever the **** he likes.

23^rd January

This whole thing is killing me. I’ve never thought of myself as having filthy language, but holy ****, this is not fun. I have to police my every word. I can’t even relax in my own home, and what for? No one is listening, but I need to win this bet fair and square. I’ve made a couple of exceptions, but overall, I’ve stuck to the ******* rules.

25^th January

Today was my day off, so I stayed in bed most of the day, chilling out and destressing. I played a few games, got some sleep, ate some junk food. It was a good ******* day. It would have been even better if I’d got to shout **** from the rooftops.

27^th January

I’m nearing the end, and honestly, I’m proud of myself. It’s been a long month. Inside my brain, swear words are swimming around, like piranhas waiting to be released for their dinner. I can’t ******* wait for the 1^st February. I’m going to wait up until midnight just so I can say whatever the **** I like. The neighbours will think I’ve got tourettes, but I don’t give a ****

29^th January

Two days to go, and I know they’ll feel like the longest two days of my life, but I’m nearly there. It would be easier if there was a bigger prize waiting for me at the end than fifty quid, but I’m still proud enough to make sure I win. John’s going to have a bad evening that night, between handing over his fifty and having to listen to me letting loose all night. I’ve barely talked to anyone in days. It’s not enjoyable when you can’t relax. My digital swear jar is filled to the brim. If it was real money, coins would be clinking as they fell onto the kitchen counter by now. But the sound of that fifty being folded up and put in my wallet will be so much sweeter.

31^st January

I’ve almost made it, ****** ******* You won’t want to hear any more from me come tomorrow. I’ll probably never journal again. I didn’t know what a ******* release swearing was until I wasn’t allowed to do it. I’m not addicted to it, but **** it feels good.