STAY COLD.

The Art Of Not giving a Sh*t.

By TSR

Text Message from one of my best friends of 20 years.

Maintaining a sense of coldness and indifference toward unnecessary chaos has been transformative in my life. Women are often conditioned to be warm and accommodating, but the ice in my veins is both intentional and meticulously cultivated. Detachment is about creating boundaries and reclaiming control over where and how we invest our energy. It allows women to step back, assess what truly matters, and prioritize their well-being over the relentless demands of a society that often takes more than it gives. In this way, detachment becomes a form of self-preservation—a tool for navigating a world that frequently seeks to exploit women’s capacity for care. I can’t recall the exact circumstances that prompted me to reach out to my friend, but whatever it was, it had to be significant. This was a man who had left New York City, relocated to Florida, and eventually returned—a journey emblematic of the turbulence in his life. Over the course of a day and a half, I confided in him, unpacking everything that had transpired in my life. Once I had laid it all bare, he responded with a single text. The impact of his words was immediate and visceral—I felt an almost physical chill, like ice coursing through my veins.

In retrospect, it was fitting that such a profound message came from him. His life had been anything but ordinary. He had served 18 years in prison for murder because he was a minor, a consequence of a chain of events set in motion by his father’s tragic demise. His father, involved in drug smuggling, died at an airport from a heart attack triggered by the rupture of one of the drug-laden balloons he had swallowed. That moment of abrupt loss propelled my friend into a life of crime, culminating in his arrest for a homicide in Brooklyn. During his incarceration, he underwent a dramatic transformation, finding faith and embracing Christianity with fervor.

At the time, I was a staunch atheist, and our conversations were often fraught with tension as his newfound religiosity clashed with my worldview. He had become, for lack of a better term, a devout evangelist. Yet, in that one text, I caught a fleeting glimpse of the person he once was, unvarnished and raw. That singular moment catalyzed a shift in my perspective. I abandoned my fixation on trivialities, and in doing so, found my life immeasurably improved.

I made a deliberate choice to stop caring—about people, expectations, and anything that drained my energy without adding value to my life. This wasn’t an act of recklessness or apathy; it was a conscious decision to prioritize my survival. For me, detachment became a tool of empowerment, a way to reclaim my sense of self in a world that often demands too much from women without offering anything in return. There’s something profoundly liberating about living for yourself, free from the weight of worrying about how others perceive you.

My friend once told me, “You have to pray not to care.” While I don’t believe in prayer, his words carried a kind of clarity that resonated deeply. It wasn’t about surrendering or giving up; it was about shifting focus—choosing where to place your energy and where to withhold it. I share this advice with every woman I know who feels overwhelmed by the relentless demands on her time, energy, and emotions. Letting go of the need to care indiscriminately is one of the most powerful acts of self-preservation.

My friend’s own story is a testament to this philosophy. His past is undeniably heavy—defined by tragedy, violence, and infamy. After his father died in a harrowing incident tied to drug smuggling, he fell into a life of crime, culminating in a murder that landed him in prison for 16 years. The world branded him a monster, his name plastered across headlines as a symbol of shame and wrongdoing. For many, the weight of such a past would be unbearable. But as he once told me, “Caring is a luxury—not everyone has the time or capacity for it.” This perspective helped him endure, not by erasing his guilt but by refusing to let it paralyze him.

For women, this perspective holds a unique power. We live in a society that pressures us to be endlessly giving—compassionate, nurturing, and self-sacrificing. We are expected to care deeply and constantly, whether for our families, our partners, or even strangers. But at what cost? Too often, this constant caring erodes our sense of self, leaving us depleted and diminished. To let go of this expectation is not selfish; it is essential for survival.

So how can women assert themselves in a society that is emotionally taxing by design? How do we remain cold-blooded and indifferent to the people—both men and women—who seek to harm, manipulate, or undermine us? The answer lies in detachment. Not an absence of emotion, but a deliberate refusal to invest your energy in people or situations that do not serve your well-being.

Detachment is not apathy—it is clarity. It is the realization that your energy is finite, and that to thrive, you must become selective about how you use it. It means setting firm boundaries and rejecting the notion that your worth is tied to your ability to nurture or accommodate others. It is an act of rebellion in a world that seeks to exploit women’s emotional labor.

Learning not to care was transformative for me. It freed me from toxic relationships, helped me let go of trivial anxieties, and gave me the space to focus on what truly mattered. For my friend, detachment allowed him to carry the weight of his past without being consumed by it. For other women, it can be a means of liberation—freedom from the invisible chains of expectation and the constant theft of their time and energy.

We are taught to see detachment as cold or unfeminine, but in reality, it is an act of strength. To care is to give a part of yourself, and not everyone or everything is worthy of that gift. Women must learn to wield their indifference as a tool of self-protection, shielding themselves from harm while carving a path to their own empowerment.

In the end, detachment isn’t about abandoning emotions—it’s about survival. It’s about reclaiming autonomy, finding clarity, and living life on your own terms.