WHAT THE F IS THE EFK PLAYGROUND?
EFK = The Efficiency of Fucking Knowing.
When you hear the word playground, what comes to mind?
Slides? Recess? Screaming kids?
(Your own screaming kid?!)
Let’s be honest—
If you’re not a kid and you don’t have one,
the playground probably doesn’t mean much to you anymore.
But once upon a time?
It meant everything.
↩️ BACK THEN..
When you were overwound,
underwhelmed,
overstimulated,
or just plain vibrating with life—
You didn’t meditate.
You didn’t friggin’ journal.
You ran outside.
You screamed. Climbed. Jumped. Spun.
You moved.
Kids don’t call it nervous system regulation.
Or “energy clearing.”
They call it recess.
But it was always more than that.
It still is.
Play is sacred.
You just grew up and forgot.
FAST FORWARD ⏩
Now You’re a Grown‑Up
Congrats.
Or… condolences.
(Whichever hits.)
Chances are, you don’t visit playgrounds anymore—
Unless you’re a parent.
Or a weirdo.
(Yes judgment. Don’t be that guy.)
Instead of releasing energy, you:
-
Bottle it.
-
Hold it in.
-
Shove it down.
-
Store it like a damn hoarder.
Then you wonder why you feel so stuck.
(Or tired. Or inflamed. Or halfway numb.)
Worse?
You call it normal.
Like burnout is a rite of passage instead of a red flag.
YOU NEED A DAMN PLAYGROUND
A nervous system recess.
A metaphorical jailbreak.
A return to self.
So… we made one.
And then we locked it.
WHY?
Because adults don’t trust joy.
And they sure as hell don’t respect play.
But you need both.
RULES
The EFK Playground Isn’t That Different From a Kid’s One.
There are rules.
Sacred ones.
Not the kind with whistles and hall passes—
The kind that keep you whole.
RULES OF THE EFK PLAYGROUND
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Be yourself. No costume required.
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Be kind. To others and your damn nervous system.
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Move what’s stuck. Shake it. Stretch it. Scream into a pillow.
-
Don’t self‑abandon. If you leave yourself, you can’t play.
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Stop setting yourself on fire. This is a burn‑free zone.
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No performative joy. If you’re sad, say so. We’ll slide together.
-
Leave the gold stars at the gate. This isn’t school.
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Don’t take someone else’s swing. Respect other people’s regulation styles.
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Ask better questions. Especially of yourself.
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You break it? You feel it. That’s called growth, baby.
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Laugh. A lot. Even mid‑crisis. Especially mid‑crisis.
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No fires. Seriously. We will revoke your seesaw privileges.
So Why Did We Lock the Playground?
Because…
We tell kids to be themselves—
but ask adults to write resumes that lie.
We say be real,
but punish authenticity.
We praise productivity,
but pathologize play.
No wonder most people try to skip the messy middle.
To leapfrog the fire and go straight to the freedom.
But here’s the deal:
You can’t fake regulation.
You can’t bypass your biology.
You can’t “positive‑think” your way to wholeness.
You do the real work.
So we locked it..
Not because we’re gatekeeping.
But because if we handed it to you while you were mid‑emotional arson…
You’d burn it down.
By accident.
Or on purpose.
You’ve gotta promise not to set it on fire.
Not even if you’re a little BBQ’d.
If you’re crispy?
-
Grab a glass of water.
-
Take a breath.
-
Pause before you pounce.
Then—when you’re ready—
you can try to unlock it.