I think, in the long run, that I am what many might call an ‘optimist.’
I can only guess, of course, because to me my world view is not something that I automatically pull out at the first sign of trouble. I do not, when faced with a situation, veer right to Automatic Sunshine and then bounce out the door.
No. What I do, when faced with something upsetting, looks like this:
Upsetting Thing occurs.
Viewing the Upsetting Thing, I melt down, curl up in the fetal position, ponder my miserable existence, and cry. (I may also consume an entire box of cookies at this point; much of that depends on the complex calculus of availability of cookies relative to my willingness to expend the energy to go get the cookies. For example, if I’m really miserable, and the cookies are in the pantry, I might not be able to summon the energy to crawl ten feet to get there.)
At some point, I always quit crying and hyperventilating, because not even a determined person such as myself can keep that up forever. At that point, I do ask myself, “How can I mitigate this Upsetting Thing? I must mitigate the Upsetting Thing, because I cannot tolerate feeling this way one. minute. longer.” (If I run out of cookies, this moment will come that much sooner.)
And then I bring my formidable rationalization skills into play: looking for the pony, as it were. Solutions, too. I’m very good at this part. I call my friends and get their advice. (You know who you are, because your ear is sore. Thank you.) I google the Upsetting Thing. I say a novena to St. Joseph. I call Dad, Interrupted who always, and I mean always, as in ‘he has never failed to make things right,’ makes everything better. I bang my head against the wall for a while. Whatever I think of.
And then, since the Upsetting Thing is being handled, one way or another, I can legitimately feel better and yes, more optimistic.
It’s a system, one I have perfected over fifty-four years of overreacting to everything.
I’m sure that this is a deficiency of mine, this inability to endure feeling worried/upset/frightened for one minute longer than it takes to snort a bag of Chips Ahoy. I know it’s annoying to some that I am so determinedly optimistic, because I get that feedback on a predictable basis. I am given to understand, and this is where I get cranky, that this feedback is founded on the mistaken belief that I never get upset or worried and that I refuse to see things as they really are (i.e. if you’re not upset, you’re not paying attention).
Nothing could be further from the truth. If you believe anything else, please understand that you are mistaken. Or call those friends who have talked me down off the roof. Not see things as they are? Overly optimistic? Hah! The only reason I can smile at all is because I have made a detailed list of everything that can go wrong, and letmetellyouInternet, my imagination is nothing if not fertile and comprehensive, and that Map of Potential Pain is endless, and I have managed to draft a contingency plan for everything on it.
I actually sit around and worry that my list of stuff to worry about and anticipate is not complete enough.
It’s exhausting.
In closing, let me suggest that, if you are one of the people who is detesting me because I’m so freaking sunshine-y, please remember that my Besst of the Day project was meant to combat my natural tendency to focus on the worst things. If I announce that The Besst of the Day was that my gums got scraped, then I’m trying not to think about what has to happen to make periodontal surgery the highlight, and leaving you to infer what on earth that could be. If I posted the Worsst of the Day you would have shot your computer in February.
If after all this you can still find it in your heart to condemn my relentless ‘optimism,’ then for the love of God do something productive and send me some weapons-grade anti-depressants.
© E. Stocking Evans 2014
Mom, Interrupted 