What is a pessimist? Is it someone who always thinks the worst is going to happen? Is it someone who appears not to believe in themselves? Is it someone who always says defeatist things? Is it anything else? I’m sure there’s more.
I’m not sure I believe that pessimism really exists—at least, not at the level of personality. I’ve had a big struggle with depression in the last few years. There were times when I was ready to give it all up because I didn’t think I could handle the pain any more. But inside that, I think I always had a glimmer of hope.
I remember being certain I was no good to anyone. I felt like I had no talent, or even if I did, no one appreciated it, and even if they appreciated it, they were wrong. They were misguided and fools if they saw anything in me.
I desperately wanted to be seen as having something of worth. My problem was that if I wasn’t a figure with the stature of a Nobel peace prize winner, then I had failed and was worthless. I knew this was unrealistic, and I still couldn’t shake it.
Yet, even with all that pessimism; even with setting utterly impossible goals so that I could be sure to fail no matter how good I was; even so, I think that I had a secret inner optimist. I mean, I really wanted to do the impossible even though I was incapable of it. I wanted to be a wise person who helped people. I wanted to be published in major media markets. I secretly believed these things were possible.
Why? Because somehow they gave me hope. These ideas; these hopes somehow gave me hope even though I knew I was a failure and could not reach them no matter what I did.
When I was able to let go of the absolute need to do those things in order to feel like I was a success, I think the optimist in me was able to start reaching for the surface of my conscious awareness. It was there all the time, but it was drowning beneath mental quick sand.
Maybe it’s not true, but I believe everyone is an optimist. I hang out with a lot of depressed people—people who have all been in the hospital for mental illness; people who have all thought too much about suicide and who several have actually tried.
When we are together in that room, something happens. When we’re with people who understand, I guess, we stop having to pretend to be happy people. We stop having to feel like we need to meet other people’s expectations. We don’t have to fight being Debbie Downer any more. We can talk about what’s going on, and then we can laugh at it, and you know what they say about laughter.
Well, I know that not only is it the best medicine, but it can also save your life. I believe it saved mine. When you let your hair down; when you stop trying to be something you aren’t, you become the thing you are, and inside, you are optimistic. You have to be. You wouldn’t be alive, otherwise.
So I don’t think a lot of stuff about messing with our minds and attitudes and making ourselves believe we are happy or optimistic works for me. I know it works for some people, but not for me. What works for me is to stop pretending; and to feel it is ok to be myself. That relaxes me and lets my optimism start to rise to the surface.