Irony: It's the Spice of Life

I went through the first twenty-five years or so of my life thinking that I was a pessimist. I doubted whether things that I wanted would actually occur. If something didn't occur, I told myself that I wasn't disappointed, as I hadn't really expected it to happen. I frequently would spout the idea that if you didn't expect much, you were either not disappointed or pleasantly surprised.

Imagine my surprise when I realized I'd been lying to myself.

I'm not a pessimist. Rather, I think I'm a pretty huge optimist. No, in the day to day of life, I might not think that the small things will all arrange themselves perfectly. On a macro scale, though, it's pretty clear from my actions that I'm actually an optimist. Not sure how things will happen? Turns out my actual belief is more along the lines of "it will work out perfectly, and if not perfectly, at least good enough." I have no good explanation for my years of thinking I was a pessimist. I suspect it has something to do with environment and a deep-seated need to protect myself from extreme disappointment. I suffered disappointment or hurt in a tiny thousand ways, and really, I think I just was trying to protect myself. If I could convince myself that I hadn't really thought something would happen, there wasn't a need to be disappointed when it didn't... right? And so perhaps my swing into optimism was brought about after my world really did align in such a way that things in general worked out.

The truth is, though, that this optimism and faith in the universe is probably what has kept me sane. If everything will work out in the end, there's no need to freak out right now. I find myself able to manifest things in a way that I never would have expected. The downside, of course, is that there is disappointment. It was there before, though; I just didn't allow myself to label it as such. I think perhaps it's better this way; I see it and label it, and actually work through it, instead of burying it, insisting that it doesn't matter. Too many things that "didn't matter" in my past find a way to resurge now, and decades-old disappointment is, unsurprisingly, even more difficult to handle.

In November, it feels like everything is about giving thanks. Being grateful. it's come to feel almost trite, in some regards. I am thankful, though, that I actually acknowledge my optimism now. Rose-colored glasses can occasionally fog up, and that's not fun; it's much harder to get light through the very dark glasses.