I have this cartoon image of an optimist in my mind. They've got this huge head, it's almost inflated. Their wide, toothy grin is five sizes too big, taking up space that should be reserved for cheeks or the chin. Their eyes are glassy, and they're always facing the wrong direction. Does their optimism come from willful ignorance? My mental image seems to think so.
Imagine my surprise at being called an optimist.
And it was surprise. Real surprise. Head-flinching, face-contorting, posture-shifting surprise. I think the words, "What did you call me?" dropped out of my mouth, italics and all.
Alas, no, I heard correctly.
A cursory glance through the (sparse) posts on this blog paints a conflicting picture of my mental outlook. I tend not to post unless I'm feeling a strong emotion -- in fact, a strong emotion seems to be the only thing each of my posts from the past 6 or so years has in common with the rest. The full range is there. From I was clearly in a dark place ("Writer's Block," "I Am So Blank"), to I'm upset about politics and am resorting to talking in code ("Nothing's Juicier than Undercooked Steak," "Make the Internet Great Again," "Negligence on the Internet"), to it's New Years and I'm feeling contemplative (literally the only things I've posted in the past two years, but even before that there were a couple), to overwhelmingly cringeworthy optimism ("An Open Letter to my Diary," "Create Yourself").
I know I don't post a lot. I'm not one to recount my weeks or share little tidbits of wisdom I pick up. I'm not one to get preachy about political opinions. Anymore. Every so often I consider sharing a story I wrote when I was in college, but it takes place on the Fourth of July, and I want to post it on the Fourth of July, and I always forget to post it on the Fourth of July.
Shit, I'm rambling.
My point is: I've never considered myself an optimist, because my mental outlook is kind of all over the place. It's dark and upset just as much as it's trying to put a positive spin on things, and when any of those emotions really start to spill over... I write about it. Which doesn't happen a lot. I tend to keep things in check. I don't like gushing about sappy things. (I'm really not sure how "Create Yourself" slipped through that. Seriously, don't read it.)
And then I say things like, "Despite everything, it was a gorgeous summer."
What the hell kind of a happy-go-lucky, semi-motivational, look-on-the-bright-side pile of word vomit is that? People are either dead or insane, we can't leave the country, half of it is on fire, and I'm fixated on nice weather? Bruh.
(Plot twist: it's an I'm upset about politics and am resorting to talking in code post. Sort of. It's a lot of things.)
That's why people tell me I'm an optimist. I talk more than I write, and I only share the dark places when I'm writing. I'm afraid of going there without some big point to make. People appreciate the happy, though, so I can just let that out all willy-nilly.
Good, right?
Nah. How many of you giggled a little bit when I described that cartoon optimist, up there? With the inflated head, glassy eyes, and willful ignorance. That's not just my mental image, that's the world's picture of an optimist. People don't think about Mother Theresa, they think of Mr. Bean.
Maybe I'm saying everything will be alright, or I'm pointing out that there's hope for this or that, or I'm finding something to be happy about. Sure, that's optimistic behavior, but it's a result of anxiety. It's a coping mechanism. It helps keep me calm, it keeps me in check. It probably keeps me from writing more often.
"But JJ, people don't see you that way."
So why does it make me so upset!?
I know a lot of pessimists. You can usually tell somebody's a pessimist by the inflection in their voice when they say, "I'm not a pessimist, I'm a realist." That line makes me want to smack the contacts out of peoples eyes. Erring on the expectation of negativity is not "realism," it's "self-handicapping."
What really hammers it home for me, though, is that if I bring up a positive with them, they'll always deflect it. They'll argue against it. There could be a clear as day upside, but it's not "realistic" to dwell on that. That's as textbook pessimism as my textbook optimism.
I think that when people hear somebody say something optimistic, they assume that person is being idealist or is ignoring the negative, which isn't necessarily true. I think that's why it upsets me. The pessimists I know will deny any positive you try to present them with, and they think that somebody who says optimistic things will do the same to the negatives.
I don't think that's true.
I think it's been the worst year of my life. I've spent huge chunks of it scared, or anxious, or suspicious, or on edge in some way shape or form. I've gotten in arguments with people I love, I haven't seen most of my friends in months, and I was paying a premium to live so close to restaurants that I couldn't go to. I had to cancel a trip I'd been planning for a year. I haven't been on any roller coasters. I haven't had a camera in my hand in ages.
But that doesn't cancel out the good things that happened. It doesn't negate the happy moments. It doesn't invalidate the joys and the opportunities and the successes.
Why is it so hard for people to see the positives and the negatives? Why don't people see the middle ground between optimism and pessimism? No, not realism. The recognition that some things are good and some things are bad, and those things can and do happen at the same time.
That's why it makes me upset, because it isn't true. I'm not an optimist. I just don't let that stop me from saying positive things.
I stand by what I said.
Despite everything, it was a gorgeous summer.
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