Relentless Optimism, Stubborn Positivity and other ideas I don’t subscribe to.

Current world order imposes the rule of positive thinking. What to do if you find yourself an outsider to this cult of optimism?

Nobody likes a Negative Nancy. No wonder! Positive Polly is so much more fun to be around. She’s the one pulling you onto the bright side, always with something to be grateful for, a joke and an inspirational quote ready for any occasion. Objective reality has nothing on her good spirits because even if she can’t change the circumstances, she can choose her attitude. And why would one choose to be angry or mopey? We are all taught to be a bit more like her: optimistic, hopeful, easy-going. And hey, please don’t think I am being sexist, — I’m talking to you, Positive Paul, you blessed s.o.b.!

Well, I am a Negative Nancy. With apologies to all the lovely people in my life who still choose to keep me around. People think I’m joking when I say that I’ve always been old. Truth is, I don’t have an inner child; on the contrary, I had to carry my inner adult all through my childhood, until it was socially acceptable for us to merge. Nobody told me that not taking life seriously was an option. According to another one of my Mom’s funny stories that make my skin crawl, my kindergarten teachers gave me a nickname ‘Little Granny’. That, before I could even remember myself!.

I admit, my outlook does make my life harder. I admire my friends who have it in them to turn a horrible situation into a joke, while I cry inconsolably or spit rage in all directions. In my twenties, it never really occurred to me that we all process reality in totally different ways. When you are busy being Miss Popular it feels like the whole world breathes in sync with you. Now that chasing boys is no longer a priority, I have a lot of free time to ponder: why is it that some of us can easily brush off an uncomfortable interaction, while others spend days agonising over it? Why some are happy living in their cosy little bubbles of denial, while others carry the weight of the world on their shoulders? Why do some people always seem to have a reason to smile, while others — a reason to cry?.

I am a cryer. I managed to find something to tear up about in every single movie that I’ve ever watched. I cry when I see homeless people and homeless animals; when I think about the fates of refugees, the greed of corporations, the indifference of governments; when I watch our planet die. This paragraph can go on. There aren’t many people with whom I can have a genuine conversation about the state of the world and the future, because those who know me get exhausted by my apocalyptic tirades, and those who don’t — scared away by them. When my friends are having babies and planning for their futures as if they live in some sort of vacuum where life will always be the same, where all the disasters, collapses, wars and revolutions will forever be happening on TV to someone else, — what help is my existential dread to them?

I am not a doomsday prepper in the ‘thousand cans of tuna in the basement’ kind of way. But I most definitely am one, mentally speaking. The way I see the rest of this century unfolding informs a lot of the choices I make in my present (let’s just say, for someone with my view on the future of humanity, getting a mortgage is really not a priority). It might come as a shocker, but despite all that, my life is far from doom and gloom. It’s actually mostly filled with love and creativity; I have full freedom of movement and decision making. I consider myself happy.

Which is why I don’t think that my negative thinking tendency is some sort of malaise that needs to be cured. This is how I’m wired and it would be near impossible to change something so fundamental about myself at this point in my life. And yet, I am constantly reminded that I must try. The wellness propaganda is adamant about purging all those negative thoughts from your head, and all those negative people from your life, — just like toxins from your liver. (Don’t let toxic people steal your positivity!) Why does wellness, — and happiness for that matter, — have to be measured by positivity? Who came up with this hierarchy of outlooks? Why every time I express anything from the realistic-to-negative spectrum, I have to be challenged and cheered up? Whenever I say that something is bad, why people invariably feel compelled to say ‘yes, but…’?

Here is a piece of advice for all my Positive Pauls and Pollys: next time you feel like inflicting your positivity on the world, spare five bucks for an animal shelter or buy your local vagrant a sandwich. Let me and the rest of the Negative Nancys be.