Cautious Optimism

Preserving my spirit for darker days ahead.

Sunday, October 6, 2019

I’ve been debating on whether or not to write tonight; I figured since I am ahead of my work, I might as well. I’ve noticed a shift in my general disposition about the future as of late. I was cautiously optimistic about making something more out of myself. I want to think that I was grounded and being realistic, but lately, I’ve found myself lost in delusions of grandeur. It’s like the barrier that has blocked my highest ambitions has eroded. Now I am dreaming larger than I ever have before. Perhaps this is a set up for my inevitable crash back to earth, but as of now, I am soaring.

Am I catching an updraft with lead wings?

I’m looking at the world through a new lens; I now see potential and opportunity in things that I have brazenly overlooked in the past. I can envision myself exceeding my expectations, which was something that I have struggled with for most of my life. Despite the anxiety associated with this mental shift, I can finally see potential in myself. I neglected to give myself credit for my achievements, always thinking that I should have done more. The more that I think about it, I realize that I have laid a foundation for a fulfilling life. Not only is my current job gratifying, but I am now applying the diverse skills that I have acquired over the last decade. I have been practicing music with an actual band, not just toiling in my room alone, trying to learn songs that some girl I’d been pining after would recognize. I’ve finally started writing again, and that has promoted positivity in the way that I process my thoughts. I feel like I have been gathering materials for ten years, and I’m finally ready to start building my future.

I am the architect of my life; let’s build this damn thing.

 I feel like my depression has been less prominent over the last few months, and I’m not sure what to make of it. My obvious concern is that I am in a perpetual manic state that will eventually descend into a depressive episode. At this point, I can’t help but wonder if I am released from the neurodivergent confines of my chemical imbalance. Either way, I have developed healthy ways to cope, when or if my depression resurfaces. I now recognize the unwavering support of friends and family members that have propped up my fragile ego. I used to fixate on what I didn’t have, which led to disappointment and a sense of inadequacy. I am now learning to appreciate the network of people who’ve been supporting me all along. Maybe this emotional overload is a symptom of some deluge of serotonin that had been dammed up somewhere in my skull. Perhaps this is just supposed to happen when you’re approaching 30. Either way, I hope that I can channel this energy into something productive.

It seems like wishful thinking, but what’s wrong with that?

I still intend to enjoy my old fall routine, as I have learned to do over the years. Watching depressing movies and reading in my comfortable sheets. I am looking forward to the early sunsets and cold nights. Somewhere along the way, I learned to see the beauty in some of the dreariest moments. I revel in those cold winter walks with barren trees and overcast skies. The aesthetic of a dormant city, waiting to spring back to life when sunny days return. I am particularly fond of the warm and inviting atmosphere of an artificially heated home. People gathered indoors to celebrate cheerful occasions, illuminating the rigid darkness outside through chilled glass windows. The enticing smell of baked goods, wafting through the gloomy, frigid air. The weight of my heavy coat as I plunge my arms into the padded, insulated sleeves. Just thinking about it now makes my heart swell. 

Does seasonal affective disorder apply to brutal summers?

I wonder how I will experience fall and winter through my new rose-colored lenses. I find it funny that we use that colloquialism because when you wear rose-colored glasses, your eyes adapt to them, and your vision resembles what it did before putting them on, but with more vibrancy and clarity. When you remove rose-colored lenses after your eyes have adapted, the world looks much bluer and more somber. Isn’t it strange that we encourage optimism and hopefulness, but we reserve this phrase to put down anyone who escapes the confines of our relentlessly restrictive reality? I would rather help people to see the good in things than to see how dark and twisted this world can get.

If you have rose-colored lenses on, keep them on.

Nobody

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