"The past is strapped to our backs. We do not have to see it; we can always feel it." -Mignon McLaughlin
I’ve been called negative before. A cruel jerk in middle school used to call me Daria. Occasionally I blame my parents for my glass-half-empty outlook, having grown up hearing things like, “If you keep your expectations low, you’ll never be disappointed,” “hope for the best but expect the worst,” and after a hopeful statement, “Don’t jinx it!”
So I have kept my expectations low for a lot of things, and you know what? I’ve still been disappointed. And the disappointments accumulate like a snow drift, piling on top of me, so hard and so heavy that sometimes I can’t breathe. I carry the burden with me like a pack, referencing past heartaches as reasons why I am so pessimistic now. I’m allowed to feel wounded because I am wounded.
So is it better to always hope for the best and expect things to turn out well, even if there’s a good chance they won’t? Is it better to raise up our voices in optimism and shout out what we hope will happen, regardless if fate hears it and then deems it false? I don’t know if happiness and optimism are connected. In my reassembled little heart, they never have been. But I’ve been thinking about beginning my own personal Year of Yes.