I’ve been thinking a lot about optimism lately.
I am an optimist. Like… probably annoyingly optimistic.
I tend to believe things are going to work out. I believe there is a solution. I believe I can figure it out. And I believe people can do WAY more than they think they can do.
Give me a ridiculous goal and there is a pretty good chance my first response is going to be, “Why not?” Can I ride my bike across the country? Why not? Can I run this race? Why not? Can I figure out something I have absolutely no idea how to do? Probably. Can someone completely change their life? Absolutely.
I like that about myself.
I’ve read a lot of Simon Sinek over the years, and one of the things that has always connected with me is his view of optimism. It isn’t about pretending everything is great or ignoring when things go wrong. It’s believing there is still something better ahead.
That makes sense to me because optimism isn’t pretending everything is good. Sometimes things suck. Sometimes the plan doesn’t work. Sometimes people disappoint you. Sometimes YOU disappoint you.
The optimism is believing that what is happening right now isn’t necessarily where the story ends.
And I am really good at believing that.
Maybe too good sometimes.
Because somewhere along the way, I realized there is another side to being an optimist that I don’t think I’ve paid enough attention to.
I expect other people to be optimistic too. Not necessarily bubbly, everything-is-amazing optimism. That’s exhausting. I mean believing in possibility.
I can look at someone and see what they’re capable of. I can see a path forward when they can’t see it yet. I can see the thing they could build, the race they could finish, the move they could make, the person they could become.
And then I want them to see it too.
Sometimes I probably believe in people more than they believe in themselves. That sounds like a really nice quality. And sometimes it is.
Sometimes it isn’t.
Because when you can see something so clearly for someone and they decide they can’t do it, that’s hard for me. When someone gives up on themselves before they’ve really tried, I don’t understand it. When somebody chooses fear over possibility, I struggle with it. When I believe something can be worked through and somebody else decides it can’t… I can take that pretty hard.
And relationships aren’t exempt from this.
Friendships. Work relationships. Romantic relationships. Family.
I think sometimes I don’t just see people for exactly where they are. I see where I think they could go. Or where WE could go. I see what something could become.
And because I can see it, I have this bad habit of thinking everyone else can see it too.
Or worse… that they should.
That’s not really fair.
Someone else doesn’t have to want the future I can imagine for them. They don’t have to take the chance. They don’t have to believe something can be fixed. They don’t have to keep going simply because I would.
That’s been a hard one for me.
And there is another version of this that I’m starting to notice more in myself.
I get ahead of myself.
A lot.
Because when my brain decides something is possible, apparently the next logical conclusion is that I should immediately do ALL OF IT.
I can train for this race. And do that ride. And take this trip. And build this project. And work on that other project. And help somebody with their thing. And somehow maintain a normal life at the same time.
Sure. Why not?
Except eventually there is a very obvious answer to “why not?”
Time.
Energy.
Sleep.
Reality.
I’ve definitely overcommitted myself because I’ve been so optimistic about what I could handle. And the frustrating part is that individually, I probably CAN do most of those things.
The problem is believing I can do all of them at the same time.
That’s different.
I’m starting to understand that saying, “I could do this,” doesn’t automatically mean, “I should do this right now.”
Which seems incredibly obvious when I type it.
Apparently it has taken me a while.
I’m working on getting better about that. Being more intentional about what I commit to. Leaving some space. Understanding that deciding not to chase every possibility isn’t giving up. Sometimes it’s what actually gives me enough room to do the things I care about well.
Because here’s the part that might be even harder…
I do the same thing to myself emotionally.
If I believe I can do something, I don’t kinda believe it.
I BELIEVE IT.
I can see the finish line before I’ve started. I can see the trip, the race, the project, the relationship. Whatever it is, I’ve already built some version of the future in my head where this thing works.
Which is fantastic when things are going well.
When they aren’t?
Holy shit.
I can fall HARD.
And I don’t mean, “Well, that didn’t go as planned. Better luck next time.”
I mean questioning everything.
How did I screw this up? Why couldn’t I do this? Why am I struggling with something I was absolutely convinced I could handle? How did we get from THERE to HERE?
For somebody who spends so much time believing the future is bright, I can get remarkably good at convincing myself everything is terrible when reality doesn’t match the future I imagined.
That’s the weird contradiction I’ve been trying to understand.
I don’t think the answer is becoming less optimistic. I definitely don’t want that.
There is too much good that has happened in my life because at some point I looked at something completely unreasonable and thought…
Why not?
I don’t want to lose that guy.
But maybe optimism needs a little room for reality.
Maybe believing I can do something doesn’t mean I always will.
Maybe believing I could do ten things doesn’t mean I need to do all ten of them.
Maybe believing in someone doesn’t mean they owe me the version of themselves I can see.
Maybe believing a relationship can work doesn’t mean two people will make the same choices.
Maybe a goal can matter enormously and still not happen.
And maybe none of those things make the optimism wrong.
That’s probably the part I’m working on.
The future can still be bright even when this particular thing doesn’t work out. There can be another race. Another plan. Another opportunity. Another person. Another version of me.
I don’t have to stop believing.
I just have to get better at letting reality have a vote.
Because optimism shouldn’t mean everything ends exactly the way I pictured it. And it probably shouldn’t mean saying yes to every possible version of the future just because I can imagine it.
Maybe real optimism is believing there will always be more possibilities, which means I don’t have to chase every single one of them right now.
I’m still going to expect a lot from myself. I’m still going to see ridiculous possibilities. I’m still going to believe people are capable of more than they think they are.
And I’m probably still going to get frustrated when somebody tells me they can’t do something that I am absolutely convinced they can.
I’m working on it.
But I’m also trying to remember something else…
Sometimes the future is bright. It just isn’t the future I planned.