This is some special kind of exhaustion that is coming from trying to stay positive when life is doing the absolute most. I mean, let’s be honest, sometimes life lately isn’t just hard. It often feels impossible to stay positive when everything around you feels like it’s falling apart. Not just in my world, but the entire world! Meanwhile in my world….
In a span of two days, the car was hit while parked causing $5k in damage. I was already dropped for putting in a claim with my former carrier because an uninsured motorist Doordash driver tried to kill me by broadsiding and totaling the last car. (for which the insurance company gave half of the replacement value!) Please keep in mind NJ has the highest car insurance and that my coverage included UNINSURED MOTORISTS. Also, keep in mind that I have a perfect driving record. Forty-seven years of driving and NOT ONE moving violation. Also keep in mind, I had six other policies with this carrier. They dropped one after I was burglarized! So, sure penalize the victim who has been paying you premiums for years! Don’t get me started on the criminal enterprise that is insurance or why I brought a car from Los Angeles to the suburbs of NJ, and the insurance went up $1000 a year. Riddle me that s#*t! Anyway, the day before it was confirmed that a sewer pipe collapsed at my property. $12k!
It has been a rough going of late. Not a gentle “learning experience.” And it ain’t some cute little “growth season.” This is a full-blown, no-warning, shit storm of bad news, disappointment, and uncertainty.
And right on cue, someone floats in with, “Just stay positive!”
Oh. Of course. Silly f*#@king me! Why didn’t my ass think of that? Let me just flip the positivity switch. It’s right next to the toaster oven. Apparently, positivity is as simple as deciding to be a Disney character while your life is on fire.
The truth is, staying positive in dark times isn’t about pretending everything is okay. It’s about choosing, moment by moment, not to let the darkness swallow you whole. It’s looking for light when it’s barely visible. Just a damn sliver. How about a tiny flicker? A glimmer?
It’s the small things:
A quiet cup of coffee.
A text from someone who thought of you.
A deep breath that reminds you that you’re still here. (Even if there are moments when you question why!)
Real talk. Sometimes positivity isn’t joy. Sometimes it’s survival.
It’s more like, “Okay… everything is terrible… but let me not completely lose my mind before noon.” It’s negotiating with yourself like, “If we can just get through today without screaming into a pillow, that’s a win.” But, by all means, please feel free to scream into that pillow if you need to! Blow off that steam.
Then try finding microscopic pieces of light, like your coffee didn’t spill. Your knees still work (mostly). You remembered why you walked into the room… eventually.
Sometimes positivity is just lowering the bar to “I didn’t make things worse.” I try not to say, “it could be worse,” because magically it seems to go there!
Real positivity isn’t pretending everything is fine. It’s side-eyeing the chaos and saying, “Alright… you’re not taking me all the way down with you. NOT TODAY.”
Because the light doesn’t always show up as a grand breakthrough. Sometimes it shows up as resilience. Sometimes just getting out of bed represents a victory. Choosing not to quit.
And maybe that’s enough.
Maybe in seasons like this, positivity is less about shining and more about not going dark. It’s feeling overwhelmed, irritated, exhausted, and still choosing not to unpack and live that state permanently. And if all you manage to do today is hold on, that counts. Pat yourself on the back! (Just don’t pull a muscle doing it!)
I’m going to focus on my yard full of beautiful tulips that I thought surely the squirrels had relocated to someone else’s yard! (based on all the holes I found shortly after planting them in the fall! Cute creature my A*#!
If today all you can do is hold it together with caffeine, sarcasm, and a thin thread of hope…
Congratulations.
You didn’t listen to the short lady in Poltergeist, you’ve gone into the light Carol Ann.
And tomorrow, try to do it again!