The Beauty and the Beast of Optimism

January 7, 2013 | Coleen Patrick

eeyore optimism

Each week I aim for optimism in my posts.

But some weeks I feel like gloomy Eeyore. I doubt the positive message. I feel like a poser, or a Pollyanna. I wonder if you’ll think,

Who is this woman handing me these rose-colored glasses?

Because sometimes behind that optimistic message I feel defeated, frustrated.

These were supposed to be stars and other assorted cut out cookies.

This past week was no exception. There was a moment where I found myself jumping up and down because I was so excited (news for a future post!), and then there was one where I cried tears of frustration.

Now before you write me a prescription, this wasn’t one big massive mood swing (although can’t say I’m immune to those either). This week it was two unrelated things.

And way more frustrating than a crappy batch of cookies.

Enough to make me feel like I suddenly had no business writing about optimism.

Then while perusing the food blogs in my Google reader (never underestimate the power of a pretty picture of monkey bread), I read some posts from a blogger who recently gave birth to her second child. In between posts on yummy confections she updated readers on the ups and downs of getting to know her infant. The sleepless nights, the tricks that work and don’t work, and the worry.

The opening notes to The Beauty and the Beast of Motherhood.

And in her story, I recognized myself and my daughter, how our first night home from the hospital (many, many moons ago) my daughter cried and cried no matter how many times I changed her, fed her, swaddled her, held her. I remember staring at her and thinking (and crying), just tell me what you want.

But we don’t always get the answers. Sometimes after life shifts, or plans derail, it takes time to figure out what works. Eventually I figured out that my daughter loved her swing and white noise. She’d sleep and so would I. Then that would pass and there would be something new and equally exhausting to figure out.

My daughter, the gift. She also inspired me to write songs with lyrics like, Please go to sleep.

And as I thought about the new baby posts and the super cute photos of this tiny new baby girl and her mother’s face glowing with happy exhaustion, I remembered the joy. Eventually, light seeps through. We learn to deal.

It reminded me that my current confusion will pass too. Maybe I haven’t figured it out yet, but at least I know I’ve done it before.

And I hope that by focusing on the light seeping through each week, maybe I can inspire someone else to remember the joy too.

A big thank you to Kristan over at Confessions of a Cookbook Queen and her tiny new daughter. Their story was the one I needed this week to remind me to keep on keeping on.

Oh and just in case you’re wondering, this is what I did with that funky batch of sugar cookies:

Cookie dough truffles.

Where do you turn to get a dose of optimism?

xoxo

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NaNoWriMo Inspiration: Life is for Enjoying

November 5, 2012 | Coleen Patrick

It’s National Novel Writing Month and I’m participating again. It’s so exciting starting a brand new project.

Although, I have to admit, I’ve never juggled this many writing projects at one time. I’m thinking about buying brand new outfits–one for each story. Then I could just change wardrobe when I open a different Word document (I assume my brain will make the transition as well).

Totally makes sense, right?

Even without the new outfits, I’m having fun. This NaNoWriMo quote sums it up for me:

“Thirty days and nights of literary abandon”

national novel writing month

November 1st-30th

Literary abandon. For me that means locking my inner editor in the tool shed outside–and really enjoying the fun of just making something up.

Last year I blogged about my NaNoWriMo inspiration–about how my brother inspired me to not only pursue my writing, but really enjoy my life. The information still applies. 🙂 So here’s that post.

Life is for Enjoying

I first heard about NaNoWriMo five years ago, and used the general principles to write my first middle grade story. I’d been filling notebooks with stories for years, but I did it strictly for the fun of it. But I wanted to do more, and NaNo seemed like the perfect way to launch that spark. So I started writing with more of a purpose. The only person I told at the time (other than my husband) was my brother. I remember him being fascinated by the idea of writing a thousand plus words a day. He was a creative type–he drew, wrote, cooked (even went to culinary school), so he was the perfect person to understand the need to do a writing marathon in a month.

When I finished that first draft, I put it away to read it at a later date with fresh eyes. Then, when the time came to go back to it, I decided I didn’t really want to write. So I went out and got a job, leaving the story behind.

I was afraid. Afraid to read the rough draft. Afraid of what it would mean to move forward with my writing. So I went about life and work without it.

And then a couple of months later, my brother died.

It was sudden–a brain aneurysm. He was 31.

My brother was so funny. He did the best Chewbacca impression ever. He was also incredibly kind. Maybe it’s the sharp finality of death that smooths away the rough edges of a life, but I truly can’t remember him ever being anything but nice to me.

But I think he was hard on himself. He had unrealized dreams. He had physical obstacles, like when he stopped working in restaurants because he couldn’t be on his feet for that many hours (he battled Type 1 diabetes starting from the age of 11). But I think maybe some of his biggest struggles were more internal. He got bogged down by dark moments, the kind that show up to shadow your plans and leave you filled with self-doubt and fear.

I know that fear. I think we all do.

I have one of my brother’s journals. In it there’s the beginnings of a story, some sketches, and some personal notes he wrote to himself. One of those notes stays with me:

“Write damn you! Write! Anything, something, Please!”

My first instinct is to feel sad at that personal plea to his self, but then I realize that goes against what he wrote. Because he didn’t want to get stuck in those paralyzing fears.

In fact the first line in the journal he wrote is: “Life is for enjoying.”

I remember my aunt said at his funeral that she was sad because she couldn’t learn anything more from him and I get that because I would love to know what he would have thought of the LOST finale (our last conversation happened to be about the beginning episodes of season three and the oh so random subject of peanut butter). I also am curious what his thoughts would be regarding Twitter, the Kindle or his take on the whole new world of publishing. I would love to hear his opinion on all of this crazy writing stuff I’ve been pursuing. Plus I wonder if he too would be blogging, putting his writing and drawings out there. Tweeting.

My brother Daniel

But then again I know now, five years later, that I am still learning from him.

I am learning not to be afraid. I am learning not to worry about regret.

And I am learning to enjoy my life, from random peanut butter moments to marathon writing months.

What are you enjoying this week? Are you participating in any of the creative marathons this month? Do you think I need to go shopping to keep my writing projects straight?

Have a great week!

On Luck and My Dorky Teenage Optimism

March 15, 2012 | Coleen Patrick

According to my first diary, this Saturday is Rob Lowe’s birthday.

Apparently on March 17, 1984, I had a lunch of lamb stew and then spent an afternoon flying a kite and swapping scratch and sniff stickers with my sister. Then later I got together with Rob.

Um, via collage.

When it came to crushes and boys I put a lot of emphasis on luck and wishing and okay occasionally praying to certain patron saints in the name of love. I probably would’ve spent my entire St. Patrick’s Day in a clover patch waiting for the Great Four Leaf Clover to arrive if I thought it would help my case.

Yes, St. Patrick’s Day was extra special and extra lucky. It was the one day a year that I owned my freckles and my complete inability to tan. But when I was a young teenager it offered me something even more powerful.

Optimism.

Okay so maybe my diary entries portray me as kind of clueless (and dork-tastic, check out this post if you’re not quite sure), but there’s something to be said for a little positive thinking.

Because gluing your picture alongside your crush (or combing a clover patch) leaves you open for opportunity.

“Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity.”

Like on March 17, 1990.

Preparation: I curled my hair and put on something green.

Opportunity: A frat house St. Patrick’s Day party.

The luck: I met my husband.

No glue or scissors needed

Wishing you a rainbow

For sunlight after showers

Miles and miles of Irish smiles

For golden happy hours

Shamrocks at your doorway

For luck and laughter too,

And a host of friends that never ends

Each day your whole life through

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

What are your thoughts on luck?

Questioning the Power of Positivity

November 28, 2011 | Coleen Patrick

This weekend I watched a bit on a news program that questioned the power of positive thinking.

“If things don’t go well, if you get sick, or if you lose your job, or fall into poverty, it must be your fault because you weren’t sending the right thoughts out into the universe,” said Barbara Ehrenreich, a breast cancer survivor and the author of Bright-Sided: How Positive Thinking Is Undermining America.

According to Ehrenreich, Americans discount reality for “magical thinking,” and she puts her stock in realism, rather than the promotion of positive thinking when it comes to dealing with adversity.

But adversity is a gift, right? We’ve all heard that, but then again some gifts suck.

Remember Ralphie wearing his gift from Aunt Clara in A Christmas Story?

It’s okay to not be okay with what arrives at our doorstep. It’s normal to feel angry, sad or confused. It’s okay to want to cry, even wallow. Our feelings are real, even if you feel like no one else feels the same way.

Ehrenreich mentioned feeling guilty for not feeling the can do positive spirit during her bout with cancer, and she said she was tired of feeling guilty.

And it’s easy to feel guilty if you think you’re supposed to smile over the pain, the depression and the fact that life as you knew it feels over. And even more guilt inducing if you complain only to hear: “I was complaining that I had no shoes till I met a man who had no feet.” (Confucius)

No one should be made to feel guilty about their choice of focus. Your adversity, your choice.

But what is guilt? Could it be something wired in us to perhaps get us to rethink our direction? If we are struggling with our reaction to something, is it because we want to think differently?

There are plenty of people who disagree with Ehrenreich, in fact many say making a plan for hope actually aids in mental healing.

Because there is scientific proof that positivity is helpful. “I think there is a part of attitude that may play a role, and we’re still trying to understand that,” said Dr. Barry Boyd, oncologist and director of nutrition and cancer for the Yale Health System. “Working to build hope and build optimism may, in some individuals, change the biology of their cancer.”

Of course there are experts who disagree. “I think there’s a ton of pressure based on the belief that if they’re positive that they’ll live longer,” said Dr. James Coyne a University of Pennsylvania psychologist. “And then the downside of that is that if they deteriorate and they ultimately die of cancer, that they are somehow left being blamed: If only they had been more positive.”

But positivity is not about denial, but about interpretation. Your feelings are true and you can’t help what you feel, but you can help what you do about those feelings.

Crap happens and no one is immune, but how does staying in the crappy moment of that reality do any good? What is wrong with hope? Why does deciding to focus on the positive equal fantasy?

Positivity isn’t a Pollyanna view. It doesn’t mean ignoring realities or neglecting self-care for good thoughts. There’s a difference between Pollyanna and making a plan for how to live the rest of your life after facing adversity.

Just because you look toward the bright side, doesn’t mean you are blinded from the truth.

I don’t think the power of positive thinking is about living LONGER, it’s about living BETTER.

“Between stimulus and response, there is a space.
In that space lies our freedom and power to choose our response. in fact our response is the only thing we control.
In our response lies our growth and freedom.“
– Viktor E. Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning

But not everyone believes that, and that is their prerogative. Some find value in cynicism, in much the same way some enjoy their Pollyanna glasses.

“One man’s toxic sludge is another man’s potpourri.” How the Grinch stole Christmas (2000)

In fact while looking at the reviews of several popular self-help books I saw plenty of negative ones that read, a lot of glass half full crap.

Cynical, right? But then again, that person not only read that self help book, but took the time to write a review.

Maybe they didn’t find what they were looking for, but still they were looking for something.

In the meantime, positive thinking is there for the taking.

What do you think about the power of positive thinking?