Becoming an optimist

Over the years of dealing with depression I've found myself becoming an optimist. But how? My identity is sarcasm not inspirational affirmations.

Pete Carr

Pete Carr

— 5 min read
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A person stands by the railings on a ferry and watches sunset.

Becoming an optimist

Through my depression, I came to understand pessimism. Everything was bad, wrong and leading to a dark future. This is your brain wanting to die. Never EVER listen to it. Talk to people. Friends, found family, the family you trust, or helplines. Talk. I did talk to someone, my GP, who got me to speak with a counsellor. Over weeks we discussed my issues and devised ways to tackle them. Through those sessions, I realised that I was a pessimist.

On the way home after photography commissions, I ran through what happened, and how I felt it went wrong and pictured all the ways I would fail in the future. This would continue through the edit, delivery and days after until I had another job where I would repeat the process. If a client did not respond to an email quickly I would overly think why. Those times when I spoke to someone and said something odd, I’d overthink that and drive myself to depression. “Oh, I can never see them again because they hate me.” Any time my brain had a moment to overthink it would and I ended up in a cycle of depression.

The way counselling teaches you to deal with this is to challenge negative thoughts. Be a Vulcan. Think logically. Question the data. Check the evidence. For example, if I said something odd to someone and was concerned about what would happen when I saw them again, I would ask myself what data I had to support my concern.

  • Have they contacted me to make it clear I said something odd?
  • Are they blocking me?
  • Are they ghosting me?
  • Are others they know acting odd around me?
  • Is there anything to support this idea?

If there’s evidence, then try and deal with that as best you can. But if there is no evidence, if it is your brain overthinking then that’s what you need to deal with. It’s called catastrophising. It leads you to always think the worst in people, your life and the world. This was not who I wanted to be.

At times challenging your brain is hard. You have to do it every time you catch yourself overthinking, and having a brain that does that a lot it can be exhausting. That’s OK. Everything in life is about constant practice to get better bit by bit. Olympic swimmers aren’t dropped in a pool at age 20 to instantly break records. They train, every day, for years to build up the ability to do what they need to, when needed. This is the same. Learn the technique and practice. Sometimes you’ll fail and sometimes you’ll succeed. Keep practicing.

I’ve been doing this for years. I sometimes fail, but I feel more often than not I do succeed. For example, recently someone asked me about a project I was working on. I had no information. They responded with what I perceived to be overthinking. I had no information to support their ideas and was left with two options. Either agree with their hypothesis, validate their idea and cause both of us to feel bad, or believe that everything was fine until I had evidence to the contrary. Now, it is entirely possible that this person is right and this project is doomed to fail. Until then, I can either rage at the world or choose to be hopeful and put that positive energy to use. I may not put that positive energy to use on that project, but I believe that having good mental health will help in daily life.

Now, this is in no way #PositiveVibesOnly toxic positivity.
That way of thinking is ignoring what the data is telling you. I’m trying to teach myself to remember to look at the available data and find a healthy way through. Scientists may speculate on something, but then they test and learn from the results. Until you test an idea, you shouldn’t treat speculation as fact.

I’m having some joint issues in my knees and feet. These issues can’t be smiled away with a belief that everything will work out. Data suggests that they will flare up from time to time. I am dealing with that, but what I’m not doing is letting control my life. Data suggests that certain non-alcoholic beers can cause a flare-up. OK, that’s gone from my life. I can deal with that. This issue may reoccur, but I’m not going to sit around worrying about what may happen when it does. That cannot be my life.

I say all this but last week I wanted to wear my hot pink leggings to a cafe with friends. My bum would have been visible in these tight-fitting leggings, just as many people’s are. That’s just how leggings fit. I enjoy the feel of them and how they shape my legs, which is the part of me I’m most proud of. When it came time to get dressed I opted for a skirt instead. Panic set in. “I can’t walk around with my bum on display! I can’t go to a cafe while people are eating and put my arse at their eye line.” That’s what I told myself. Despite the lack of evidence to support my fear, I listened to it. As I sat in the cafe in my skirt a woman walked past in hot pink leggings and I felt sad for not being as bold as her. Really, what did I have to fear? I wore a skirt instead. A totally “normal” way for a male-bodied person to go unnoticed.

As much as I try and challenge these thoughts, it takes time to move past them. I can move past them. There is evidence to support that now and that gives me hope. It is fascinating to think that my outlook on life is less pessimistic and more optimistic. Recognising these changes is what keeps depression at bay because I am getting mentally healthier, day by day. Sure I’ll just get it figured out as I’m hit by an asteroid, but hey, progress is occurring.

A person in a Parka jacket stands at the end of the ferry looking out over the River Mersey on a miserable day. The ferry appears quite empty.
A person in a Parka jacket stands at the end of the ferry looking out over the River Mersey on a miserable day. The ferry appears quite empty.

Transporter room

Moonrise behind the city of Liverpool from the decks of a Mersey Ferry. The river is a little choppy and it’s a clear night.
Moonrise behind the city of Liverpool from the decks of a Mersey Ferry. The river is a little choppy and it’s a clear night.
A man sits reading the morning newspaper as the Mersey Ferry sails over to Liverpool. The camera is positioned next to a reflective window to reflect the left hand side over to the right. It seems like a set of legs come out the back of the man.
A man sits reading the morning newspaper as the Mersey Ferry sails over to Liverpool. The camera is positioned next to a reflective window to reflect the left hand side over to the right. It seems like a set of legs come out the back of the man.

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