Hope Contagium

A therapy journal of self-obsession, depression and meaning.

Tag: optimism

All This Optimism

I’m gonna take another shot at this “happy moments” thing. Today I’m a bit more positive and I’ll try to focus on glorious moments or small victories. Like the time my little sis was crying because she felt stupid about erasing a game she had been playing with Mama. I was a master in comfort! First, I reminded her that everybody does stupid things and that those stupidities teach us lessons. Then I distracted her guilt and sadness by telling her a story about when felt really stupid. She stopped crying and it was easy-peasy over with! Oh, did I mention that my first step was to pick her up and give her a hug? What a good job. I’m gloating because I usually have an anxiety towards physical touch and a very hard time accepting my little sisters sadness – something I’ve always been ashamed of.
Another proud moment was when I picked up seven children, one by one, and lifted them over the fence so that they could get a good look at the passing by tractor. Even the fat kid got a couple of turns – and let’s face it: I don’t got a lot of muscle. I was so good with these kids. I took them on adventures in the playground, they learned from me and I always included everyone of them.
How about the time I took a five-year-old and her father home in the middle of the night? They were strangers and the father was inappropriately drunk and made disgusting sexual gestures towards me. But this little girl was sleeping on the cold floor of the central station and I couldn’t have it. I held little Nou-Nou in my arms all the way home so she could sleep comfortably, I gave them a bed to sleep in and food in the morning. Yes, I thought they were homeless when they weren’t, but nonetheless it was a beautiful gesture. Let’s not forget that it’s only thanks to Levin the gesture became a reality!
But hold on – when have I been happy and not just done good? When did I do good for myself?
Well, I like myself when I finish a book, then I feel I’ve done well. The time I worked in Urban Outfitters AND worked as a dresser at fashion week was pretty impressive (considering my depressive state).
So sitting here thinking, being positive, makes me realize:
“Okay, so good things do happen and quite a few of them.”
They’re just so darn invisible in all this darkness. Remember your dreams Marmaladescreams, your real dreams. They are beautiful. And all this optimism is thanks to my new contact person Zenia.

Disgusting Optimism

In reality I do want sympathy and I, especially, want recognition from old friends. I want them to acknowledge that I have lived in misery. Instead it has all been ignored. ….I don’t give my little sister sympathy. But I must, because I never got it as a child. Not sympathy, not recognition. Today I had my weekly meeting with my contact person. He is a male nurse named Asger assigned to me by the psychological unit in my region. After my meeting with Asger I felt completely drained. Drained – and then recharged.
“Very good. Let’s try to talk it all through thoroughly. Have a safe trip home. Try to look up and see which color the sky has. See you later. Kind regards Asger,” he wrote to me as I left the building where we had just talked. I looked up and there was not one single cloud visible on the sky above. It was this years first summer day. On my way home in the bus I admire nature’s beauty and tell myself: “It’s just the sun, girl! The sun makes you see everything in pretty colors and makes you believe that the world is beautiful!” Good, I think. Realism. Repress that disgusting optimism.

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