the bullshit “be positive” vs. the realistic “be hopeful” narrative

Santa Monica, Los Angeles

Perhaps it’s done already, perhaps they have said me already, perhaps they have carried me to the threshold of my story, before the door that opens on my story, that would surprise me, if it opens, it will be I, it will be the silence, where I am, I don’t know, I’ll never know, in the silence you don’t know, you must go on, I can’t go on, I’ll go on. –from Samuel Beckett’s The Unnameable

 

Every morning I wake and clean my home. I spray and wipe down the counters and the stove burners. I sweep and vacuum the floors, load the dishwasher, and make my bed, freshen the sheets. Twice a day I shower and wear clothes that are clean and pressed. I spray perfume on my neck and rub moisturizer on my face. On good days, I wear red lipstick. On bad days, I carry Chapstick and apply and reapply until the possibility of gliding over my face becomes a reality. Admittedly, part of this desire to clean and be clean stems from growing up in a home that was unkempt, unclean. It comes from a compulsion based on control, the need to create order where none exists. Then I walk as far as I can go, to the point where a ticker-tape of cars separates me from the ocean, and I’m comforted by limits, a self-imposed pause, and confinement–there are still places I can’t reach yet the cars keep moving. Life goes on.

my fortune foretoldI walk the length of the boardwalk and spend a little money for a machine, featuring a fortune teller named Zoltar, to tell me my fortune. Despair not I say for your days of despair will soon be over. And then this: You have many friends, particularly in the armed forces. I carry this ticket, my fortune foretold, everywhere I go, as if it’s a fakir ready to ferret out the light in what feels like a constant darkness. As if I have a platoon at my disposal, ready to wage war against the past seven months I’ve lived in disquiet. Already, the stub is worn from my hope and handling.

Ours was a generation that was instructed to Don’t Worry, Be Happy. Amidst pestilence, war, economic uncertainty, cultural apathy, and a generation who wanted to pull the covers over our collective heads to escape all the bullshit we were burdened to bear, we were taught to “reframe the narrative”, to turn the beat around, to think happy thoughts and remain on an even keel. Sadness was greeted with the refrain: Be positive! So we wore our masks and whitewashed the story of ourselves that we presented to others. We refused to be a drag, to invite others to stand in our darkness. Being positive doesn’t allow for unsettling thoughts to creep and burrow in. Being positive excises anything that’s malignant in nature, but stand in the light long enough and you’ll end up burned by it. The benign becomes malignant by the sheer act of living a life in a single extreme; our happiness brings forth a kind of inoperable cancer. Breed happiness long enough and you’ll find yourself smothered by the mask you so readily affixed and tightened over your face. Be positive, you’re instructed, even if you can’t breathe. Even if you end up choking on your self-imposed glee and your face remains paralyzed in the shape of a teeth-baring smile.

I think about my simple routines: cleaning house and taking care, and wonder why I bother maintaining something I’ll likely lose. Why do I cart around a stub from a machine that spits out fortune-cookie predictions like it’s some sort of talisman?

Hope.

The very brilliant Rebecca Solnit views hope as a kind of opening in the context of uncertainty. It neither predicates a fairytale ending or doom, rather it allows for space to navigate between the two and move toward something other. Hope accounts for the totality of experience to arrive at a new reality. She writes,

It’s important to say what hope is not: it is not the belief that everything was, is, or will be fine. The evidence is all around us of tremendous suffering and tremendous destruction. The hope I’m interested in is about broad perspectives with specific possibilities, ones that invite or demand that we act. It’s also not a sunny everything-is-getting-better narrative, though it may be a counter to the everything-is-getting-worse narrative. You could call it an account of complexities and uncertainties, with openings.

I carry my fortune as I stare at an inbox willing projects to come in. I sweep and scrub the floors because hope isn’t about giving up, it’s a pressing on. It’s the will to get through something by going through it, acknowledging and settling into the fear, anger, sorrow, regret and despair that accompanies that journey through, out, and beyond.

For me, drinking has served as an anaesthetic, a way in which I can prolong the inevitable. My reality still exists it’s only my dealing with it that’s put on pause. So when I hear the words “be positive”, it feels like anaesthesia, albeit in a different form. “Be positive” invites you to be myopic, to set aside real emotion for an architected one. “Be positive” is an Icarus jetting up to the sun in wings fashioned from feather and wax. Daedalus, his father, warned him to fly neither too low or too high, so the sea’s dampness would not clog his wings or the sun’s heat melt them, but the pleas went ignored, and Icarus plummeted as precipitously as he ascended. There’s no nobility is oscillating between the extremes, but there is value in existing between them. And that value is hope.

I think about Beckett’s line, I can’t go, I’ll go on, and I see it as a carrion call for hope. When your current existence feels unmanageable, when you think that the possibility of going on is fatuous and futile, there exists a part of you (and its size may vary depending on the context of your darkness, among other things, but it does exist) that whispers: Keep moving. One day, that voice shouts: Go on. If I don’t close on a project in the next few weeks, I’ll lose my apartment. Keep cleaning. I’ll lose everything I’ve spent decades building. Get out of bed, take your pills, move through your day because even the possibility of getting better far exceeds the bottomless fall if you don’t try. If you don’t go on. Hope is straddling a dual interior narrative, a war between why bother and yes, you need to bother. Hope carries the burden of the two and it’s what moves you slowly out of the dark into the grey and cloudy and hopefully, into the light. The journey is long, hard, gradual and hardly linear, but it’s a trip worth taking. Hope promises you this. It promises that you’ll learn something from the journey that aids you, even if the destination is not one of myth and fairytales.


 

On a related note, I’ve been humbled and grateful for your support these past few weeks. I don’t write long emails and I’m not one for long comments, but please know that I’m finding your kindness to be a great salve. And to the few amazingly generous people who’ve contacted me to send me funds–it made me hope to be at a place where I can extend the same kindness to someone else. Thank you. xo

16 thoughts on “the bullshit “be positive” vs. the realistic “be hopeful” narrative

  1. I like your phrasing of positive vs. hope here. We all get so tired of wearing that same tired mask of Positivity-with-a-Capital-P, putting on that cracked porcelain facade every day just so we don’t have to hear “cheer up” or anything along those lines. When I was deep in depression a few months ago, acquaintances giving me those platitudes wasn’t what kept me from curling up in my bed and disappearing in on myself, it was the HOPE that one day the light would shine again.

    Much hope and love to you, Felicia.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I will read this over and over, Felicia. So you helped someone today, a lot, for what that is worth. I have been thinking a lot about Hope in terms of some of the Buddhist texts that I have been reading (where it is felt to be false idol) but the thoughts are like cotton candy in my head.

    Thank you for being brave and spooling out your words – for it takes as much courage to tout the thin line of hope and disparage “reckless positivity” (as I have written before, in the Declaration of Independence it speaks of the right to “the pursuit of happiness” not the right to happiness itself) in our society as to have a political conversation these days. 😉

    Did I wake up these morning to a wave of sadness? I did. But I thought, “Well, it is normal that you are feeling this, your heart is broken. Now…get up and make some tea.” Let’s hear it for the survival voice.

    I wish that I could send a bit to help out and it gives me even more hope to hear that people have offered. That is beautiful and right! But unfortunately, that is another way that I am right there with you. However I do know something, we are your armed forces.

    Sending Good Energy for Work to you and Strength…

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Oh, Heather. You (and no one else for that matter) should ever feel obligated to help financially. That’s my responsibility. And there’s so many ways you can help someone: a kind word or gesture, or just letting someone know that you’re in their corner rooting for them.

      I’m rooting for you, Heather. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Thank you so much, Felicia…and I am for you. It is true, such kindness looms large in my world these days and I am grateful for it…
        Namaste.

        Like

  3. Yes! Keep putting one step in front of another, and live in hope, it’s a much better place than fear. Fear can’t bring us out of darkness but hope can.
    You are an intelligent woman and I have no doubt you can apply that fine mind to finding work so you can stay in your new home. I’m rooting for you and your survival instinct (not least because any of us could find ourselves in your situation, speaking as one single woman to another!). I want you to stay in that California sunshine!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. This is very thought-provoking and written beautifully. I, myself have been one to claim that ‘thinking positively’ is the best way forward, however, upon reading this, I see it as much more realistic and progressive to be hopeful and open to what lies ahead. Thank you for this. x

    Like

    1. It took me a really long time to understand why “be positive” made me cringe. It was only when I was on the receiving end of those words, in the midst of loss, anxiety and grief, did I realize the pithiness of that platitude. I’m more into reality, into hope. 🙂 thanks so much for commenting.

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s