I May Be A Pollyanna, But I’m No Pushover

This is my latest Huffington Post piece and another in my unintentional series on the way hope, gratitude and optimism have become dirty words these days. What do you think my tribe?
xox

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/janet-bertolus/i-may-be-a-pollyanna-but-_b_11265326.html

It’s become terminally “uncool” to be hopeful and optimistic; and if anyone so much as gets a whiff of it, you are laughed at, belittled and shouted down.

That being said, I have a confession to make—I am proud to admit that I am a card-carrying “Pollyanna”.

Just to clarify, “Pollyanna” is a derogatory term for someone who remains excessively sweet-tempered and optimistic even in adversity. This may sound like it’s all fairy dust, rainbows, and unicorn balls, but I’m here to tell you, it can be difficult to maintain, especially surrounded as we are by the current apocalyptic zeitgeist.

Optimism is not for crybabies or the faint of heart.
Neither is hope. It’s an audacious act.
And fucking hard work.
It takes focus, grit, grace, a thick skin and the ability to unplug.

Hopelessness has countless outlets these days and it broadcasts its tale of woe 24/7. Like a spoiled, bratty child it yells at the top of its lungs all the while keeping its hands over its ears, lest it hear something uplifting—like the truth.

Here at the Pollyanna channel, we eat fear for breakfast—because we know the truth.

College graduation is at an all time high.
Teenage pregnancy numbers have continued to fall.
Violent crime is at an all-time low.
There has been a drop in domestic violence and drunk driving-related deaths.
Around the world, deaths from infectious diseases and child mortality are at an all time low.
Just to name a few.

I’m not blind, I still see huge room for improvement, but as an optimist, I believe the solutions come to us when we stay centered in hope.

It can be damn hard. I get it.

But like I said, optimism is not a fair weather sport for weaklings. It is for warriors. It’s so much easier to complain and blame, be furious and scared.

This pollyanna shit is not all kumbaya—it takes work!

By-the-way, if a doctor, therapist, teacher or pastor told me that the problem I was struggling with was a hopeless disaster, I would seriously run for the freakin’ hills. I expect even more from someone campaigning for the highest office in the land.

Please tell me one time that that kind of thinking has brought lasting, positive change.
One time. Tell me. I’m waiting.
NEVER.

I can guarantee you that throughout human history while some fraidy-cat fear-monger was running around like a headless chicken screaming about a falling sky, the Pollyanna’s in the bunch were calming the crowd and building a roof.

I swear to God, Noah was a Pollyanna.

“What devastating flood?” he said, over the deafening shouts of rain! Rain! Flood! Flood! Death! Disaster—and worse, no flood insurance!

“I’m building a boat” was his reply.

“What an idiot you are!” they all shouted after him as he sailed away.

Pollyanna’s unite! Be strong in the face of constant ridicule. Use your hope, use your faith, keep your optimism high and calm the crowds. Stay in the arena! We need you in the game!

Carry on.