Life's pretty weird. I've gone through a load of hell in the last - almost three - years, but tried to stay optimistic through it all. I told Street Ninja the other day that I am "blessed with a boundless optimism that everything will work out". I know, blech, right? But it's true.
I believe that everything will work out in the end, although that end may not be exactly what you expected or envisioned at the start. But you can't sit around waiting for things to fall into your lap; a large part of that optimism is tempered with the knowledge that you have to get up, get out and do. Nothing comes to you without a bit of effort on your part, and frankly I distrust things that are too easy in life.
Of course, it could be argued that because of my (mostly) sunny outlook, life is just that - easy for me. I don't understand why people fall into a complete funk and then wallow in it or refuse to consider that life can - and, in most cases, will - get better. I don't get people who insist that life is nothing but a series of mishaps waiting to happen, and that their lives are just completely miserable.
Wake up, people! You have clothes, food, a home, somewhere to sleep. Most of you - and by "you" I'm obviously referring to people I know, to people who complain to me, to people I can see have a good life - most of you have a phone and access to a computer. You've been educated, you can read - even if you choose not to - you stand around the water cooler gossiping about the latest Survivor or Idols or whatever. You bitch about crime and blame the government for not stepping up to help, then shelter behind your walls and drink lots of alcohol and drive around recklessly.
I just don't get it.
The only thing that got me through my dark days, that helped me survive the moments when I thought I might not live, that made me into a survivor and not a victim, is my will to live, my belief in the power of faith, my unquenched optimism. I will always believe in the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, in the silver lining, even when I'm down and miserable and crying my eyes out because of some or other mean thing someone has said to me or because I just can't take work any more.
Some might call me a Pollyanna, I know. Those people don't know what I've been through, what I've survived, and how lucky I am just to be alive, let alone have the ability to write these words.
I've been given another chance at life, and I can't spend it being miserable and hating the world. I'm just not built that way.