Absurdly Optimistic: The Plot Twist I Never Saw Coming

Every now and then, you stumble across a line that stops you mid‑scroll. Recently, I saw something that said sometimes you have to be absurdly optimistic and watch life rearrange itself around that belief. And I swear, it hit me right in the ribcage.

Because here’s the truth: I wasn’t always this way.

When I was younger, I was a worrier. A glass‑half‑empty girlie. A “what if I mess up,” “what if it doesn’t work,” “what if I fail” kind of thinker. I wasn’t Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh, but let’s just say I understood his vibe. Optimism felt like something other people were born with — the carefree, the bold, the ones who didn’t rehearse disaster like it was their side hustle.

But these days? Oh honey… these days I am wildly optimistic. Borderline unreasonable. Delightfully delusional in the best possible way. Like when I buy a lottery ticket, I always — always — believe I might actually win. That’s the level of optimism we’re working with now.

And I think it came with age — or maybe wisdom — or maybe just the sweet relief of shedding the weight of everyone else’s expectations. Somewhere along the way, I joined the I Do Not Care Club, and let me tell you, membership is liberating. I stopped worrying about what people might think. I stopped contorting myself into shapes that made other people comfortable. I stopped letting fear drive the car. And once I did, life opened up.

I wrote a book — a whole book — something younger me would’ve talked herself out of. I started this blog. I started dating again. I go out with friends like a woman who finally remembered she’s allowed to have fun. I travel like I’m filming a special for Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous (minus the budget, plus the enthusiasm).

I still work hard — harder than necessary, if we’re being honest — but I don’t carry the office on my back anymore. My daughter has spread her wings, and yes, I still parent her more than she’d prefer, but that’s my job description and I take it seriously. I’m still a daughter myself, visiting my mother who is struggling cognitively, loving her fiercely through every moment.

But here’s the shift: I do all of this from a place of optimism.

A place of love.

A place of hope.

A place where I lead with heart instead of fear.

And this isn’t to say I don’t still worry about things — of course I do. I’m human. But I try to have faith, to breathe through it, and to not let that worry rule my life anymore. Worry can visit, but it doesn’t get to unpack and move in.

Sometimes I wish my daughter — and all young people — could learn this lesson earlier than I did. I wish they could skip the years of bracing for what might go wrong and instead thrive on the belief that things might actually go beautifully right. Imagine the lives they could build if they led with optimism instead of fear.

So, here’s my invitation to you: Try shedding the expectations — the ones others put on you and the ones you’ve quietly placed on yourself. Try living an absurdly optimistic, blissfully hopeful life. Try asking “What if it does work out?” instead of rehearsing the opposite.

Because sometimes, when you believe good things are coming, life rises to meet that belief.

And trust me — the view from this side is spectacular.