Life isn’t perfect; it simply cannot be. And anyone who tells you otherwise may be living with little green men, or peeking out from under a toadstool with little winged people surrounding her.
Some people are born with remarkably rose-tinted retinas. Others don rose-tinted glasses on an as-needs basis, kind of aware of what they’re doing. Through this rose tinting, life can appear, well, rosey, even perfect if it’s a strong prescription or a dominant genetic mutation. It serves a protective function – to filter out not-so-perfect thoughts, observations and experiences, so that the precious inner self is not bruised. But what of reality?
I’m lacking in the scented floral department. In fact, I have been accused of being a little pessimistic, and I certainly do feel the negative vibes at times, like when the school boy wakes us all up at 6am on the weekend to go to the toilet, or when the cake sinks in the middle or I slice my finger open on cardboard… But, I would argue that pessimism meets realism along the continuum, whilst optimism can meet delusion. And I’m backing myself up with Joe Forgas (psychologist from the University of NSW), who believes that “people who are a bit on the negative side see the world as it really is”. The others? Picture Tinkerbell in the 60′s.
So if being a little negative is just about being connected with the real world, why do people try to hide the fact that they’re feeling angry, frustrated or fed up? They desperately reach for the rose tinting, either to convince themselves that things are ‘just fine, thank you very much’, or to convince others that they are ‘just fine, thank you, and my life really is perfect – I swear it!’. I can see the value in being optimistic – it can keep you from feeling overwhelmed, helpless or hopeless; from sinking into despair. It does play an extremely important role in keeping us moving forward, and so maybe it’s about degrees. Because in the absence of a bit of negativity or moments of feeling sad, self-reflection and a connection with the world around us struggle to exist. Pretense and optimism can only carry a person so far before things either implode or explode. The rose tinting acts as a plug to emotional expression and like a blocked drain, what is desperately trying to drain simply sits, festering, bubbling, threatening to erupt in your face.
Life doesn’t have to be perfect; we don’t have to be perfect. And, as Joe points out, “most people worth talking to are slightly depressed.” How far or deep can a conversation based on the perfect state of life go?
Yours florally,
The pessimist/realist
