I have a colleague who has suffered a great deal and is very sweet, so I try to always be pleasant to herâ€¦but she possesses one of those relentlessly positive attitudes that I find difficult to stomach. When we talk about how exhausting children are, she might say â€œBut then you see them, and itâ€™s all worth it.â€ Is it? Is it really? Iâ€™m not saying Iâ€™m not crazy about Baby, but when he doing something like say, kicking me pretty hard in the boobs, the voice in my head is not going â€œawww, my sweet angel.â€
What I realized this morning (and Iâ€™m pretty sure Iâ€™ve written about this previously) is that itâ€™s not so much that I have a problem with her being positive, but more that she insists that I also be positive. To me, thatâ€™s like having a cup of coffee with a religious fanatic with no mutual listening going on â€“ and me and positivity have a checkered past. I enjoy reading about it online and in books (see self-help fetish). I find it relaxing, the way some may enjoy bodice-ripping, paperback romancesâ€¦but in reality, I will most likely always toggle somewhere between Paralyzing Anxiety About the Future; Good Spirits; Not So Bad; Cranky from Lack of Sleep; Could Be Better, Could Be Worse; Happy/Punchyâ€¦.and Drunk from Two Glasses of Wine.