Moment-to-Moment Optimism

By Dr. Russ

Monday is Dr. Russ Busster Day.  Each Monday, I write about some specific strategies that you can use to “Busst-Up” any pessimism standing in the way of a weekly optimistic outlook.  For today’s Dr. Russ Bussters, I share some current, internal dialogue that I am going through to rid myself of some of my own pessimism in this very moment.

As I sit here facing the week, I feel a significant tinge of pessimism, some uneasiness,
worry and general anxiety.  I ask myself, "Can an optimist feel pessimistic?"  I answer with a resounding “Yes!”

Optimists are human, have their up and down moments.  I remind myself it is not about feeling optimistic or pessimistic in any given moment, but it is about recognizing how I am feeling in that moment and managing myself back towards optimism and a positive attitude. Some pessimistic moments last longer than others, and some are downright “sticky,” like trying to get gum off the bottom of your shoe.  

TODAY, THE PESSIMISM FEELS LIKE GUM ON MY SHOE

Perhaps I am worried about upcoming deadlines.  In two weeks we will host an open house to kick-off our new venture of teaching optimism in a series of workshops.  I not only worry whether we will reach our target goal of 100 guests, but find myself castrophizing about anyone showing up.  Then I realize, “no matter what, I will have to take what the day gives me and move on from there to face the next challenge.”

SOME GUM REMAINS

. . . even with that thought. When I think about what I have to look forward to over the next three days, I think I should be joyful and full of the positive.  I should be thinking about my upcoming three day trip to New York City. We will be celebrating our son’s 30th birthday with family and friends.  Even more exciting, he is a young fashion designer and will have his first major runway show in New York sponsored by the largest cosmetic company in the world, M.A.C. Cosmetics.   

When I think about the NYC trip, yes, I am proud and excited.  However, I can’t think about the trip without worrying how I am going to get everything done.   

DARN GUM IS STILL THERE

Now my mind turns to thirty years ago when he was born by emergency C-section; almost didn’t make it into this world:

•    It was 2 weeks past the due date, not unusual for a first child.  All the prenatal care assessments indicated a healthy baby.  Being some 40 minutes from hospital, I was hyper-vigilant, knew three alternative routes. My wife had had some minor contractions for several days, but nothing sustainable; hospital said to wait.  Finally 9 pm one night they appeared to be regular and hospital personal said to come in.  An hour later, after admission forms, placed in a small birthing room, we met the HMO doctor on duty, a female OB/GYN with good bedside manner. One centimeter dilation went to three; progress was being made as we did the “breathing thing” all through the night.  She couldn’t have anything to eat;  a new doctor came on at shift change, up to five centimeters after 12 hours; slow progress. Around 11am, my wife’s exhaustion and pain reached an unbearable level, and she decided to accept the offer of an epidural.  As she began to relax with pain subsiding, the fetal heart monitor planted in the scalp began to buzz loudly.  The fetus was in distress. An emergency call was put out – her regular OB/GYN was located in the hospital.  He swept into the room and quickly found a way to relieve the pressure on the umbilical cord. The relaxation had apparently caused the fetus to shift and lay on the cord cutting off his vital oxygen supply.  Now momentarily safe, she was wheeled out of the room and down the hall to surgery. As I looked down that hall, a wave of the strongest emotions of sadness and worry that I had ever recalled feeling, swept over me.  I felt my knees buckling, imagined, for an instant, falling to the floor and just sobbing.   Then I heard the invitation for me to come down to surgery; the fetus and mother stable; since the epidural was in effect, surgery could be performed immediately. I could be there and hold her hand.  There was a screen shielding our view of the operation.   Soon we saw the nurse gleefully hold-up a screaming baby boy.  About thirty minutes later in post-op, the baby boy was brought in and my wife held him closely to her chest and said: “We have our family.”

With that thought and some teary eyes, as I conclude this story: 

THE GUM IS GONE!

Eight Dr. Russ Bussters to rid yourself of “STICKY PESSIMISM”

1.    Admit to yourself you are having some pessimism, do not deny it.  Better to feel it, embrace it for a moment, explore it, talk to it than to push it away and say, “Oh, I’m supposed to optimistic, I can’t feel that way.” 
2.    Once acknowledged, try to capture possible worrisome thoughts, ones that create a feeling of hopelessness and helplessness. 
3.    Use your internal “self-talk” dialogue to explore this negative thinking.
4.    Try to focus on some definite positive upcoming events.
5.    Explore the interplay of the positive and negative.  In my case, I recognized I was worrying about the positive limiting my time and adding to the negative.
6.    Recognize and accept that some pessimism is darn “sticky.”  But don’t be overwhelmed or give in: keep up the self-management tool of the internal dialogue.
7.    Allow for a little catharsis, some teary moments like I experienced while recalling and writing the above “birth” story.
8.    Over the last thirty years, in numerous times of difficulty, the most relieving and optimistic inspiring phrase that I have found to be incredibly beneficial is:  “WE HAVE OUR FAMILY!”