When I say pessimism, it's not in the sense of a bitter old person or a listless young fool. I mean the deliberate curbing of mania.
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Most of my life, I've struggled with mood swings. Calling it a "disorder" would be insensitive to manic depressives, but it's been rough.
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Because of this particular weakness, I've been a student both of the Cult of Positivity and the Buddhist obsession with suffering.
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I have partaken in the excesses of both paths, and I have rejected both. As spoils, I took hedonism from one and meditation from the other.
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Those spoils have served me well, but they were only a partial help aginst my real enemy this whole time: a too-easily-triggered optimism.
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A jolt of optimism would set off a manic phase of raised expectations, high productivity and aggressive, exuberant behaviour.
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This would last until the dread shade of disappoinment appeared, accompanying some unexpected problem. Depression would follow.
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Eventually, depression would give way to clarity, clarity would give way to happiness and hapiness would bring cause for optimism. Reset.
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In my mind, this condition is near-universal - although others may find it more or less acute, depending on their disposition and nature.
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This is what pessimism - and by pessimism, I mean only curbed optimism - protects me from: suffering on one side and mania on the other.
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Because pessimism is just recognizing the flaws of your monkey nature - that your monkey brain attempts to shield you from - without horror.
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I don't pretend to be happy when I am not; I don't curtail negativity. But nor do I reject happiness. There is no call for that whatsoever.
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So when I say I'm pessimistic, I mostly mean that I'm not full of shit. At least, not all the time, and not on this particular point.
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