The Lesson That Stole My Optimism

When I was younger, my parents taught me never to raise my hopes for anything because it might not happen. Whilst I understand the sentiment, especially when it came to more unlikely things, I often wonder whether this mindset, drilled into me from such a young age, has shaped the lack of hope or excitement I now feel towards life in general.

Sometimes it was about material things, like birthday or Christmas presents. I’d beg for a particular item, only to be told not to get too excited in case I didn’t receive it. Over time, it almost made excitement feel like a dangerous emotion; something to avoid rather than embrace. Sometimes I was lucky enough to get the gift and felt incredibly grateful, but other times I didn’t. Even then, I still felt disappointed, because some small shred of hope had remained. Perhaps it would have felt worse if I’d allowed myself to fully believe it would happen, only to be let down.

Other times, it was about experiences. If I had my heart set on a trip to one of my favourite shops, hoping my parents might take me to Staples or WHSmith for a new fountain pen, I’d be told not to get excited in case we couldn’t go. The same applied to smaller things too: the possibility of a McDonald’s Happy Meal on the way home, or having a friend round for tea after school. Even the smallest joys seemed to come with a warning not to expect them.

I don’t resent my parents for teaching me this lesson. In many ways, it’s sensible. Life often disappoints us, and learning how to manage expectations is crucial. I just wonder whether my own mind took that lesson further than it was ever intended to go. I’m a very pessimistic person in general. I’ve grown up expecting failure, always preparing for the worst-case scenario so that I’m not caught off guard.

As a result, I’ve never aimed particularly high in life. Perhaps it’s the fear of failure. If I don’t try, then I can’t fail; I can only accept that I never tried in the first place, which is an easier feeling to process. I’m used to making an effort and ending up back at square one, and that only reinforces the feeling.

I often wonder how things might have been if I’d never learned this lesson so young. Would I have become spoiled? Would I cope better with disappointment? Would I allow myself to look forward to more things in life? It’s something I’ll never know, but it’s fascinating to consider just how much the lessons we absorb as children can shape the people we become.