Tragic optimism.

I've taken a bit of a step back this week. My latest Neutrophil count was 0.4, meaning my body is severely compromised in its ability to fight off infections. My platelets are dangerously low and I've had to come in for a transfusion. 

I now know why I've felt shit recently and it's time to rest and recover. I think it's the delayed effects of the new drug Mitoxantrone. Sometimes you have to take a step back to keep moving forward.

As a naturally active and busy person, I've always found it hard to sit still for long periods of time. It's reassuring, in a way, to know that I've still got that "get up and go," but I need to play the long game and I can't rush my recovery. Coupled with the grieving process, it all adds up to another challenging time.

I've kept myself busy with admin, sorting out my Mum's Estate. When we lost my Dad it brought me and my Mum even closer and it helped me, at the time, to keep busy and get everything sorted for her. They were old school. My Mum looked after the kids and the house. My Dad went to work and sorted out all the bills. They were each reliant on the other for different things. When my Mum was feeling helpless, without my Dad, I'd remind her that he'd have felt the same without her. 

We got everything sorted, eventually. I still have that sense of service to my Mum and we'll get there this time, too. Above all, I'll find a way to keep going and be happy. She commanded it. 

I've become a big advocate of 'tragic optimism,' the ability to find hope and meaning in life despite experiencing pain, loss and suffering. Hardship is part of the human experience. It's unrealistic to dismiss it and deny negative emotions. Tragic optimism emphasises the potential for growth and resilience in the face of adversity.

Abraham Lincoln lost his Mother, aged 9. Later, the love of his life, Ann Rutledge, died suddenly. He was broken by it. Friends removed sharp objects from his home. He suffered from depression. But he didn't run from his feelings. He faced them. Lincoln journaled about death and meaning. He studied philosophy, poetry and scripture. He learned to hold grief in one hand and purpose in the other. He found a way to serve through the pain, not around it.

Viktor Frankl found meaning in the unimaginable suffering at Auschwitz. Both these great men found the ability to maintain hope and find meaning, not in spite of life's tragedies - but because of them. They weren't strong because they avoided the dark, they were strong because they integrated it. That's what real resilience looks like.

Tragic optimism isn't easy. It doesn't ask you to pretend everything is fine. It asks you to keep going - because everything isn't.