I’m Flummoxed by“Positive Thinking”

Sometimes, all you can do is wallow

Disclaimer: I’m having a bit of a pity party for one, so if you’re having a bang-up day, better save this for later.

In my personal opinion, as I sit here contemplating the start of a new year, I’ve come to the conclusion that there is nothing positive to take away from 20/20 unless you’re young enough to have a shit load of years ahead of you. I do not. I’m in my 60s and am treading water.

I’m doing what I can to beat the odds and hang around for as long as I can, but I feel my body buckling under the nearly constant rage and angst I feel every damn day.

I’m certain many of you can understand where I’m coming from.

So many things to get fired up over. So many lives needlessly lost and families asunder. And so many of our citizens here, in the United States of America, who are “food insecure,” a media buzzword I hate. They’re not “food insecure!” People are fucking hungry!

Why do we have to brand everything to make it more palatable to the masses?

I feel like a complete failure. Unlike the positive thinkers…and doers…I absolutely suck at sheltering-in-place. I did nothing that I vowed to do. I didn’t declutter, nor did I grow tomatoes in the box in our yard that was built expressly for that purpose. I did have a glorious profusion of weeds, though.

I didn’t bake, because I suck at it, and I didn’t get ripped. Instead, I’ve been gaining and losing the same five pounds even though I’ve been killing myself to stay in shape.

Instead of cutting back on the booze, which I actually did for three weeks, I hopped right off that wagon and am guzzling the vino every night, while lying to myself that the twenty-five supplements I take will offset the negative effects.

And I haven’t been mindful. What does that mean, anyway? I need to figure this out.

In my head, I know that my husband and I are blessed compared to so many others but, how often can you milk that? And for how long? When you feel like shit, you feel like shit, and telling yourself that you’re better off than the guy down the street doesn’t cut it.

And then there’s Medium. And my pitiful attempt at staying relevant as a writer. Because I don’t expect to be pleasantly surprised on this platform, ever, I rarely check my stats. Doing so is like hurling myself at a brick wall repeatedly. As it stands, I’ll never be one of the big earners and I suppose one day that I’ll just give up. I’m hoping I don’t, but it sucks to be ignored.

I’ve seen writers slowly pull away from this platform and frankly, I admire their gumption and resolve. Like my friend, P.G. Barnett, who has been scarce of late, for the same reasons I just laid out. I’m sure he is stoking his creative spark in other ways, because he, like, me, really isn’t a quitter. But he’s taken off the rose-colored glasses and I respect him for that.

Another friend, Stephen Sovie has also been vocal about the lack of love he receives here. Both of us have laughed over the plethora of crappy stories here that go BIG and VIRAL and are CURATED and FEATURED and all that jazz.

And Stephen and P.G. aren’t the only ones. I’ve noticed that other writers have dropped off the radar, as well.

That said, it’s January 1st, and a new year, and I know I need to pick myself up, dust myself off and kick myself in the ass. I have to, as I don’t know what the alternative is.

Until this virus is under control, I can’t imagine that Hollywood is producing projects at a “normal” rate so I will veer away from screenwriting and attempt to write a novel…shake things up. That is not a resolution, however, because I suck at those, too.

Perhaps I will make one tiny little resolution. And that is to just do the best I can to get from one day to the next. Like the majority of us.

I know there are many people here who have managed to slog through this surreal period with grace, gratitude, and yes, positivity. They post pictures of their perfectly-ordered homes and gardens and four-star meals and the like and I just feel like a slug. Like I’m disappearing along with my muse.

But I’m clean, people! I shower (and exfoliate) every single day!

Please understand that I mean no disrespect to their sunny mindsets. In fact, I’m envious. Instead of anxiety and OCD and all the other demons scrabbling around in my head, I wish I had rainbows, unicorns, and cookie recipes. I wish I was a different sort of person.

Is this possible? Can I be the type of individual who wakes up each morning and says, “Hell, yeah, I can do this?” Who can make lemonade from lemons? Who sees the glass as half-full?

Here in the Chicago area, it’s freezing. We finally got some snow, which I was happy to see, as fifty-degree winters are not “normal” here. They signify everything that’s screwed up with our climate.

Yep. It’s cold and gray and perhaps I can derive some warmth from that. If nothing else, I’ll do my best.

© Sherry McGuinn, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times, and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.

Thanks for reading, guys. If you enjoyed this, please check out the following, as well as my newsletter, Sherry Raw.