Optimism Wasn't My Personality. It Became My Survival Strategy.
- Ofer Goren
- May 29
- 2 min read
People sometimes tell me I'm optimistic.
They usually say it after reading one of my posts.
I always smile.
If you'd met me before COPD, "optimistic" probably wouldn't have been the first word you'd choose.
Pragmatic?
Definitely.
Slightly cynical?
More than slightly.
Optimistic?
Not really.
COPD didn't suddenly turn me into a positive person.
It simply taught me that pessimism was completely useless.
It didn't improve my breathing.
It didn't make climbing stairs any easier.
It didn't convince my lungs to cooperate.
It just made bad days feel even worse.
So, somewhere along the way, I made a decision.
Not to become optimistic.
To become practical.
There is a difference.
Practical people ask,
"What can I still do today?"
Instead of,
"Why is this happening to me?"
That small change quietly transformed the way I lived with COPD.
I stopped measuring life by everything I'd lost.
I started measuring it by everything I could still do.
Some days the list was impressive.
Some days it included making coffee without sitting down halfway through.
Both counted.
I also learned that optimism doesn't always look the way people imagine.
It isn't smiling all the time.
It isn't pretending everything is fine.
It certainly isn't posting inspirational quotes over pictures of sunsets.
For me, optimism is taking my medication even when I'm tired of taking medication.
Going for a walk even when I'd rather stay on the sofa.
Making plans while fully aware that my lungs might decide to edit them later.
That's not positivity.
That's persistence.
Looking back, I think COPD taught me something I probably should have learned much earlier.
Hope is not a feeling.
It's a habit.
And like every habit, some days it comes easily.
Other days you have to drag it behind you.
Fortunately, habits don't care much how you feel.
They just ask whether you'll show up again tomorrow.
That's usually enough.
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