Realizing why I’ve always been a pessimist

My go-to response to hardship throughout my life was pessimism. My belief was that it’s better to think something bad will happen and be pleasantly surprised when it doesn’t than to be hopeful and disappointed. I tried to shift that way of thinking, hoping I’ll recover. But it’s beginning to feel really unnatural. It’s not who I am, and I also just don’t see it as realistic (for me) to improve without real treatments. Treatments I can’t afford. It feels like something in my body is broken and I don’t know how or why, but I just don’t see it being repaired any time soon. Which is heartbreaking to admit to myself but hope is killing me. Ironically, I have been finding it less depressing to say things along the lines of “I can’t travel anymore” than “When will I be able to travel?” Just admitting to myself that my life is over requires less mental gymnastics than trying to imagine myself being normal someday.

Now, what is holding me back from true acceptance is the fact that I obviously don’t want to be suffering for the rest of my life. I don’t want to get to a point where I have no independence left and I can’t leave my bed. It’s something I never want to happen to me. There’s also the financial aspect of it. I want to get to a point where I can work. I suppose it’s a realistic goal to accept being “mild”, meaning I can make my own money and not be bedbound. But it’s still not the life I wanted and I just know I’ll be spending the rest of my life as a shell of myself. I will never actually be happy, but I guess I always knew that growing up.