Chasing My Increasingly Elusive Optimism
What hitting 'rock bottom' feels like, even with eight years of sobriety
The Pivot Year by Brianna Weist changed my life.
I started reading it in fall 2024. I had planned to wait until January 1, 2025, setting the tone for that blank canvas of a new calendar year. Autumn is always a restless time for me - the leaves change and so does my hairstyle or job. Being trapped in the throes of discontent once again, I decided to start reading early.
The book is divided into 365 short essays to inspire growth and transformation over the course of a year. It is vague enough to address big life shifts like loss, grief, and relationships. The specificity of the passages for me, however, was profound.
By fall 2025, as I was wrapping up my (almost) daily readings, I was determined: I was leaving my corporate job as a Director of Sales. The ultimate pivot.
Not Just a Saying on a T-shirt
I’ve been practicing yoga for over ten years, and owned my own boutique studio from 2024-2025. One of my favorite yoga apparel brands is Spiritual Gangster. While I balk at the potential appropriation of the brand’s name, I do love their soft gear and the aspirational, often woo graphics.
When they launched a collection with the theme of “Eternal Optimist,” I ate it up.
I’ve often been called Pollyanna for my (sometimes) naive optimism. When the term “spiritual bypassing” hit its peak, it was like a dagger to my heart. A friend assured me once that I was not being toxically positive, but I questioned her judgment.
I have goodness tattooed on my arm, for goodness’ sake.
Last year, after having my IUD removed, I began the rocky descent into menopause. I knew the Mirena crash was a possibility, but it crept in so slowly for me that I didn’t see it coming. I was optimistic that I’d escaped its wrath.
Then came the crying. And the impulsivity. And the rage.
And there went my optimism.
Something’s definitely wrong here
For someone used to always seeing the bright side, I was taken aback by my anger and annoyance. My window of tolerance was barely a peephole.
Things that brought me joy, like leading a team and teaching yoga asana classes, suddenly felt burdensome. I was defeated by a tough year in the CPG industry, along with the waning membership at my studio.
I had just enough optimism left to leave corporate and reclaim discarded creative endeavors. I vowed to finish a dusty manuscript and relaunch my retreat business. The Universe would reward me for this bravery, I was convinced, bringing everything from my vision board to life in an instant.
What happened in an instant? A snowstorm that canceled my first retreat of 2026.
All the while, the healthy tools that I’d developed in eight years of sobriety weren’t working. Affirmations felt phony. The resilience I teach to other women was failing me.
I was ready to light a torch and set fire to the Eternal Optimism shirts.
In January, I was diagnosed with ADHD, alongside my previous GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder) diagnosis. It explained a lot - why my previous coping skills weren’t working, why my mood swings were heightened.
Unbeknownst to me, menopause really jacks with your brain chemistry, and many previously suppressed symptoms were now feral monkeys running wild in my head.
My low point was in early February, when an increased dose of an SSRI and an intolerance to my HRT came to a head. I looked in the mirror, and mentally recited that I didn’t want to be here, only in far graver words. Thankfully, self-awareness forced me to march back into the living room and tell my husband, who held me as I cried.
The Mountain is Me
I’ve explained to close friends that this first year post-corporate feels like my first year of sobriety. I’m confused, unsure, even desperate at times. Just like a brain pickled by binge drinking, I’m certain my brain is rewiring itself to a new normal after three decades of corporate rigidity and a steady stream of estrogen.
Like eternal optimism, my patience for that is elusive.
The Pivot Year was so impactful for me that I booked a retreat with Brianna Weist at The Art of Living Center in September. Sticking with the theme, and her as a teacher, I ordered her previous book - the one that put her on the map as a thought leader.
Her bestseller The Mountain is You claims to turn self-sabotage into self-mastery. I’m in the early chapters, but her reference to “rock bottom” in Chapter 1 really hit home.
Rock bottom doesn’t have to look like an alcoholic passed out in a ditch, or sleeping it off in a jail cell. As we say in recovery, we get sick and tired of being sick and tired. And I am certainly there.
I’m sick of complaining to my friends about how hard everything is. I’m tired of selecting “every day” on the GAD scale I have to submit for my psychiatry appointments in reference to my anxiety. I shared with a new therapist that I want to wear my Eternal Optimism shirts again - and mean it.
I’m devouring this new book, reading excerpts every morning. I’m listening to Joyful, Anyway by Kate Bowler and laughing at her quick wit about “the ache.” Yesterday, I listened to it on a 45-minute walk that I didn’t necessarily want to take, but enjoyed anyway.
After a month-long holiday from all medications, I’m starting back on one that helped me for years. I tried the natural remedies, but they weren’t helping when my baseline was rock bottom. Between that and a new HRT protocol, I’m hoping to be back to my sunny self again soon.
The measure of success? A t-shirt.
PS: I’ll be on retreat this weekend, which is why this post is arriving to your Inbox early. If you don’t want to miss out on the next one, visit www.thrivewithchristy.com/retreats