Half Full

Chicken Soup for the Soul: Think Positive

BY: Linda Newton

Every day may not be good, but there's something good in every day.
~Author Unknown

My middle child, Jacob, was intelligent, resourceful and good-looking. Despite all he had going for him, he possessed the disturbing tendency to constantly see the cup of life as half empty. Every day when he came home from school Jake would list everything bad that happened that day! Despite my best efforts, I couldn't convince him to lose the negative attitude and choose to count his blessings.

On his ninth birthday, we saved enough money to take the family to Disneyland for two days. His dad and I didn't make much then, so it was a considerable sacrifice, but we felt Jacob's birthday was worth it. After doing Disneyland to death, we collapsed in our hotel room and I asked the birthday boy, "Did you have fun today, Jake?"

All my faultfinding son could say to me was, "Pirates of the Caribbean was closed!"

"Jacob Marshall," I chided, clearly unable to contain my exasperation, "we stood in line for an hour and a half to see The Haunted Mansion. We rode Space Mountain three times. We walked in the park for two solid days, and all you can say is, 'Pirates of the Caribbean was closed?'" Clearly, something had to be done about his negative attitude, and I was going to be the one to do it!

I approached my mission with the determination of a battalion commander. I read every article, bought every book. If the Internet had been available then, I would have Googled for weeks to find the ammunition I needed to defeat his negativity.

With the help of great resources, I developed my strategy. Several books I read identified my son's temperament as melancholy: He was sensitive, artistic, deep, analytical, and able to see the worst in every situation. That described Jake all right.

My research informed me that people with the melancholic temperament have an emotional need for order and sensitivity. That meant I needed to listen patiently to my son's daily pessimistic litany. My usual reaction was to try to talk Jake out of his negativity, but that wouldn't satisfy his need for sensitivity. I had to let him finish his lament and ask, "What good things happened today?" Then I needed to wait until he could tell me -- wait for as long as it took. This would help Jacob realize that good things really were happening to him, despite his woeful perspective.

The day came when I was ready to put my new tools to work. Jake came home from school, flopped down on his bed as usual and again began to tick off his list of the terrible things that had happened at school. I listened attentively, making eye contact and nodding with empathy, before I asked, "What good things happened today, Jake?"

His response was what I expected, "Nothing."

"Something good had to happen. You were there for six hours," I encouraged. Then I waited. I waited fifteen long minutes that first day, determined to stay there all night if that's what it took to shift his paradigm.

At last he admitted, "I did get to dust the erasers."

"By yourself?"

"No, with Brandon."

"Your best friend?"

"Yeah."

"You mean you got to leave class and dust erasers with your buddy? You're one lucky kid, if you ask me!"

"Yeah, I guess I am," Jake remarked with his head back and his shoulders squared.

This began a daily exercise for us. I lost count of how many times we repeated this ritual. Jacob came to understand the power of a positive perspective, but the path to get there seemed to escape him at times. Then I would encourage him to see things differently, and he would get back on the track of choosing to see the positive and losing the negative attitude. It was a struggle, but he was making headway.

The school year was winding down and Mother's Day rolled around. Jake's dad took him to the store for a Mother's Day card. Next to the cake he and his sisters had prepared was the card he had chosen by himself. Grinning from ear to ear he presented it. On the front it read:

"The pessimist sees the cup half empty.

The optimist sees the cup half full."

I opened the card and read inside:

"But Mom sees the cup as one more thing someone was too inconsiderate to put in the dishwasher! Happy Mother's Day."
Jake and I laughed until we cried, and in that moment, I was convinced my hard work was paying off.

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