With many medications, as well as a therapeutic dosage there is the distinct possibility of toxic overdosing.
More than once (understatement) I have been accused of thinking too much, essentially overdosing on thought.
But I'm having to do some thought on another possible variants of overdosing: on optimism and hope.
Now, I don't think there's much disagreement that these entities can be positive therapeutic tools in many circumstances. And that a deficiency in one or both can in at least some situations promote depression, apathy and passivity.
No need to argue there, that much.
But what about overdoing it?
The immediate prompt was my condition on Sunday, when optimism on Saturday was not mixed with adequate caution, and so I ached, and could do little.
Proposal: too much or ill-placed optimism can be harmful, even downright dangerous.
"Of course it'll take my weight"
"That gap's plenty big enough to get the car through."
or in my immediate case, "I feel fine: five minutes more won't hurt."
No point in undue pessimism, but finding the right dose, optimism correctly titrated, is not a trivial problem.
I've not much in the way of spare resources, physically, to give much play in the matter and, with a distinct desire not to be too optimistic, I'm counting myself as a little brittle, mentally. Not disastrously, but just to where I'm not betting on having a lot of spare resources there.
It feels a bit like a tightrope, but I think there's one side I'd rather fall off than the other.
Similarly with hope: too much, or wrongly placed, looks good right up to the point where it shatters. And that's nasty.
Been there, done that, and so I've got more work to do on getting the right balance for hope, as well.
Though with my odd mind, I'm not convinced I need any, of a necessity. Nice to have some, though.