Pessimism As Self-Defense
Worst case scenario: you're right.
I was recently talking to my partner about how we have such drastically different life philosophies: he’s an optimist because he doesn’t want to add negativity to the world, and I’m a pessimist because I’ve seen more than my fair share of negativity in the world. It got me wondering, and then Googling, and then self-therapizing, and then writing, so I wanted to share my findings with anyone else out there who is similar to me in terms of their -mism.
According to choosingtherapy.com, defensive pessimism is “a technique used to alleviate and manage anxiety and emotions surrounding stressful situations by engaging in significant reflection and planning around potential poor outcomes.” If I had to define it myself, it’s the technique of saying “either I will be right or I will be pleasantly surprised” so that the anxiety of not knowing what’s to come is a little less debilitating.
A lot of people see pessimists as those who put out negativity in the world because they refuse to see the good in it. In my experience, pessimism is a way of holding off my hopes because the world has repeatedly proven to have bad in it. Either I was right to be pessimistic because it worked out exactly as I expected, or I will be pleasantly surprised because it went better than I expected. And I like things that way.
Now, this doesn’t mean that I’m running around being a downer to everyone for no reason—I still try to maintain a friendly or at least civil composure out in the world. Yeah, there is enough negativity out there. No, I don’t want to add to it. But that doesn’t mean I’m naïve enough to think that being or seeming good immediately means I’m immune to bad. You can see and contribute to the good in the world while still being a pessimist.
One of my favorite things to say before I have to do some kind of public speaking, submit a proposal, or do anything with even the slightest risk factor is: worst case scenario, they kill me. It sounds insane, but hear me out.
Leading a class discussion or speaking at a conference is terrifying. You worry about stuttering, forgetting the script, or your PowerPoint crashing. Maybe you aren’t really familiar with the content you’re sharing with people either, what if someone in the audience knows more about this than you? What if they think you sound dumb? What if you completely misread the text and they’re a secret expert on it who will accuse you of bullshitting or using CliffsNotes? What if they ask you questions about it? What if they ask one specifically to trip you up? What if it does trip you up? What if you literally trip—and fall flat on your face as you’re walking up to the podium? What if your bra is showing underneath this blouse? What if your pants rip because you drop your stack of papers and have to bend down to pick them up and everyone sees your Care Bear underwear? What if you start hiccuping because you’re nervous? What if you can’t stop? What if it gets so bad you can’t get a sentence out and everyone stares at you and waits and waits and stares and waits and you don’t get excused? What if what if what if what if—
This is how my anxiety works. I am unwillingly subject to every insane, terrifying, painful, embarrassing, and psychically damaging scenario that there is, and it usually takes up the 45 minutes before I have to go do the thing. It makes me shake and worry and sniffle once I start doing the thing and on top of that, it makes me feel nauseous and cold and then hot and then like I need to cry and throw up all at once.
Defensive pessimism is how I mitigate that. I start doing the anxious spiraling, the hair pulling, nail biting, skin picking, and leg shaking, and I stop myself by saying as calmly and flatly as I can, “Worst case scenario, they kill me.”
Yeah, tripping would be embarrassing, but it’s not the worst thing that could happen. Hiccups are annoying, but hold your breath and drink some water. A crashing PowerPoint is frustrating, but you could always close the tab and try again. Nothing that I could possibly worry about right now is the worst possible scenario. The only actual scenario that I could justify as being the worst is all these people in the audience getting up, starting a riot, and killing me on the spot. And that’s just… not happening. That wouldn’t make sense, I don’t know how that could work in a room this small, also someone would eventually call security and I’d be saved, so there’s no way that they do that.
If the worst-case scenario is that, then every other scenario I’m running through right now isn’t actually the worst case, and frankly, none of those scenarios are very likely either.
There’s this thing in logical reasoning and argumentation called reductio ad absurdum, which is Latin for “reduced to absurdity.” Essentially, you argue for your claim by insisting that the opposite scenario would lead to absurdity or contradiction. If my two options are “This presentation will be fine” or “They’re gonna riot and kill me,” then the least absurd option is the most logical answer.
It’s not the kind of thinking that I assume most people want to do, but when you have the kind of anxiety that convinces your entire nervous system that you’re being hunted for sport every time you have to speak to a cashier, then maybe this will work for you.
It’s worked for me so far, and as I type this, no one has rioted and killed me over it yet.
For now, that’s been:
as a longtime optimist... kind of obsessed with the concept of defensive pessimism lol. the human brain is such a weird little place.
haha i think i might be a defensive pessimist lol, had no idea until like two minutes ago