I am frequently teased for being ‘the eternal optimist’. It’s said with love for sure - but there is also that fondness for what feels like naivety - I’m maybe a touch too idealistic, a little too quick to believe that 99.9% of people are good and that good people see rewards in the end.
And with the heart-wrenching news we all now grapple with every day, I’m told more and more regularly that the glass is quite clearly half empty and I am simply choosing not to look at it properly.
And yet.
Across large longitudinal studies, people who lean toward optimism — who expect things to work out, who interpret setbacks as temporary rather than terminal — experience lower rates of cardiovascular disease and reduced all-cause mortality. In cohorts of women followed over decades, those in the highest ranges of what researchers call ‘dispositional optimism’ live longer, with lower incidence of coronary heart disease and stroke. This outcome is true even when we adjust for income, education and baseline health.
It appears that optimism may be good for us.
Part of the explanation is behavioural. Optimistic individuals are more likely to attend health screenings, move their bodies, engage socially. But biology seems to respond more directly too.
Higher optimism scores correlate with lower circulating inflammatory markers, steadier cortisol rhythms and healthier lipid profiles. When we sip from that half full glass, the nervous system interprets the world as more navigable rather than perpetually threatening. The cardiovascular system spends less time in defensive posture. And I believe it matters particularly in the cultural ecosystem we, as females, inhabit.
Our generation was told we could have it all. The career. The family. The vitality. The seat at the table. Oh - and the elixir of eternal youth..
But, somewhere underneath that promise sat a quieter message: there may only be one seat.
One woman on the board.
One female founder funded.
One promotion.
Scarcity sharpened the edges. There is even a persistent narrative that women are harsher bosses to other women than men are — a story that, whether empirically overstated or not, reinforces vigilance. If the ladder only holds one at a time, competition becomes rational.
Scarcity thinking activates stress physiology. Perceived social threat elevates cortisol and sympathetic nervous system tone. Chronic activation, over years, contributes to inflammatory load and cardiovascular strain. When peers are unconsciously coded as rivals, the body does not distinguish between professional tension and biological danger.
Optimism interrupts that script.
If the glass is half full — if there is more than one seat, more than one opportunity, more than pathway — the nervous system responds. And, together, we can find a better way to not just navigate — but make the world.
And this is why this year’s International Women’s Day theme, Give to Gain, deserves our attention.
It asserts the merit in supporting each other. And recognises how good it is for us too. Mentoring, advocating, sharing credit — even paying someone you admire a complement - all are associated with increases in oxytocin and activation of neural reward pathways. Oxytocin modulates stress responses and supports cardiovascular function. Social integration remains one of the strongest predictors of longevity identified in public health research. Women embedded in supportive networks consistently outlive those who are socially isolated, independent of socioeconomic status.
Giving, particularly without an expectation of return, recalibrates the system. The act signals abundance. The physiology follows.
I know that inequity does not simply disappear through positive thinking. I know how hard it is to remember the good in humanity when all you see played out across the news talks to irreparable, unforgivable harm meted out on those more vulnerable. But I also believe that we, as females, have the opportunity to make big change happen.
And, as an elder myself, I feel called to do it loudly.
The glass half full is not about ignoring what is missing. It is about noticing what is already there — and pouring some of it into someone else’s cup.
Who's ready to raise a glass with me?
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