At 5am, Optimism Isn’t Enough

A black digital alarm clock displaying the time 5:00, with a traditional bell on top.

A few years ago, my co-creator Michaele wrote a post called “What a Ride! Taking Optimism for a Spin.” In it, she made a point that stuck with me: optimism is a skill. It can be learned, trained, and improved over time. She described going from what she called an “F grade” to achieving a solid “B.” That progress made a real difference in her life.

I’ve been thinking about that post lately. Because as I’ve been living inside my own hope journey, I’ve discovered something important.

Optimism wasn’t enough.

The 5 am Problem

Here’s the thing about optimism. It’s a disposition — a general belief that things will work out, that tomorrow holds possibility, that effort tends to pay off. And that’s genuinely valuable. Optimism sets the weather for your inner life.

But optimism doesn’t get you out of bed at 5 am.

When the alarm goes off and your inner critic is telling you to stay put — that it’s too cold, too early, too hard, that you’ll do it tomorrow — a sunny disposition isn’t enough. Something more specific has to step in. Something with direction. Something with a reason attached to it.

Two Different Things

That something is hope.

Most of us use optimism and hope interchangeably. I did too. But this year taught me they’re not the same.

Optimism is about the future in general — a belief that things will probably be okay. It’s relatively passive. You either tend toward it or you don’t, though as Michaele showed, you can train it.

Hope is active and specific. Psychologist C.R. Snyder’s Hope Theory puts it plainly: hope has two engines — agency and pathways. Both require action.

Optimism says it will probably be fine.

Hope says I will take this next step toward something that matters.

That’s a meaningful difference at 5 am.

What Fills the Gap

In my last post, I wrote about the keyword “Pictures” — the single word I used to anchor myself in the hard moments of my health journey last year. When optimism wasn’t cutting it, “Pictures” gave me something concrete to reach for. It reconnected me instantly to my deepest why — the future moments worth showing up for.

That’s hope doing its work. Not a feeling that arrived. An action I chose.

Principle 6 of the Agile Best Self Principles says that the most effective way to be your best self is to be mindful and intentional. Hope, I’ve learned, is intentionality in its most personal form. It doesn’t float in — you build it, one deliberate step at a time.

And Principle 9 reminds us that continuous attention to scientific research enhances best self. The science here is clear: Snyder’s research shows that hopeful people aren’t naive dreamers. They’re actually more clear-eyed about obstacles than pure optimists — because they’re already looking for alternative routes around them.

You Need Both

I want to be clear — I’m not dismissing optimism. Michaele is right. Training yourself toward a more optimistic outlook is worth the effort. It creates the conditions where hope can take root.

Think of it this way: optimism prepares the soil. Hope does the planting.

Principle 2 tells us to welcome change with curiosity. An optimistic mindset makes that easier. But when change gets hard — when it’s not curious and interesting but just exhausting and relentless — hope is what keeps you moving through it. Hope with a specific direction. Hope connected to your why — or as we call it your North Star.

Your Inner Critic

We all have that voice. The inner critic. The one that says stay in bed, skip the gym, avoid the hard conversation, put it off until tomorrow.

Optimism can quiet the inner critic a little. But hope can override it entirely — because hope gives you something on the other side of the discomfort worth moving toward. Hope activates your inner advocate, the voice that reminds you who you’re becoming and why it matters.

So here’s my question for you: when your inner critic wins, what does it cost you? And what would it mean to have a hope habit strong enough to let your inner advocate answer back?

Find your keyword. Take the next small step. That’s where it starts.

Copyright © 2018 – 2026 Michaele Gardner and Brian Hackerson

Pictures: How One Word Became My Hope Habit

An open photo album displaying images of people in various settings, placed on a wooden table.

A few months ago, I turned 60.  Somewhere in the months leading up to that milestone, I made a decision — not a resolution, not a vague intention, but a real, committed decision — to give myself a gift, and my family too.

That decision became the most challenging and rewarding personal journey of my life.

I’m not going to go deep into the details of what prompted it. Let’s just say a doctor’s visit made some things very clear. What I want to share is what I learned about hope along the way — because it surprised me, and I think it might surprise you too.

Hope Is Not a Feeling

I used to think of hope as something that either showed up or it didn’t. A mood. A disposition. Something the optimists had in abundance and the rest of us had to wait for.

I learned I had it all wrong.

What I discovered — through months of hard work, early mornings, and more than a few moments of wanting to quit — is that hope is something you do. It’s a practice. A habit. A series of small actions, taken consistently, in the direction of something that matters deeply to you.

That’s not just my experience. It’s backed by research. Psychologist C.R. Snyder’s Hope Theory describes hope as having two engines: agency (the belief that you can move forward) and pathways (the ability to find or create a route when the obvious one is blocked). Neither of those is passive. Both require action.

Hope, it turns out, is a verb.

The Keyword That Changed Everything

Here’s where the Agile Best Self principles came alive for me in a deeply personal way.

Early in my journey, I needed something to anchor me in the hard moments. Not a motivational poster. Not a complicated system. Something I could access instantly — at 5am when the alarm went off and every part of me wanted to stay in bed. Something that could reset my mind in seconds.

I landed on a single word: Pictures.

Here’s what that word means to me. I have a lot of life still ahead — kids graduating, getting married, building families of their own. Retirements. Milestones I can barely imagine yet. And every one of those moments will be captured in photographs that will outlive me.

What will my kids tell their grandchildren when they look at those pictures? What story will my presence — or absence, or health — tell across generations?

That’s not vanity. That’s legacy. And in my weakest moments, that single word “Pictures” could cut through all the noise and reconnect me to my deepest why.

The Principles in Action

Looking back, I can see how the Agile Best Self principles were quietly at work throughout this journey.

Principle 1 — Our highest priority is to be our best self and enable others to be their best selves. The gift I was giving myself was also a gift to my family. Being my best self and enabling others are not separate things. They are the same act.

Principle 3 — Build daily self-care habits. There is no shortcut here. The habit is the hope. Each small daily action was a vote for the future I wanted. Not a grand gesture — just a consistent, repeatable practice, one day at a time.

Principle 7 — Investing time in yourself is the primary measure of progress. The scale matters less than the investment. Every morning I showed up for myself was a win, regardless of what the numbers said that day.

Principle 12 — At regular intervals, reflect on how to become your best self, then tune and adjust behavior to be in alignment. This one kept me honest. When something wasn’t working, I didn’t quit — I adjusted. The intention stayed constant. The approach evolved.

Your Pictures

Here’s my invitation to you.

What are your pictures? What future moments are you hoping toward — not just wishing for, but actively moving toward with small, consistent steps?

You don’t have to have it all figured out. You just need a keyword. A single word or image that, in your hardest moment, reconnects you to your biggest why.

Find that word. Write it down. Return to it.

That’s where the hope habit starts.

Copyright © 2018 – 2026 Michaele Gardner and Brian Hackerson