There was an interesting dialogue on the message board of my “Optimism Versus Hope” post. Reader Larry Parker began the conversation with this differentiation between optimism and hope:

Optimism is a mirage in this world (for anyone, not just those with depression); it says that everything in this world can go perfectly for you if you just try hard enough, which is an outright lie. Hope says there is a place for you in this world — but it may not be easy, and it may be filled with struggle. (Again, whatever your medical diagnosis or lack thereof.)
Optimism is selfish, or at least self-centered. Hope acknowledges that there are others in the struggle with you. Perhaps why Jesus and other religious teachers speak of hope — not optimism.

Reader Babs responded with this:

Too often we perceive ourselves as helpless when we are not. We make choices and some feed our depression, while others help to lift it. I’ll offer an example of my own experience, and I’ll bet that others could think of their own. When I am in the midst of a dark period, when my thoughts (and sometimes actions) are destructive, I tend to listen to “dark” music (I am a musician and teacher). Now I am aware that this feeds my dark thoughts, but sometimes that is exactly what I want to do. Because of my husband’s job, I am often alone at home for long periods. This is not good for me. I need to see people, even though I would rather not. If I stay home, I’ve made a choice to feed the darkness. I would rather lock myself away, but if I am honest, I have to admit that it is a choice and that being around people always lifts my spirits.
Is it possible to suffer from depression and be an optimist? Yes, I think so. I am writing this as I have just lost my ten-year teaching job as a result of a school closing. It is probably too late to find another position for this teaching year. But I remain optimistic, hopeful, if you will. If I do not find something in my profession, I will find a way to get by. Am I loaded with self-confidence? Not particularly. I am my worst critic. Am I fooling myself? Maybe, but I don’t think so. I am making a choice to think beyond my regular idea of myself and open up to possibilities that I haven’t previously considered.
I don’t subscribe to “The Secret,” but I don’t reject entirely that our thoughts *do* contribute to our overall mental health and to the successes and failures in life. I am a fan of medication; not because it cures me, but because it enables me to function fairly normally most of the time. I have been in talk therapy for over a decade and can say that in reading the entries in my journal over the years, I have seen a transformation in my thought processes and overall emotional disposition. Everything isn’t rosy, but like the Beatles song says, “It’s getting better all the time.” Even in my darkest periods, I am not tempted to tear the “Life is Good” decal off my bumper.
I have a default pathway that my brain wants to follow — one of depression and helplessness. But I think many people, not all (because I won’t generalize), can make significant progress toward recovery through a variety of means. I am creating new ways to think about myself and my life situations and experiences. Everytime I do that, I am working toward a new default pathway. Perhaps it will never happen, but I now recognize that I am not helpless, even though I sometimes wish I were.

I agree with both of them (what did you expect? I hate confrontation and am a platinum-level member of People-Pleasers Anonymous, too), so I’ll go into Peg’s camp:

Right now my impression of optimism is a rather shallow one while hope comes from a deeper place and most definitely spiritually defining for me.
A gentleman in our building says he is a member of The Optimist’s Club. I wonder what that is all about. He sure seems to be upbeat and cheerful when we cross paths (sometimes annoyingly so, I admit, but would I rather he be an old grouch? I don’t think so).