14 Unexpected Benefits of Practicing Positivity During Difficult Times

A few years ago, I went through a really rough stretch—personal life in flux, a startup pivot hanging by a thread, the kind of months where your stress feels like a second skin. Somewhere in that mess, I started consciously practicing positivity—not the “just smile more” kind, but deliberately looking for one absurdly specific thing that didn’t suck each day. Something micro. Like how the tea I made didn’t go bitter, or how the construction noise stopped for once, or how I finally remembered to stretch before bed.

What shocked me most wasn’t that my mood improved (it didn’t, at least not right away). It was that other people started treating me differently. Colleagues were more open. Clients were warmer. Even strangers were friendlier. The energy I thought I was faking somehow became real in the way people mirrored it back. Positivity turned out to be contagious—not like a virus, but more like an accent. You fake it for a bit, and then suddenly, you’re fluent.

The unexpected benefit? Practicing positivity rewired how I was perceived, which in turn reshaped my reality. That part blew my mind. It’s easy to think of mindset as something internal. But it’s not. It leaks. And that leakage either fuels or floods the rest of your life.

What surprised me most about consciously practicing positivity during one of the darkest seasons of my life was how much strength it gave me when nothing around me felt certain. During Covid, when my husband was sick and fear was a constant companion, the only thing that kept me steady was worshiping God and trusting deeply that He would not take my husband from me or leave me to carry that pain alone. I held onto the belief that there was a life waiting for us on the other side of that moment: children, peace, joy, a future we hadn’t seen yet but felt in my spirit. That mindset didn’t erase the fear, but it quieted it enough for me to breathe, to hope, and to move through each day with a sense of grounding I didn’t expect. The unexpected benefit was how that faith shaped my perspective long after the crisis ended; it taught me that belief, true, rooted belief, can carry you farther than circumstances ever will. Fast forward over 5 years from that season, and that future we imagined—children, joy, peace—became the life we are living now.

We had a brutal summer a few years back in San Antonio. The heat was relentless, and we were drowning in service calls—every technician was fried, and our repair queue was overflowing. I knew I couldn’t control the weather or the sheer volume of breakdowns, but I could control the attitude we brought to work every morning. So, I made a conscious decision to be relentlessly positive and encouraging with the team, even when things looked grim.

The unexpected benefit wasn’t just that morale stayed up; it was how our efficiency jumped. When the team felt like their stress was acknowledged but their effort was genuinely appreciated, they started working smarter and communicating better. We became less reactive and more focused on quickly diagnosing problems rather than just spinning our wheels. That positive energy created clarity that helped us triage and fix more units faster, which is the last thing I expected when I was just trying to keep everyone from quitting.

What surprised me most about the outcome was learning that positivity isn’t just a soft skill; it’s a fundamental operational tool. When you maintain a confident, problem-solving mindset, it trickles down and becomes the standard operating procedure for the whole company. We got through that summer not just surviving, but setting new records for successful repairs, all because we chose to focus on solutions instead of the size of the problem. That shift in perspective changed how I approach every challenge at Honeycomb Air.

Practicing positivity during burnout taught me that optimism isn’t about emotion—it’s about attention. I started journaling one clear win from each day, no matter how small, as a way to stay grounded. At first, it felt forced, but within weeks, my brain began scanning for progress automatically instead of setbacks. The unexpected shift was physiological: lower resting heart rate, better sleep, even smoother caffeine responses. It wasn’t denial of stress; it was data redirection. Focusing on what went right recalibrated how I processed effort and failure. The practice turned survival mode into observation mode, which later inspired how Equipoise approaches balance—treating mindset not as a feeling to chase, but as a system you can train. Positivity, when done deliberately, became less about happiness and more about recovery speed.

Practicing positivity felt fake at first, almost like I was trying to talk myself out of a hard season. The unexpected benefit came when I started doing one tiny thing each day called a “positive pin.” It was just a quick note of something small that didn’t fall apart that day. A kid laughing at breakfast. A task that finally clicked. A quiet moment on the drive home. Nothing profound. Just something steady.

What surprised me most was how those tiny pins changed my nervous system before they changed my mindset. I expected forced positivity to feel hollow, but instead it softened the emotional spikes. The hard days didn’t hit as hard because my brain wasn’t only storing the tough moments. It started noticing the good ones again. The fog didn’t lift all at once, but I stopped feeling swallowed by the heaviness.

The real surprise was this: Positivity didn’t make the hard season easier. It made me stronger inside it. And that was enough to keep going.

During a stressful period when everything felt uncertain, I made a point to write down one good thing each day—no matter how small. At first, it felt forced, but over time my attention shifted. I started noticing small wins before the day ended, not after. The real surprise wasn’t feeling happier; it was feeling calmer. Positivity didn’t erase the challenges, but it made them less defining. That simple habit trained my mind to pause before reacting and to look for balance instead of control. The outcome wasn’t a sudden burst of joy—it was steadiness. And in hard seasons, steadiness is its own kind of strength.

During a brutal run of storm calls in Odessa, I started forcing myself to find one thing each day that didn’t break. Something tiny. Maybe a crew wrapped up ahead of schedule, or a homeowner gave a tired smile even though their living room looked like a sponge. At first, it felt silly, like I was sugarcoating a mess. Then it shifted. My shoulders dropped a little. Calls went smoother because I wasn’t stepping into every conversation already braced for trouble. It created this small buffer that changed how the day landed.

The wild part was how fast the mood spread. Crews picked up on it without a word. Homeowners calmed down faster. Jobs that should’ve dragged found their rhythm. I expected positivity to feel fake or fragile. Instead, it worked like a pressure valve. A tiny release that kept the whole operation from boiling over. It showed me that mindset doesn’t fix chaos, but it shapes how you walk through it, and sometimes that’s all you need to keep everything from sliding sideways.

During hard times, it can greatly help to focus on positivity. During a hard time in my life, I made a conscious effort to focus on small positives each day by writing down one thing I was grateful for, even if it felt insignificant. At first, this can feel forced or almost naive in the face of real challenges, but eventually this simple habit can shift your perspective. With this, we start to notice the small moments of calm, kindness, or beauty that we might have previously overlooked. The most unexpected benefit for me was how this practice softened how I would talk to myself. I became more compassionate and optimistic towards myself. This shift in perspective won’t erase the difficulty of a situation or a rough period during your life, but it can change how you carry the difficulty. Something surprising is realizing that positivity isn’t about denying negativity or pain, but is about expanding your awareness to include hope and gratitude, which provides a sense of calm and control that you may not expect.

A few years ago, I was experiencing a tough time personally and professionally, and it was beginning to impact my day-to-day routine. I read self-help books, listened to experts, and did everything I thought would help, but all the suggestions and ideas seemed too far-fetched. The only thing that stuck out for me was that I needed to find a way to remember the good things and retain that perspective.

I tried a bunch of tools — notes apps, journals, etc. — but found Post-it notes to be the most usable. So every time something positive happened — even something as small as making great coffee in the morning — I wrote it and put the Post-it somewhere in my bag or my car, to be found later. Over time, I filled an entire pack of Post-its with very life-affirming little reminders and kept finding them days or weeks later with a lot of gratitude.

To be fair, this practice didn’t erase my challenges at all, but it made dealing with these challenges a lot easier. The most surprising result of this practice is that I have been doing this consistently for over four years now! Plus, this small shift internally made the world a lot more optimistic, lighter, and happier, even though nothing had shifted in my external circumstances.

When the market slowed and property sales stalled, choosing to stay positive felt like forcing sunlight through concrete. But the shift wasn’t about pretending everything was fine—it was about focusing on what I could still build. I started checking in more with clients, sharing updates, and finding small wins instead of staring at the numbers. What surprised me most was how contagious it became. The team’s energy changed, and clients responded with more trust and patience.

That mindset didn’t fix the slowdown overnight, but it created stability when everything else felt unpredictable. Positivity turned into momentum. It made people feel safe continuing to plan their futures, even when the economy looked shaky. I learned that optimism, when practiced honestly, doesn’t blind you to problems—it gives you the grit to keep going through them.

I didn’t expect clarity. I thought practicing positivity meant forcing myself to smile through bullshit, slapping optimism on top of chaos like duct tape on a bullet wound. But it wasn’t that. It was asking better questions. Like—”Okay, this sucks. But what now? What’s mine to carry, and what can I set down?”

The surprise was how much noise fell away. When you stop feeding the panic, the drama, the self-pity—even just a little—you start hearing yourself again. That whisper under the wreckage? It’s still there. Practicing positivity gave it a mic. Not to pretend things were fine, but to remind me I still had a choice in how I walked through the fire. That was the shock: not that I felt better. But that I felt free.

When algorithm changes dropped our client’s website traffic, frustration could have easily taken over. I consciously practiced positivity, treating it as an opportunity to test new SEO tactics. That mindset helped the team stay creative instead of reactive. We focused on understanding the update, refining our keyword strategy, and aligning content with user intent.

The positive approach shifted the team’s energy from stress to innovation. We started experimenting with fresh content formats, improving internal linking, and optimizing for search intent. Each small win rebuilt confidence and strengthened collaboration across departments. The result was a comprehensive content strategy that restored and exceeded our pre-update ranking levels.

When our email open rates dropped sharply, I stayed positive and encouraged the team to test more authentic subject lines. We treated every low number as insight, not failure. This approach built momentum instead of frustration. Within a month, open rates increased, surprising everyone who expected a decline. What truly stood out was how positivity changed the team’s energy.

Instead of playing it safe, they experimented with new ideas and creative tones that felt more genuine to our audience. The shift helped us connect emotionally with readers, which made our campaigns more human and relatable. The experience reminded me that optimism in leadership does not just lift morale, it inspires innovation that data alone cannot drive.