And then, quietly, he said out loud: “Estoy hasta los cojones.” (I’m fucking fed up.)
He stopped going to the morning gratitude workshops. He stopped journaling about “three good things.” He let himself be angry at the bank that denied his loan. He let himself grieve the years wasted pretending. He told his mother, “No, I’m not fine, and I don’t know if I will be.” She cried. Then she hugged him—really hugged him, not the hollow chin-up pat on the back. hasta los cojones del pensamiento positivo pdf
For five years, Mateo had been a prisoner of optimism. His startup failed? “A learning opportunity.” His girlfriend left him? “The universe makes room for what’s meant to be.” His father was diagnosed with terminal cancer? “Energy flows where attention goes—stay positive.” And then, quietly, he said out loud: “Estoy