Enthusiasm Is Not Naïve. It Is How I Choose to Stay Alive.

Let me share something with you, simply, honestly.

I had one of those moments recently. Not a dramatic revelation, more a quiet internal click. The kind that gently rearranges things rather than shaking them apart.

I was listening to an interview with a filmmaker, and he said this: enthusiasm is a value worth protecting.

Not as denial.
Not as blind optimism.
But as a deliberate stance towards life.

And suddenly, something settled.

Because enthusiasm has not always been an easy value for me.

I grew up in an environment where joy was… complicated. Where lightness was treated with suspicion. On one side, there was the unspoken fear that happiness was dangerous, that if you allowed yourself too much joy, life would inevitably take it back. Brightness felt fragile. Almost reckless.

On the other side, there was a more intellectual mistrust of enthusiasm. The belief that seriousness equals intelligence. That rigour requires emotional restraint. That humour has little place where credibility matters. This is a mindset many of us have encountered in academic, scientific, or high-performing professional environments.

In that landscape, fun felt either risky or useless. Often both.

And yet, somehow, I kept choosing it.

Not because life was easy. It was not. But because humour, lightness, and enthusiasm were how I stayed connected to myself. They were how I breathed in heavy rooms. How I softened sharp edges. How I reminded myself that life could still move, even when circumstances felt dense or demanding.

Over time, that choice came with a cost.

As a young woman, enthusiasm was not always trusted. Warmth was sometimes mistaken for superficiality. Humour for a lack of seriousness. Joy for a lack of depth. I was often told, explicitly or implicitly, that credibility required neutrality. Distance. Control.

At some point, I made a quiet decision.

I would not trade my aliveness for approval.

Today, I run my own coaching practice. I work with people who carry responsibility, ambition, intelligence, and often exhaustion. And yes, I laugh with my clients. I bring warmth into serious conversations. I allow lightness where it helps things move.

And I want to be very clear about this.

None of this makes my work less rigorous. Less professional. Less evidence-based.

Quite the opposite.

From a psychological perspective, enthusiasm and humour are not decorative extras. They are resources. Well-documented ones. When used appropriately, they support emotional regulation, cognitive flexibility, learning, resilience, and relational safety. They make difficult work sustainable.

Enthusiasm is not the opposite of seriousness.

It is often what allows seriousness to endure.

In a world that constantly reminds us of its weight, choosing lightness is not naïve. It is not denial. It is a form of courage.

A refusal to harden.
A decision to stay open.
A commitment to remain engaged with life rather than merely enduring it.

So if, as you read this, something resonates, let me leave you with a gentle question.

Where in your life or work have you been holding back your enthusiasm, your humour, your joy, out of fear of not being taken seriously enough?

And what might become possible if you allowed a little more light back in, not despite your depth or intelligence, but because of them?

Sincerely yours,
Dr Sophie

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Inspired by

Radio France. (2025, 26 décembre). Cédric Klapisch pour les 10 ans de LaCinetek : “La naïveté est importante, l’enthousiasme une valeur à sauvegarder” [Podcast episode]. Totémic. (https://www.radiofrance.fr/franceinter/podcasts/totemic/totemic-l-echappee-du-vendredi-14-novembre-2025-6642689 )

Martin, R. A. (2007). The psychology of humour: An integrative approach. Elsevier.