Pollyanna and I would never have seen eye-to-eye.

If she bounded up to me now, squealing that I should look on the bright side, I’d find it difficult to be polite.

I’m less like Pollyanna and more like Edna Mode, the forthright and petulant superhero costume designer from The Incredibles.

My standard response to difficult circumstances is dark humour, with a sprinkling of rage.

I blame nature and nurture. My dad could make us laugh, proper belly laughs, through the darkest of circumstances. Whether through genetics or mimicry, I do the same.

It’s a reflex rather than a choice. I’m under no illusion that it’s any healthier than Pollyanna’s blind optimism.

While I’ve always seen Pollyanna and Edna as polar opposites, believing that happiness and hardship could never co-exist, I’ve recently learned that sometimes joy can ambush us.

I swam through the winter of 2023. Always at the same tidal pool, always as close to sunrise as possible, and always accompanied by the same friends.

It’s two years later, and while we don’t do it as frequently, we’re still swimming.

It started with a memorial day we held for my husband. The plan was to start the day at sunrise on his favourite beach, where I’d dunk myself in the cold water.

Approaching the ocean that day, wild grey sky met wilder grey sea, making it impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

The wind, which seemed to be coming from all directions at once, blew the rain sideways.

It felt outrageous to be peeling off layers of clothing on the sand, preparing to swim.

The weather and the occasion pointed to a bleak experience, but my friends had other ideas. Before I knew it, they were shedding clothes alongside me and holding my hands as we approached the waves.

Not long after that experience, I stumbled on an article about the possible benefits of cold-water swimming.

Living in the UK, the writer was certainly swimming in colder water than I was, but there was enough of a parallel for her words to grab my attention.

She started swimming to get over the death of her father as well as a particularly difficult break-up.

Just like I did, she discovered some surprising side-effects. It was a natural mood booster, and she felt more energetic after a swim.

There are other potential benefits, including reducing inflammation and lowering stress levels.

But rather than these individual advantages, it was the experience as a whole that captivated me. The way cold water demands your attention, leaving no space for sadness or grief or anything but the feeling of water on your skin; the unrivalled beauty of a sunrise as you’re mid-swim; the pleasure of chance meetings with others who are drawn to this.

The past two years have changed me. My inner Edna Mode would argue that I’ve become a gloomier version of myself.

But I think Pollyanna was onto something. Joy can be found in the midst of suffering. I’ve made some unexpected friendships, been accepted into a family that treats me like a sister, and became a sunrise-and-swimming addict.

Sometimes, you don’t have to search very hard to find the “good” in difficult times.