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I'm not exactly sure when I realized I'd become a pessimist.

Maybe it occurred when I dined at a Spanish tapas restaurant with some single friends and we decided to order dates wrapped in bacon. After the waiter left, I quipped, "Guess we single girls gotta get dates wherever we can."

Or when a guy who showed romantic interest in me turned out to be married, and I told a friend, "It figures. I knew there had to be something wrong."

Or when I started saying mean things to my TV whenever ads for match.com or eHarmony came on.

I don't know which of these—or several other—thoughts and comments tipped me off that I'd become the Eyeore or Chandler Bing of singledom. But I knew the pessimism had to stop.

Though my attitude startled me some, I could see how I'd gotten here. I'd taken my self-deprecating humor too far, and it had poisoned my attitude. I was beginning to believe the sad-sack singleton routine that always earned me a few laughs—even, ironically, when there was romantic activity in my life.

Also, as a single who wants to be married, I find it easy to be keenly aware of what isn't instead of what is. Apparently, in keeping with biblical admission that "A hope deferred makes the heart sick" (Proverbs 13:12), my deferred hope for a spouse was making my heart pessimistically peaked. And it wasn't just affecting my single life; I found myself saying "of course" whenever anything unfortunate happened—a paper cut, a parking ticket, a pen-stain on my newly dry-cleaned pants.

So I set out to make some changes, first and foremost with an honest prayer: "God, I'm sorry I've become such a whiner. I know you're the only one who can truly change a heart, so if you could help melt some of the negativity that's infecting mine, I'd be really grateful."

I sensed him answer on an excursion to the lake near my home soon after. There was a girls' track meet at the high school next to the lake. So as I sat on a bench reading a book, all manner of young, fit runners trotted by, warming up for their events. I wanted to wish them well, but my mind was mostly filled with snarky thoughts about their pre-pubescent bared midriffs. Just wait till you're in your 30s, girls, I wanted to say as I pulled my shirt down farther over my somewhat squishy mid-section.

But on my walk home, I rounded a corner and saw a woman pushing what looked to be her mom in a wheelchair. We three exchanged smiles, but inside I felt shame. Here I'd been jealous of the young firm bodies when I should've been thankful for my two healthy legs. I'd been seeing the glass half-empty; I felt God nudging me to start looking at the half-full part.

That became my new mantra: "It's half-full, Camerin." Sometimes, in moments of self-frustration, it became, "It's half-full, dang it!" But the meaning was the same—look intentionally at what is, at what's good.

I also began making myself chase each negative thought or comment with two positives. When I got a flat tire on the way to work one unseasonably cold Monday morning, my third flat in a year, I blurted out, "Of course this is happening to me." After dialing roadside assistance, I remembered my new mantra and forced myself to look on the bright side. "At least this isn't happening in winter with a foot of snow on the ground," I said aloud in the frustrated silence of my car. "And I'm grateful this didn't happen when I was driving alone on the highway last night." In speaking these words, I felt something deep inside me begin to unclench.

As I waited for the flat-fixing guy, I exhaled deeply and took in my surroundings. I'd pulled over in a quaint neighborhood during that perfect time of morning when the sun is just illuminating the first buds of spring. An older gentleman was out walking his cute little dog, and a brightly colored bird was filling the air with song. I exhaled again and reveled in the half-fullness—the chance to enjoy this serene morning moment.

I called roadside assistance again a half hour later to see why I hadn't received my typical confirmation call and ETA for the tow truck. When the customer service rep told me they had no record of my earlier call, the birdsong faded quickly and I may not have been my most warm and friendly self on the phone. But, I didn't bite the guy's head off. And I didn't lapse into "of course this happened to me" discourse when I told coworkers about my stressful morning after I finally arrived at the office.

OK, so I didn't handle the situation perfectly. But it was a start.

In the following weeks and months, I kept up the "It's half-full" mantra. Every now and then I jotted this truth on a Post-it on my desk or fridge or mirror. Sometimes when I was driving to or from work and felt a pessimistic funk coming on, I'd switch off the radio and start naming aloud things I'm grateful for—blue sky, meaningful work, a car that runs reliably (most days), that new bed of flowers right there, yummy leftovers awaiting me in my fridge.

As time went by, this practice got easier. The thanksgivings came more quickly. Naming the good felt less Pollyanna. The funks got fewer and farther between. I started changing my defeatist "Of course!" at unfortunate incidents into the beginning of positive sentences. As in, "Of course!" (slight pause to catch myself and change my tone) "… one upside of this is that I'm going to the dry cleaners again tomorrow anyway."

Somewhere in this three-steps-forward, two-steps-back process, I went from half-fullness of joy to the fullness of joy mentioned in Psalm 16:11, "You will make known to me the path of life; in your presence is fullness of joy" (NASB).

And some days, when I really get on a grateful roll, I feel my cup actually overflowing with God's goodness and love (Psalm 23:5-6).

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Read more from 'Single Minded'

Table For One: The Savvy Girl's Guide to Singleness by Camerin Courtney You'll love this book by the Singles Channel's own Camerin Courtney! It's an honest and upbeat look at the emotions, expectations, joys, frustrations, and privileges of the single life, that will delight and inspire you! Buy it today!