If you lean blue politically, the coming midterm election is about as eagerly anticipated as an appointment for a colonoscopy. And that’s not the only similarity between the two.

Much of the negative vibe is based on the recent historical record that a president’s party almost always fares poorly in off-year congressional elections. According to the American Presidency Project: “In the 22 midterm elections from 1934-2018, the President’s party has averaged a loss of 28 House seats and four Senate seats.”

And it can be much worse. The last time a Democrat was serving a first term like now, in 2010, Democrats lost 63 House seats and six Senate seats. President Barack Obama referred to it as a “shellacking.” I would suggest a slightly different term, which involves a foot striking a certain body part.

It is possible, though barely, to find strains of optimism here and there in pundit offerings for this year. They chiefly involve the Senate, where Democrats are defending 14 seats and Republicans 21.

Simon Rosenberg, a former Clinton administration staff member and a Democratic adviser, had this to say in August: “We’re ending this with momentum and the wind at our back, and Republicans are ending this with struggle. That’s why I’d rather be us than them right now.”

Well, I’d always rather be us than them. But I’m not feeling that wind he spoke of.

Consider the Senate race in Georgia, where the Republican candidate, Herschel Walker, has demonstrated a tenuous connection with concepts like “facts” and “reality.”

Walker, running in the state where he once was a college football star but had until recently abandoned, combines that trait with a rather remarkable incoherence in his public utterances. Yet, rather than being laughed out of the contest, he’s basically considered neck-and-neck with the Democratic incumbent, Raphael Warnock.

If elected, Walker would challenge Sen. Tommy Tuberville of Alabama – a fellow Republican and a former college football coach – for the dimmest light in the Senate firmament.

I think Tennessee Democrats would agree on who finishes third in that competition.

Speaking of which: I lost faith that any Democrat could win a statewide election in Tennessee for the foreseeable future when Phil Bredesen, a demonstrably qualified, moderate candidate who had twice been elected governor, lost his 2018 Senate bid by double digits.

I say that with apologies to my dermatologist, whose husband is the current Democratic candidate for governor.

As a resident of what used to be Tennessee’s 5th Congressional District, I take some interest in the contest for that redrawn seat. Are the numbers close enough to give the Democrat Heidi Campbell a chance against the Republican Andy Ogles?

I’m hopeful, but not at all confident. In 2020, The Tennessean reports, Trump supporters outnumbered those for Joe Biden by almost 40,000 votes in what is now the district.

Other factors also contribute to my general pessimism, including a large portion of the electorate whose economic indicators start and end with the price of gas at the pump. And who persist in the delusion of a “stolen” 2020 presidential election. They also seem comfortable with a party that has officially designated the Jan. 6 assault on the Capitol and democracy as “legitimate political discourse.” That one really hurts.

At times like these, I try to take comfort in the old Taoist tale of the Chinese farmer. Maybe you’re familiar with it: When the farmer’s prized horse ran away, his neighbors all came around to commiserate over what a bad bit of luck that was. “Maybe,” the old farmer said.

Then the horse returned the next day and brought with it three wild horses.

The farmer’s neighbors remarked upon his now incredible good fortune.

“Maybe,” the old farmer said.

The next day the farmer’s son tried to tame one of the wild horses, fell off and broke his leg. Those neighbors said what a shame it was to have happened. “Maybe,” the old farmer said.

Then the emperor’s army came through and conscripted all the eligible young men. The farmer’s son, incapacitated, was left behind. What a blessing, the neighbors said.

I think you know the farmer’s response. The lesson is, you never know what good may come of bad, or vice versa. So it’s best to accept both with equanimity.

I tried that old tale’s lesson in 2016, too. It didn’t work.

Joe Rogers is a former writer for The Tennessean and editor for The New York Times. He is retired and living in Nashville.