Why is HOPE so important for humans? What about the state of being hopeful is needed in our world? How does HOPE influence our wellbeing?
According to wikipedia:
Hope is an optimistic state of mind that is based on an expectation of positive outcomes with respect to events and circumstances in one’s life or the world at large. As a verb, its definitions include: “expect with confidence” and “to cherish a desire with anticipation.”
However, my favorite – and just discovered – definition of hope was found in the default box at the top of my google search:
“A feeling of trust.” As archaic as that definition has been deemed, it is actually more accurate, for me, than any of the other definitions I found.
Yesterday, as I mentioned in my post, Sometimes Things Just Don’t Work Out, I started therapy. When I woke up to get myself ready to go first thing in the morning, I had a tangible sense of HOPE.
It was strong enough and so unfamiliar that it caught my attention. As I was sitting up, I actually paused and checked in because I felt “weird.”
What is this weirdness?
It was a mental question and when my Dudes answered back, “Hope,” I felt tears stinging my eyes.
Hope. It is a fragile thing and it is, for me, tied very tightly to trust.
So much has happened over the last three decades wherein my trust was broken. My trust of other people. My trust of my closest friends. My trust of my teachers. My trust of my parents. My trust of my religion. My trust of love. My trust of God. And, through all that, my trust in myself. I have had a lot of pain as a result of abuse on every level of the human existence and even though I have done so much work to heal the wounds and clear the residual hurt, my delicate “holding it all together” façade has been obliterated during the last six months.
In yesterday’s session, I had the experience of checking in with myself, closing my eyes, and asking the question, “Why do I feel so exhausted all. the. time?”
The answer came in a graphic vision of me being stretched in every direction. I was spread beyond my limits, the fabric of me becoming wafer thin, transparent, and even torn. I looked like a chiffon curtain that had been worn through in several areas and then stretched some more so that the holes were no longer circular but were, instead, wicked gashes.
I don’t know the exact moment that my hope went out the window. I’m suspecting that it was shortly after – or during – the very moment my trust evaporated. And looking back over the last four years, I can see several distinct moments where my already tenuous grasp on my hope was chipped further away.
However, because I had made a choice to seek help in an area I haven’t explored since 1998 – mental therapy with an actual licensed mental therapist (instead of a healer or a coach) – and to receive support in digging deep into what makes me tick, when I awoke yesterday, there was hope enough to give me pause.
My choice to actively take a step in a direction – any direction – that would lead to my nurturing was enough to reawaken my hope.
Interestingly, though, when I checked just now and asked, “Is my trust there also?”
I heard, “No.”
So, I have a glitter of hope, but trust, for me, apparently, is a much deeper issue.
I have hope that my trust will also be renewed as I uncover myself from within this sweltering SHIT Suit™ that has seemingly overtaken me and has absconded with my peace of mind. And as I hold onto my hope, the first step I will take will be in trusting ME.
Because, in reality, trust in myself is where this all starts.
Oh. Dang it! I had forgotten that again.
*sigh*
Well, now I know. Again. And “they” say that knowing is half the battle.
Perhaps I will win this battle for good this time.
Perhaps.
