Making peace with hope

Trigger warning: suicide, violence, emotional abuse, medical issues        

Don’t you love it when pretty much everything in your life is going haywire, but you still have to get up and go to work each day?

Hardship comes to us all. That’s life – right? But there are some hardships that come into our lives like a fire tornado, flinging us off track. Sometimes for the rest of our lives. Staying connected to reality in times like those is beyond difficult for even the most resilient of us. And even if what you do for a living is your passion and gives you energy (which is true for me), the fire tornado has a way of consuming everything, rendering your mind and soul to ash.??

How, while standing in the moment when you want to give up, do you decide that you’ll get up and go do your job??

Hope.

I understand that choosing hope isn’t easy. I have illnesses that tell me things are hopeless and that it’s time to panic when it isn’t. I have a traumatic brain injury that tells me I need to get out now, and there’s only one way out. And my PTSD is trying to convince me that even in a perfectly normal situation, I must once again fight for my life.

I’m exhausted.?

Hope and I are estranged. Perhaps it’s more than that. Hope betrayed me in the past. I clung to it like life depended on it – because it did – and the only one who caught my fall was grief. My brain tells me that hope is a liar, and the only one who will truly be there for me is sorrow. And life backs my brain up on that claim sometimes.?

But I’ve recently come to realize something. Being hopeful isn’t a character trait –?it’s a choice you make. And I’ve decided to choose hope. Not because it’s the best choice to make or because I’ve decided to love myself. I didn’t choose hope because I’ve decided to stay. I chose hope because it was the practical choice to make.?

Without hope, I can’t do my job. Without hope I can’t make decisions about my father’s healthcare, give my family rides to the store, keep my body nourished, be a somewhat decent friend, be a resource to others, and be a good tenant to my landlords. Without hope, I would not be functional right now.?

This isn’t a reverie about how lovely hope is. I’m not saying you should just roll up your sleeves and get on with it. For many of us, hope is an impossible choice. I’m also not suggesting that you should shove everything to the back of your mind and move forward by dedicating your entire existence to others. I know that isn’t practical, or even the right choice for anyone to make. I said I know it. I didn’t say I’m following my own advice right now.?

But I’m also not running away. I’ve been running my whole life (well, since I was five years old... so most of my life). I’m done running. I’m also not telling myself that everything will be alright. It likely won’t be. What I’m doing is shouting “parley!” and stepping onto hope’s ghost ship.?

If I wish to move forward, I must find a way to make peace with hope.?

Why am I sharing this?

This world seems hopeless to a lot of us right now. After nearly two years of being surrounded by death and loss, who would dare allow hope into their home? I think that if it was possible to put a hit out on an emotion, humanity would pool its money and take hope out.?

I also realize that without hope, there wouldn’t be anyone left standing.

So how do we make peace with hope? How do we heal this relationship and build a future together?

Like any relationship:?one day at a time. Every day I wake up and actively choose hope. I still visit the homes of fear, grief, and rage. But I don’t sleep over anymore.?

The first thing I learned that helped me begin the frightful negotiations on hope’s ship was that you can’t choose hope alone. I got help from my other archenemy – trust.?

I had to learn to trust people –?medical practitioners, some relatives, my friends, and even my coworkers.?

Especially my coworkers.?

And that's why this article is being posted on LinkedIn.?

This isn’t my first dark night of the soul. In one of my darkest hours, it was my coworkers who kept me afloat. They did it by never losing sight of who I am and constantly reminding me of what I'm capable of. They gave me space, they gave me kindness, they gave me friendship, and many of them showed me a type of unconditional love I didn’t know existed. And most importantly,?they trusted me. And never stopped trusting me. They showed me what it’s like to trust. I’d never seen it in practice before.?

They don’t know this, but in 2018 my coworkers saved my life.?

So as you can imagine, deciding to leave my job to go on a new adventure was one of the toughest choices I’ve made. But I was able to make that choice because a group of brilliant and wonderful people believed in me.?

I never thought I could make a meaningful connection with “normal” people. Trauma was also a personality trait in my opinion. And, as far as I was concerned, my personality would never match theirs. Turns out, I was just being judgemental.?

Work culture matters. It’s not a nice to have. It really can be a matter of life and death for some people.?

So here I am, once again making a trip to my summer home in Hell. And if I want to make it back some day, I’m going to have to trust a bunch of people I hardly know.?

During my recovery process from the brain injury, I learned that I a) need to learn to trust people or I’m going to f*cking die and b) you can’t halfass trust.?

It might be worth noting that my life advice to people is, “Love everyone. Trust no one.” Because that’s how I survived. But I now see that it won’t keep me alive. In fact, that mentality will keep me stuck. I was forced to be excruciatingly vulnerable throughout my healing process. Every mood and nearly every thought recorded by doctors multiple times a week so they can understand what was going on in my brain. It was awful. It was the most powerful tool I’ve received.

Trust looks like admitting to yourself that you need help. Trust is getting help. Trust is being honest. Trust is telling your manager what’s going on in your life. Trust is responding to text messages when people are checking in. Trust is being exactly who you are in all aspects of your life. Trust is being willing to find out who you really are.?

Trust is posting this kind of thing on a platform where all of your past, current, and future coworkers can see it. I’m not recommending that everyone should follow my lead and rip themselves open for the public to see. But if you want to, I think you should. If you get fired or not hired for it – the place is toxic and you should most certainly not work there. Trust is knowing the previous statement is true.?

The first step in making peace with hope isn’t saying, “I got this.” It’s saying, “Screw it, I’m going to put in the work and that means finding the right resources and deciding to trust.”?

A note on resources: the fact that life-saving resources are inaccessible to so many is a crime. Not the figure of speech. I’m painfully aware of how easy it is to say “get help” and how hard it is to get help.?

Ok, that’s the first step. How many steps are there? I don’t know. I don’t think the Buzzfeed format applies here.?

The next step? Do it again. Do it every single day. Every morning and every night. Sounds exhausting? It is. Having hope is a lot of work. Is it worth it? If you want to remain on this planet, have a good quality of life, and contribute to society – yeah.

After a while, you’ll find that hope isn’t a freeloader in your head. Hope is making space in your mind. That space is all yours. No one can take it from you or tell you how to use that space.?

Realizing that is the next step in making peace with hope. And trust me, as someone who had to fight hard to regain control of their mind after getting their head smashed against a steering wheel, I understand how hard it is to take ownership of that space.?

I’ve decided to own it anyway.?

Then (and I’m not saying this is the final step; you’re just caught up to where I am in this journey), step back into your power.?

My hopelessness was born out of my powerlessness. And there are moments when I will not have power –?like watching my father battle cancer. I have no power over cancer. But the day after I learned his cancer was advanced, I woke up, looked at hope, shrugged and said, “Fine, I’ll follow you.” Hope walked me over to my coffee pot, motioned for me to get it started, and thus showed me all the areas where I still have power.?

Funnily enough, I realized one of these areas is my mind. Another is my job. I have power over the way I talk to my friends, the people I choose to keep in my life and the ones I need to let go of, and the way I talk to myself.?

Having hope isn’t like a beautiful ray of light piercing the darkness. It’s not simple. But, what may have won me over is that choosing hope can be logical. It’s our lack of trust that tells us it isn’t.?

We live within a system that tells us there’s no hope. And then it confirms it for so many people through injustice.?

I was finally able to start making peace with hope by seeing hope for what it really is. Hope never promised that everything will be ok. It never promised that you’ll get what you want. Hope is simply saying, “There’s more than one way out. Gather the energy and find alternative routes. I can’t save you. But you can.”

Hope doesn’t hand us our power. It does hand us kerosene to fuel the lanterns we light to walk through the darkness. And, if you so choose, it can help you grow.?

You grow into the spaces it creates in your mind and it shows you the things you never knew you could do. My toolbox is now filled with gadgets that would make MacGyver jealous. My creativity has exploded and my shame is slowly melting away.?

Hope walked me to my core where the monster I’ve been running from lives. Turns out, she’s pretty cool. She knows a lot. She’s understanding, fearless, and confident in the value she brings to the world. She isn’t afraid to be vulnerable. She has superpowers that I’m still learning to unlock.?

Hope doesn’t pull you out of the cold night. Hope just walks alongside you. Occasionally, hope will make a suggestion like, “Hey, consider telling your coworker that you need to prioritize other projects right now.” Or even, “I know you basically hate me and we’re a work in progress, however, maybe others hate me too but need to go to work tomorrow. Let them know they’re not alone.”?

Right now, I’m in a ceasefire with hope. Hope might step aside at some point and let agony run the show for a little while. But now that I understand what hope is, and what it isn’t, I think this peace might hold.?

I also realize that I won’t win this war if I try to fight it alone. Which was a hard thing for me to come to terms with (even now most of my relatives aren’t aware of what I’ve shared with you in this article). Your allies are key – and you might find them where you least expect them.?

The people I thought I should hide the truth from turned out to be my greatest supporters. You also deserve that kind of support. You can get that support. If you don’t have that support, if you aren’t safe to allow yourself to have hope –?leave. I understand not everyone can just leave a job. But I want to remind you that you are allowed to leave. I’ve seen too many people live in abusive relationships with their place of work and believe they are trapped. Don’t accept abuse as par for the course.?

You’re not wrong. You’re not bad. You’re not a garbage employee and a terrible partner. You’re just taking on the Herculean effort of choosing hope.

And so far, hope is a choice that is keeping me grounded. It’s helping me not only maintain my commitments but also continue evolving despite the nights spent convinced that I’m going to run out of steam.?

Hope’s ghostly crew cackles in the night at the lies you tell yourself about yourself. Go ahead and laugh with them. And then go decorate your summer home in Hell. Another thing I learned is that summer homes in Hell aren’t found in secluded forests. One day I looked around my surroundings and saw that I was in a community. And if you take a stroll around your community in Hell, there’s a good chance you’ll run into a few of your colleagues.?

Sorry this wasn’t a “Top 4 ways to find hope when your world is falling apart and the planet is literally burning” piece.?

This is simply me saying that you aren’t alone. And as long as you set expectations, hope is a practical choice you can make. In choosing hope, I’m learning to trust the people around me. And most of all, it's helping me find an ally in myself.?

And now I’ll move away from spooky season and end on a note of gratitude. Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to write this, and to all those who made it safe for me to post it.??