What's there to hope for? | LOH #156

That was what I wondered when I saw this week's Ladies of Hive question,

What makes you hold onto hope? Enlighten us on something you do to create a safe, positive space around yourself, to boost the belief or conviction to always look for the cloud with a silver lining, even if it means starting again?

I wondered, do I hope?. I like to think so. On a more general, abstract level, I hope for good, for finding a way out of the frightening mess that has become the 21st century. I believe in the good in people, and hope it persists. But that's a bit of an easy answer. What about on a personal level?

Truth is, the question hit me at a period in my life where I'm feeling quite fragile. Where, domino-style, my former beliefs about my inner world, and to an extent, my very self, are crashing down. It's a moment of great realization, but also uncertainty, which implies, I suppose, feeling a little unsafe.

All the more reason to ponder the great LOH theme, then.

Clouds with a silver lining, or just a little dirt in your eye?

I don't really believe there are. I think it's a mindset that might allow us to seek the good in a bad situation, certainly. One that's not easy to hold. It takes great determination and resolve to find good things in a sad or unpleasant situation, and can often leave you depleted.

I look back on some unpleasant situations in my past, and much as I try, I'm failing to see the silver lining. Yes, from where I am now, I can safely say I grew and evolved from that person. But I don't think those bad things were necessarily...necessary, you know? I know a lot of people take this view that pain is necessary to transform us, and I'm sure there's some truth to that. That being said, I'm not sure all the shit we put ourselves (and others) through really needs to occur for us to "learn the lesson".

That sounds a bit like fairytale thinking to me. The fairytales we read as children were full of bad situations that ultimately taught the protagonist something, and allowed him to grow. And I think in that allegory, we somehow bought into the myth that all bad events in our adult future would be there to teach us something.

I don't think that about the bad situations that were visited upon me, and much less of the bad things I brought upon myself. Quite the contrary, it's a constant balancing act of forgiveness and accountability to accept that I did some things I'm not proud of, and to acknowledge how fragile some of them left me.

When I look back, I don't think "I'm so glad this happened so I could learn a valuable lesson". I think "Man, I would've walked a little easier without this scar in tow".

But this is a post about finding hope.

Bizzarely enough, I do find strength and hope in knowing these things happened. What strengthens me is looking in the metaphorical mirror and knowing I'm not looking at the same person anymore. Obviously, on a level, it will always be the same person, and it's good to integrate all parts of one's self into the present.

But I look at myself and think how much I've changed, and that gives me hope. I was way more of a mess this time last year. Two years ago? Yep, pretty much. And so on, and so forth. What gives me hope is seeing that things could be bad, terrible mistakes could be made, but that I could still grow.

In a way, what gives me hope is the knowledge that if the worst happens, I can start over. I think there's a lot of strengths we don't take the time to acknowledge, and that's one of mine (one that I think many of us share, but similarly overlook), one I'm making more of an effort to acknowledge and embrace.

There's so much change that happens when you start acknowledging these wonderful things and strengths in you that you've so far taken for granted, or perhaps dismissed out of hand. Just like there's great strength in embracing and being mindful of your weaknesses.

Feels kinda safe.

I used to think safe spaces were bullshit.

I still do, to an extent. Funny, I was describing my dance practice to someone the other night, and immediately, I told them it was "safe". The word choice surprised me. Like what could possibly be unsafe? Well, several things, obviously, it's just something that past me would've never cared about.

Or rather, she would've been so scared she'd be laughed at, so pressured to be strong, that she wouldn't have allowed herself to acknowledge the need for safety. I'm more mindful of her now, as well.

For me, there's safety in little totems.

Safety in candles.

Safety in lamps.

Safety in plants, and flowers.

Safety in doorstoppers.

Safety in my journal, where all my thoughts go to be born.

So whenever I'm feeling unsafe, I light a candle. Or several. I write in my journal. I curl up into a ball on my yoga mat. I hold on to my little llama doorstoppers.

Obviously, there's many kinds of safety. Talking to someone you love. Seeing a favorite movie. Curling with a cup of tea, under your favorite blanket.

Oh, and music. I find great safety in music. Just this morning, I listened to my favorite live concert. Of all time. Ever. See, I got to feeling a little out of sorts yesterday. Again, a lot of myself that seems to have been hidden in some mysterious place is coming down at once, and it left me a little untethered. So this morning, I thought I'd do something to strengthen the walls a bit. Not to keep people out, but to give myself space.

I listened to my favorite concert on loud. Quite loud. And it was like they were singing a protective veil around me, to keep me tethered. To make me okay again.