Hope, Resilience, Courage, Endurance, and Other Friends Along the Way

I’ve had 71 years becoming myself. The me I am now, is the same me I’ve always been, with a bit more spice and a dash of insight stirred in. As a teen, the descriptors flung at me felt hateful and wrong, an ugly pea soup green coat I couldn’t wait to peel off. We’ll skip right on by those inaccurate words for now, but I’ll circle back.

“She’s a strong woman,” “She’s patient,” “She’s ever so hopeful” and gosh darn it, she bounces back like a tennis ball thrown at a wall. Now I frequently hear “I don’t know how you do it.” Quite honestly, I’m not sure precisely how I “do it” either, but here goes.

Hope and Faith feel intertwined in a non-religious way. I walk with an inner knowing that good always wins. Light erases dark. Love conquers fear. Nature always wins, and kindness is the right choice instead of needing to be right.

Part of my faith in these things is science based, part is just knowing. If you are in a dark room and strike a tiny match from a paper matchbook, the small flame clears the darkness around it. Darkness does not erase the flame. If you’re in that same dark room and open the door to a fully lit hallway, the light tumbles in, the darkness does not fall out. If I relentlessly pull the grass out of my garden beds for years then one unhealthy summer I’m flat out and cannot pull the weeds, what happens? (of course, you know). The grass and other weeds fill the space I once made. Nature abhors a vacuum. If an old truck is dead and rusted through, sitting in the field behind the barn, over time a tree may grow up thru it and flowers will fill the wheel wells. Nature may take an indeterminate amount of time to rot the metal, but rain and moss will eventually win.

This knowing is a comfort to me when the world tilts and cruelty seems to be wiping out kindness. It allows me to sit and breathe without worrying the minutes as they pass.

I find that I hurry less with hope as my companion. Faith creates room for Hope.

Younger me held on with faith that I would grow beyond the taunting words. (and, surprise, I did!) Someday I would know love and grow out of my skinny, knobby knees, non-athletic form into a body I liked better. I didn’t know (way back then) that the comfort I was rushing towards was already available.

Idiot, weirdo, creep, geek, clutz, clumsy, ugly, stupid, jerk. I heard what they whispered as I passed them in the halls. I knew I was none of those words. They still stung. I knew myself as daydreamer, creator, national merit scholar, slam dunking the SAT’s, capturing A’s in all the classes I didn’t truly care about. I could sing and play instruments, was clumsy at dancing. I might never have dunked a basketball, but man could I slalom water ski for miles. (Yup, that’s me way back when..)

Hope is what I’ve hung onto when things don’t make sense. Hope is the wisdom that using my guts, my smarts, and durned stubbornness will help me to succeed. I am courageous from all that I’ve learned I can endure, and most of all I trust myself. I’ve crash landed with nothing after leaving disastrous marriages (yes plural), and I’ve been heart shattered by the thoughtless words and actions of others. I’ve traveled alone to countries where I couldn’t speak the language and I’ve made it back home every time. I wasn’t always graceful nor eloquent during those years but I “Got ‘er done.”

When everything has been decimated by the cruelty of living, I begin where I am and do just one thing. I’ve walked out of bad situations and been cursed with words telling me I would fail. “Just watch me” has been my reply.

Hope shows itself in actions more than words. I had second-hand furniture, mismatched plates and silverware collected from Good Will but I got up and swept the floor every morning. I opened the windows and invited in the breeze. I’d buy cucumbers and plant the seeds in pots that sat in the sunshine on my front steps. This is hope: new cucumbers would grow in the coming months.

Resilience shows up when you have hope as your companion. And endurance is the road I’ve walked every day. I felt flattened when I was fired from a job. Tears and anger came like they do for most everyone. I’d play sad songs on my piano and sing as I leaned into the sadness. I am not saccharine and nauseatingly Pollyanna about the world. I’m more the stubborn and tenacious type.

Hope is not the easy choice. Sorrow, hurt and defeat are seductive in their own sneaky way. Whispering in the background that “you’re justified to cry and be wounded, linger in this place longer, and you’ll receive pity.” Yeah, no. I would allow myself to fall into that hole for a very short time and cry myself dry. Then I would begin by asking “What now?” I’ve never wanted pity. It doesn’t suit.

Hope does not require proof. It’s a mind frame that is chosen. My question: “What now?” draws on the belief in myself. I can still be me while I do what needs to be done. Find a job? Pack up a box? Buy a bicycle instead of a car? I can adapt, so I trust myself. Mopping floors, cleaning bathrooms, emptying waste bins in a nighttime job while I established a new location with my psych office was not beneath me. For a couple years I sold high end women’s clothes on odd days during the week and worked the design crew after midnight, all the while seeing patients on the even days.

I’m still a learner. I find more tools as the days continue. I endure by leaning on hope.

Hope is a choice. I choose it because if this is all there is for however long, and I cannot change my circumstances (which I cannot today), then I choose all the feelings of hope that I can muster. Feeling hope is kind to myself.

I still distract myself when I need to. I pay attention to those I love (which always helps), and I choose hope. Over and over. Would you want to live with the alternative?