I struggle with hope. I gave it up for several years. And it is not as hard as you think, you just remind yourself constantly that hope leads to failure and pretty soon you rely only on optimism, a belief that you can in the now, and self efficacy the knowledge and reliance on past performance.
Then I read an article about how truly successful people hope. Big deal, yes. You see the crucial difference between optimism, and self efficacy is a belief based on nothing, that you can do it, because you believe in you. Not in your past, not in your current abilities, not in anything from anywhere. It says you are good enough, you are smart enough, and you have enough connections to build whatever it is.
It says I can do the impossible, even when there is no bright side to look to, even when all seems lost. Hope remains because you are still part of the system. Because you believe, you can. That's not easy to reacquire once you give it up.
A few years ago I was killing myself. Everyday I would take a little bit more of my medication with the idea that it would reach a tipping point, and I would have an accidental overdose. Thankfully that's not how the medication I was taking works. (For reference it's a popular anti anxiety med, the specifics beyond that don't matter.) Unaware of this I decided one day that maybe it was within my power to change my life. It was a single jab from Hope.
"Hey," she said. "Hey, you, don't like you life, you change it." She then smacked me with the stick and said, "Aiyah, you genius, you find way. You better than this."
For some reason Hope to me is a smiling stooped over old Chinese-American woman, but there you go. I went in for counseling for several years. I am working on "keeping Hope Alive!", as it were. I have found this is a challenge as long as my focus is on death.
Instead Hope looks to the future. She pokes you with her umbrella, and points you forward, until you get up and move on, just so she stops poking you.
I don't try and go too far at first. But Hope keeps on poking me.
"Aiyah, keep moving." Hope says.
"I am tired." I say.
Hope doesn't care. She just keeps poking you, in that way old people can be so persistent. Somedays I try and look back. And I get a call from an old friend who is also struggling with depression. We commiserate, and I feel a little better. I realize that I am not alone. We make plans for coffee.
It's not much to you maybe, but it is to me. It gives me the strength I need to get back to work. To see past my own nose, and help someone else with their problems. Because that is what depression does, it keeps you from seeing past your own nose.
"Aiyah, I told you, it get better. You see." Hope says, and she smiles just a little wider, and smacks me again for good measure. "You keep moving." And I do, if only to stay out of reach of her umbrella. That thing hurts.
Good Journey my friend.
No comments:
Post a Comment