Hold Onto Hope

I’ve been thinking a lot about hope lately, and how easy it is to lose it.

It seems to me that at least 80% of every negative behavior or thought I have is a result of losing hope.

When I’m on a specific meal plan, I do well when I feel hopeful. But when I choose to eat something that’s not on the plan it usually isn’t because I want a donut but because I lose hope that not eating the donut makes a difference.

“Oh, $@#& it,” I say, sometimes aloud. “It’s not worth it.” Or, “It’s not working.” Or, “It’s too hard.” I lose hope in the process.

When I make a mistake and my internal monologue turns negative, it’s usually because I think I’ll always be this way. I’ll always make mistakes, I’ll never learn. I lose hope that I can change.

When I lose my temper and snap at my coworker it’s usually because I feel like it’s the only way, the only reasonable response. Being kind no longer feels possible or effective. I lose hope in what is good.

And I don’t have a solution yet. I don’t know why it’s so easy to lose hope and so difficult to hold onto it. But the more I think about it, the more interesting it becomes. I am not failing, I am losing hope. I am not foolish, I am losing hope. I am not mean, I am losing hope.

Is one perspective better than the other? Not necessarily. It’s kind of like saying a donkey isn’t an ass, it’s a short, cranky horse. But it feels helpful to me because hope is something I can look for. It’s something I can practice, like gratitude. It’s something I can notice when it’s absent and notice when it’s present.

Have you ever thought about hope in this way? And how do you hold onto hope?