I read about this Hope Blog Relay that was ending today. It was started by Melanie Crutchfield at the start of the Olympics. She blogs about the relay and her thoughts on Hope and encourages other bloggers to do the same. I wanted to join in because hope is such a lovely word. The thing is, I’ve sat here all afternoon though and struggled to even begin writing.
When I think of hope and how it relates to me, my strongest pull is go back to when I first had my nervous breakdown. I was seeing a therapist at Nova University along with alternating between two psychiatrists (their policy for all clients at the time). I thought I would have to allow this post to focus on when Dr. C told me that I had to face that I wasn’t going to get better. She said that this type of depression wasn’t something that would ever really go away. She shared quietly that I would have these issues for my entire life. When I think of the word hope, it acts as an immediate trigger to when this woman took mine away from me.
She took it away for a moment.
The definition of hope is “A feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.”
Despite that experience, I actually hold hope in abundance. That day was really the day that I became addicted to hope.
So, even though Dr. C was technically correct, I never stopped hoping for improvements … I never stop striving to become healthier.
I have hope that my children’s futures have the right amount of struggle to build character, but be mostly filled with light, laughter, love and good health.
I have hope that all of my family, by blood or by love, experiences the same.
I hope to move away from this place that is filled with triggers of yesterday and unbearable heat.
I hope that the more I write, the better and braver I become and the more help I am to others.
I hope the politics of our country changes to become a place where honor, goodwill towards all and honesty is admired.
I hope that these shootings taking place all over come to an end.
I hope that we stop the hating, the bullying and this façade that violence is glamorous or something to be respected.
My hopes have evolved over time. As I began my own family, my hopes expanded and grew to unexpected heights, seemingly limitless. I proudly wear my Hope on my sleeve with no plans of getting over my addiction to it.
Now, that I have completed my leg of the Hope Relay, I pass the baton on to you. What does hope mean to you? What are your hopes?
xoxo ~ Melissa