Hope is a Verb

There are times when it seems that hope is beyond our grasp. Times when sadness or

disappointment, loss or hurt seem too strong and consuming to allow space for hope.

When we have lost a loved one, we can feel lost and terrified, stuck in grief with all its

emotions, the ‘frozen present’. We can feel challenged to the core – who am I if I am not, a

partner, daughter, son; who am I without that friend; how can I live, if my child dies? It can

feel impossible, as well as disrespectful to their memory, to look ahead, to consider the

possibility of a future without them, to engage in life and hope for joy and happiness once

again.

When we have felt rejected by a partner, a boss, or a friend, it can feel like the rug has been

taken out from under our feet. How can we feel anything positive when they have rejected

us, betrayed us, devalued us? How do we believe in ourselves when it doesn’t seem others

do? It is easy to feel defeated.

When we have never experienced self love, the concept can seem illusive, even ridiculous.

The idea of hoping for something better, a better feeling inside, a better response from

others can seem unimaginable.

And at a macro level, when the world seems so out of control, when our trust has been

broken and ethics seem so absent, cynicism can seem the natural response. When we are

bombarded everyday with news of hostility, hate and brutality; when the world seems such

a frightening place, hoping for a better future can seem nonsensical.

Hope is an act of will, a little act of resistance to negativity, a determination to take that

step that seems so difficult, or to allow yourself to believe you could turn a corner.

Hope is a feeling we carry inside, but its also active. It can be deciding not to have that piece

of chocolate, or setting the clock to get up and go for that run, making that long overdue

phone call to an estranged relative, believing that you will, in time have success with an

audition, a job application, your search for a publisher; or it can be simply getting up out of

bed, and engaging with the day.

We humans are ‘intentional beings’; we are hard wired to look to the future. That can feel

very frightening and daunting, but it can also feel exciting. We can decide to feel a glimmer

of hope.

We therapists are sometimes described as ‘hope merchants’; we hold the fundamental

belief, that although loss and tragedy, disappointment and struggle are a part of life, we,

you and I, each of us, have the capacity and resources to heal, to strengthen, to gradually

allow in new possibilities.

As Leonard Cohen so aptly tells us:

“Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack in everything

That’s how the light gets in”