Toe in the Water

Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness. – Desmond Tutu

I am a crazy romantic, optimistic, silly woman. My driving force is hope.  No matter how bleak, no matter how defeated I feel, I cling to the hope of tomorrow being a better day. Time, patience, understanding, and love are some of the ingredients required to have hope.    Fortunately, I possess all of the above and more.

I can be a very dark individual, swallowed by my own defeatist attitude, but something always pulls me back into the light.  I believe that something is hope.  I frequently reflect on the time when my mother was dying.  The majority of the health care professionals were telling the 21 year old me that I needed to be prepared that my mother was going to die, that it was hopeless.  Another doctor came to visit us and I told him what was said and he scolded the idea of someone saying that to me.  What he said next, I will never forget, “There is always hope.” and for a moment, my world stopped spinning out of control.   The others had been correct, but I think this doctor knew that I needed something, a sliver of hope if I was going to make it through this ordeal.

When I ended my relationship with John in one foul swoop, my friends told me to change the locks on the house.  I had taken back my key from him, but who knew if he had made a copy, who knew what he was capable of because the reality was, I had absolutely no idea who had been living in my house.  I called the locksmith and in a jiffy, the locks were changed.  He told me that I would be safe and to not worry, that I was an attractive woman and I would find someone new.  I giggled and for a split second, I dared to believe that there was hope that I would find a way to love again, to let someone into my life, my home, and my heart.  

When I knew I was going to have to find another job because my then present employer no longer had a need for me, the most unlikely of people gave me a sense of hope.  My brother who had always asked, “When was I going to grow up?” told me that I had nothing to worry about.   He said that he was proud of me because I had developed marketable skills and that I was good at what I did.  Someone who had taken every opportunity to put me down as a child, who doubted my abilities to be independent, was giving me hope.  That in itself was a sign that I was going to be okay.  

However, I recently realized that hope is also a drug I am sorely addicted to. I do my best to be the love of my own life, but I so desperately yearn for a soulmate that my mind will take just a sliver of hope and turn it into a full blown obsession. My heart soars with hopes of hearing from that special someone and when I do not, my spirits plummet like a ton of bricks. The worst part is, that if I were to receive another “hit”, no matter how small, I would be soaring once more based on a hope and prayer that someone out there is thinking of me. Even if that someone isn’t my soulmate, just knowing that someone, somewhere thinks I’m worthy of communication…it’s a sick and twisted addiction I have.

I am blessed to have so much love in my life and even though I am an emotional fool, there are those who support my feelings and keep me safe as I ride my roller coaster of emotions.  Oddly enough, I am the one that gives them hope.  To see someone be so battered and broken rise from the ashes like the phoenix time and time again, gives them hope when it is their turn to experience the darkness, that they too will return to the light.

As of late, I have been facing a number of challenges. I do my best to “change my vibrations” by listening to upbeat music, watching comedy specials and today, I bought some lottery tickets. I went to the local gas station and said, “I would like to buy a lottery ticket please.” When I was asked which one, I had no idea so I bought one of each. I got so emotional thinking, “Wouldn’t it be something if I won!” I called a friend and left her a voicemail that I was taking a chance, remaining hopeful that I would have a happy ending, not like the kind in a massage parlor, but a real happy ending. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I drove through the night to another friend’s home. I was crying, but I was hopeful.

This friend finds it challenging to be supportive of my work, but her son was very helpful indeed. We chatted about all that is happening in the media and how podcast are on the rise. He gave me lots of information to follow up on and his enthusiasm for the industry gave me hope. It gave me hope that I too may be able to embark on this rise and put something out there that someone would actually listen to and enjoy. Once again, my therapist is urging me to take this next step and I am working on it. I’m not certain how it will all play out, but I am hopeful that I will produce something of worth and make a contribution to the world of podcasting in the near future.

I may not be worldly or highly educated, but I have stories to share about my losses and triumphs and my continual rises from the ashes. I feel that hope is like taking a chance or to be willing to try again by placing one toe in the water and testing it. The action of a toe touching the water causes a rippling effect that continues to grow. The result of this action is that the still water is now transformed by the action. Ripples cascade out from where the toe went in and those ripples go on and on for as long or as far as they are able. Touching places that are unpredictable and often unforeseen. That, is hope and that is what I am trying to do by writing my little blog or starting a podcast, that maybe no one is reading or hearing, but then again, maybe someone is.