This Thing Called Hope
I used to gaslight myself
Hope. It kept me going as a little girl but effed me up as an adult. At least, until I learned how to plant my feet.
Whenever I felt misunderstood and unseen as a little girl, I’d run to my room and fantasize using hope. I built homes in LaLa Land to survive reality which was a great coping mechanism that I needed back then. Today, hope without discernment can keep you stagnant in situations that are no longer serving you.
a piece by black in colour
I learned as a little girl that I needed to earn love and attention. It was scarce and the bid of entry was performances. I learned the blueprint for love looked like cycles of abuse and intermittent positive reinforcement. Meaning, trained to avoid abuse and over function for breadcrumbs called love. Now, adult wise me had to understand the magnitude and power of the word hope. How to use it and not let it use me. I learned hope deployed without alignment to reality, can be the sword you fall on. Knives to your chest, inflicted by your own hands.
I learned of the dark underbelly of hope because reality was too cruel to handle and to cope, you must go somewhere within. I spent many months creating a place in my mind where memories ruminated. The place where fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, lovers, reunite and resolve. Where Self is reclaimed. Where closures are openings and endings become beginnings. Sounds nice, right? Except, this is a trauma response. It is called false hope or limerence. It’ll have you stuck on a bus stop called rumination with suffering being the only ride.
Okay, so now what? Well, step away from the fantasy and plant your feet. Accept the situation and ground yourself in it. Call back your energy and your locus of control. Name what is true and find the black and white facts by taking inventory of your actions and of others. Most of the time, there is a gap between reality and the story you’re running to live in. It’s hard facing off with yourself, because with that acceptance comes the grief we’ve tried to outrun. The work here is inviting you to look in the mirror and reconcile with you by reframing this experience that it was your teacher. That face off sucks, but self reflection is your gas for growth.
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