Hope

hope: verb
to want something to happen and have some reason to believe that it will or might happen

When did I lose hope? Did I ever have hope? What was I even hoping for?

I’ve been dealing with some serious bouts of depression since my first post. I feel lost, and alone — isolated.

I read where counselling might help, but I can’t really afford to pay someone to listen to my problems, worries and fears. So as my friends have stated, perhaps I’ll find my therapy here.

I have this hole in my soul. I think one of many missing elements in my life, is hope. When you have hope, you have a foundation for the rest of your soul. Hope is the light-switch of your soul. With it comes love, happiness, satisfaction, and of course, without it you feel empty, alone, unhappy, unsatisfied — depressed.

The first question I asked is, when did I lose hope? I think, I lost hope when my daughter moved out of my home, got pregnant and married at 18. I saw her bright future dim as I helplessly watched her throw what was left her childhood away. I know that sounded very doom-and-gloomish and I don’t mean for it to. I had just hoped to provide her with a happier childhood, one that she wouldn’t have been so anxious to leave right away. Instead I repeated the same mistakes my parents made. Not once but TWICE!! I was so involved with myself, I forgot what was important.

The second question was, did I ever have hope? The short answer — Yes, as explained above. What I didn’t realize was, we are hope. We are the hope of our parents, of the future. Hope fails us when we pin all that we are, all that we expect to be, on our children. I know that is a simplistic view. Hope is more complicated than that, otherwise what would childless people have for hope? Perhaps subconciously, they place their hope in the children of others, without the emotional investment that devastates us when we lose it.

My last question, what was I hoping for? My first response is “I don’t know”. But that isn’t true. My answer is so complicated that “I don’t know” is easier to say. I wasn’t hoping for just one thing, I was hoping for many many things…and by fulfilling the expectations of those “hopes” the cumulative answer would have been pride, love, joy, satisfaction, in my life, my accomplishments and in my child, the products of my life.

Please don’t misconstrue my words, I do have pride in my child and immense love in my child. The flaw, and it’s a flaw with me, is that the pride is haunted by disappointment. Disappointment in my failures.

A day late and a dollar short…

I have tried this before, back when blogging was still an infant.

I could have been in on the ground floor of this passing phenomenon. Instead, I find I am somewhere in the middle—and more than likely on the backside of that middle—of a fad.

Questions

What is the fascination with blogs? I have several friends that do it. Is it because of the social networking—another buzzword of the digital generation? Perhaps, it is a personal satisfaction in knowing that strangers, family, and friends alike, are reading your words, interpreting your meanings and identifying with them. Is it a narcissistic need to be recognized? Andy Warhol’s 15 minutes of fame digitized. Therapy? The world is my shrink.

I am asking myself why I am attempting it for the umpteenth time. Why did I not stick to it to begin with? I read blogs that are faithfully maintained daily, if not hourly. A friend told me last night that it is less work to tweak and tinker with the look and feel of a blog than it is to write one. He is correct and of course he blogs.

I read all sorts of blogs and subscribe to one or two. There are journals that record everything from weight-loss to genealogy. Diaries that record some of the most intimate of thoughts and the mundane of daily activity. You have industry specific blogs that tutorialize, review and debate everything from electronics to politics. The information flow is endless.

And that is it in a nutshell—information. We are beings that crave input and output–we thrive on it. Our needs go beyond the simple curiosities of trying to decide if something is edible or mate-able. We need to create, we need to digest the intangible, we need to leave our mark and blogs are just another medium. It allows us a stamp in the present and a place somewhere in the future, no matter how obscure.

I am no different. In a life full of missed opportunities, failures and regrets, I find it hard to focus on achievements. By posting my thoughts in a public forum, I hope to find souls that will empathize with me, discuss things with me, and validate my existence before that existence is no more.