Hope is the default human condition, only altered by the willful cruelty or the accidental ineptitude of others. The loss of hope, in my experience, is a long process full of boredom, disappointment and seeming failure. A habit of regret. Like, reliving conversations when you're awake at three in the morning. Standing up to the bully who tormented you twenty years ago. That kind of thing.
Then of course, there is the negative influence that we allow others to have on us. We complain when others complain. We gossip. We allow someone else's judgments of our behavior or our lives to alter our course. We care what people think. We care what people say. We help those who don't deserve it. Those kind of things.
The ideal of hope is tied to many of our emotional states. A person often gets angry when in a situation where they feel as though they have little control, a loss of hope that control (falsely) gives us. Sadness, when we lose a friend or family member-- we lose hope that we will see them again. We lose hope when we can't find the right job. We lose hope when we struggle or fail on assignment, or when we do poorly at work. We lose hope when things go wrong, when many things go wrong, when the right thing doesn't work out the way we want it to.
With happiness, there is hope to continue being happy. Hope of opportunity. Hope of being. Living in the moment. What ever that looks like for me or you. Reading a good book. Hearing good news. Spending time with those you enjoy being around. Enchanted by the notes of a guitar. How does that ever change?
I've wondered for a long time if extroverts experience depression. Sadness for someone often in the company of others, living for the company of others, must be much more temporary. I guess, in a way, that I'm an example that they can. I have days where I am consumed entirely with energy and am full of wit. My partner has claimed that I make friends wherever I go. I sometimes take a boundless amount of joy in being around other people, talking with others, joking and making people laugh. I have days where I cannot contain the hum, the joy-- and it spills out of me. I paint. I write. I talk talk talk.
But, not always. For three years, almost to the day, I've been living as a diagnosed bipolar. I have many more days that are the exact opposite. Where, I feel lethargic. I feel nothing. I battle a stream of negative thoughts. I berate myself. I am irritable, tired and take joy in very little. Days where there is no hope.
I suspect that many mental illnesses are gradually onset by the erosion of hope. My childhood wasn't ideal. It wasn't terrible, but my early life was a near-continual erosion of happiness. That is the way losing hope works. Unless maybe, you witness or are party to something truly horrific-- like the holocaust or genocide or mass murder-- hope isn't usually abandoned all at once. It is a progression, with every new day bringing little or no change. Being the same or slightly worse than the day before.
But, abandoning hope is also lazy. It is easy. Accepting that things will be no better, and not putting in the effort to change them... It is the easiest thing in the world. It's why there are so many victims. Real change, positive change-- it takes time. It takes will. It takes energy.
Perception is everything. I learn this and relearn this all the time. The world is what you see. If you see no hope, it is dark and small. Full of cruelty and injustice. Now, this is partially true. The world is not entirely just-- but, it isn't completely devoid of justice. The world isn't completely devoid of anything,
So, starting today and starting every day. I will see hope. I will see opportunity. I will see change.
No comments:
Post a Comment