The Gift of Hopelessness
The Concept of Hope
I’ve recently been exploring the concept of “hope.”
I often hear people talk about the importance of keeping hope alive, for “if hope dies, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.”
I remember vividly the most difficult, painful time of my life. It was almost 24 years ago, in October 1994. I had been living and working in Boulder, Colorado. The biotech company I worked for went through restructuring, as our lead product failed in clinical trials. While I was not laid off, headhunters were calling. I was romanced by a big biotech company in Boston. I had been feeling this itch for a change of scenery for a while, following a painful break-up.
I picked up my ideal life and moved to the east coast. I got involved with a man whom I thought to be my life partner, putting my happiness eggs in his basket. When he dumped me, I fell into a deep, dark hole of depression and anxiety.
I kept hoping that he would come back. I had put my happiness eggs in his basket. I wrote countless letters to him, hoping one of them would touch his heart. Every time the phone rang, I hoped it was him. Hope kept me alive during that time. I clung to phone calls with friends at home, 2500 miles away, who became frustrated with my inability to pull myself together. The story may sound trivial, but I was desperate—seriously depressed, not sleeping, and basically a “hot mess.” If I had let go of hope, I would have completely sunk. Hope kept me alive.
On the other side of hope was hopelessness, and there came the time when I had to let go of hope. I had to surrender to the pain of the present moment. I prayed to whatever might be there—God, the Universe, Divine Mother, an organizing principle—to give me faith and help me through.
That’s when everything changed. Ironically, through the man who dumped me, I was circuitously led to the therapist, and eventually to the first therapy training program, that not only supported me in sitting with the felt sense of pain, beyond the story but began my journey to my career change and my dharma as a therapist. Through a friend from home, I found Kripalu Center for Extraordinary Living (the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health). One of the most profound experiences was doing a silent meditation retreat at the Insight Meditation Society in Barre, MA, where I simply had to sit my dukkha, or suffering, with the support of the sangha.
I happened to move one block away from a pottery studio, where I started my path as a ceramic artist. I found new friends, my path with yoga, the beauty in New England, and new joy in the present moment. And then I moved back home to Colorado.
No one could “fix” the problem for me. It was only through moving from hope to abiding with hopelessness that I learned that the Truth was inside of me, and a whole new experience opened up. It’s not that the journey ended, there. My daily meditation practice is my guiding light.
An important caveat to my post: I was faced with a serious clinical depression during this time. While I personally chose not to go the route of medication, I certainly could have, or perhaps even should have.
If you or a loved one is suicidal, professional intervention, in the way of medication and/or inpatient treatment, is recommended. Get the necessary help! Sometimes medication is necessary to help with emotional stabilization.
Thank you for reading.
Linda
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