Many of you asked me to talk about finding hope, so let’s do that.
Have I ever told you that I really dislike the word hope in the context of anxiety recovery? In edition 49 of The Anxious Morning on March 10 I talked about how hoping can become a recovery obstacle. You might want to go back and re-read or re-listen to that one before continuing on.
Today I want to look at hope in two contexts. Hope can make an appearance at the micro level in a given moment where you are concerned about immediate outcomes. “I hope I do not die right now” is a perfect example of how we might incorporate the concept of hope into the anxiety struggle. But that’s not the context that I think matters most. I want to examine hope on the macro level in recovery.
When you ask me about finding hope, often you are asking in response to a recurring pattern of feeling, thinking, and experiencing. “How can I have hope when those thoughts/feelings come back and they feel so strong?” That’s not an immediate application of hope like trying to avoid certain disaster in the next four minutes. That desire for hope is a reflection on the assertion that negative experiences are disasters that cannot be allowed or tolerated.
“Sometimes its hard to have hope because I feel ….”
Correct. You feel. Sometimes you feel things that are very uncomfortable and unpleasant. Sometimes your feelings of self doubt or self loathing are triggered. Sometimes your fear of imagined health problems are triggered. Sometimes your fear of being permanently stuck is triggered. Sometimes your feelings of anger toward hurtful people are triggered. Sometimes your feelings of loss or grief over time lost in your life are triggered.
These things can happen to humans. They are difficult. Nobody likes them. Nobody wants them. They are, however, a part of being alive. We do not get to demand to never feel bad. I’m not saying that you are demanding sunshine and rainbows at all times. I don’t think anyone is. And really, could I blame you for wanting that anyway? What I am saying is that "hope” is probably not the right thing to look for in those moments.
What hope do you need? Hope that you won’t feel those things that you hate to feel? Hope that you won’t feel them as strongly? Hope that you won’t be triggered any more? In some respects, asking for hope in this context is like asking for hope that it will never rain ever again. That would be pointless because it will rain again at some point. So do you need hope, or do you need willingness?
Willingness? What on Earth are you talking about Drew? I need hope!
Well, hang on. Rather than asking for hope when you feel things you don’t want to feel - which is likely pointless given the nature of life and human experience - ask instead for an increased willingness to have all the experiences. All. Even the ones that scare us, bother us, disturb us, or makes us feel bad. Note that I am not telling you to WANT those experiences but only to be willing to have them because none of us has any choice anyway. So hope and willingness are not really related other than the fact that you might hope for the ability to be more open and willing, which I think makes a bit more sense and might be more productive.
“Today I feel horrible because I think of myself broken and unworthy” is an accurate, factual statement that describes a thing that often happens to humans. There are two ways to go once we make that statement.
The hope way:
“I feel hopeless BECAUSE I feel this now.”
This is where I most often see people asking me for hope or how to find hope. That’s a bit of a dead end because declaring yourself to be without hope because you feel is putting yourself in a an untenable situation. What’s the next step? Never feeling?
The willingness way:
“I feel hopeless WHEN I feel this way.”
This is still no fun at all, but this statement gives us room to work in. You can acknowledge that you are feeling NOW. You can acknowledge that things feel hopeless while you are having this feeling. But then you can acknowledge that feeling this way is going to happen sometimes, that you can handle it and move through it, and that “hope” is not required because feeling hopeless in a transient way does not equal being hopeless.
I am in no way trying to minimize what you’re working for. This is not the same thing has just feeling blue on a rainy Sunday for no reason at all. I understand the difference in degree that comes in the disordered state. So this is not as simple as “changing your mindset”, which you’ve heard me say many times. However, desperately seeking hope because you feel is part of the disordered state while recognizing temporary feelings of hopelessness while feeling crappy is closer to what a recovered state looks like, so I have to point it out.
In the end, if you want to hope that you don’t die during a panic attack, go for it. You can’t not hope that. I’d still hope that! But throwing up your hands and declaring that you have no hope because you feel things is totally selling yourself short. Instead, understand that feeling hopeless is part of this transient state, then remind yourself that some level of willingness to have all the experiences is required to get to where you “hope” you will get.
Sometimes when I write this stuff it feels crystal clear. Sometimes I feel like I am asking you to follow me blindfolded through a muddy swamp in the dark on a foggy night. This one feels a bit more like the latter, so if there are questions or I’m not making sense, you know what to do in the comments section.
I’ll see you tomorrow.
Have you listened to this week’s episode of The Anxious Truth podcast? Check it out out on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Google Podcasts, Amazon Music, or my website and YouTube channel.
213. A Few Words About Hope