Blog by Sholom—In my years of men’s work, there’s one four-letter word I’ve always carefully avoided. It’s caused me tremendous fear and has made my heart twist into knots. I’ve avoided it because of all it’s connotations and what I thought it would do to my life. If this word were to escape my lips, the terror is, it would change my whole being. My outlook on life would need to be different and I would be forever… Someone else. *Shudder* The thought of it still gives me some anxiety and I wonder if still, even today, it’s best left unsaid. How can I be me, the me I’ve come to accept and love, if I allow this word to become part of my vernacular?
Hope
Such a small and seemingly simple word I’ve kept at bay for as long as I can remember. HOPE. In retrospect it seems so silly and yet at the same time, I still utter the word with a hint of fear. Can I really be the same me as I’ve always been and ALSO be hopeful?
Some call me a pessimist. I’ve always preferred “realist-with-melancholy-tendencies,” but pessimist has worked for me. It’s allowed me to stay really comfortable. But I’ve realized I’ve been hiding, even from myself, who I really am with concern I’d need to become an outgoing, extroverted, smiley-smiley, life of the party, optimist. Yuck! Not that there’s anything wrong with those people, it’s just not me. (Please oh please don’t tell me I’ll be writing again in a year saying it IS me!?)
But it’s time I come out of my closet and face the truth. I seem to be an optimist. Hmmmm. Not only that, but I’m often hopeful things will turn out okay. They’ll get better and some may even turn out really well. I can both feel my body tighten up as I share this and I also feel the relief of sharing it at the same time.
I can both maintain the me some, including myself have come to know and love and integrate hope into my being. Me, the “realist-with-melancholy-tendencies,” being hopeful. For better or worse, it’s the hard times that have brought it out of me. I realized one day, I’m just not the “everything is horrible, we’re all gonna die someday anyway” kinda guy I thought I was. I was able to look at a situation and say to myself, “wow, this stinks. But I believe it’ll get better.” Right there, hope smacked me in the face and I couldn’t ignore it any longer.
A New Lesson Learned
Another glimpse into figuring me out. I’ve learned (again) that labeling myself and boxing me in isn’t the answer. It never is. I am the pessimist. And the optimist. I’m the realist and sometimes the opportunist. Yet I still get to be the hilarious “realist-with-melancholy-tendencies.”
Whatever it is, I am me. Today, dropping labels and the fear of hope, I feel more me than ever. It is my belief that those who keep going even when all hope seems lost, are really the most hopeful.