Friday, December 23, 2016

Addicted to Hope

Fog, 2016

I woke up thinking about expectations and disappointments today. Letdowns have always been and always will be a part of my life. Why? Because I'm addicted to hope. It's nothing new. I don't know if I've read too many books, seen too many movies... It's everywhere, really. Plays, musicals, television, blogs, podcasts. A conflict is introduced. A resolution closes things out. And even though the resolution isn't always positive, it can be a letdown, there will be another conflict, with a better resolution. There always is. But long before most of these things were part of my life, I was hopeful, a believer.

When I was 4 years old and in kindergarten my teacher told our class we were going to China. I was absolutely ecstatic. I firmly believed her, obviously. Why would she lie to us? I rushed home to tell my mother. When she thoughtfully tried to manage my expectations, I was appalled. She wasn't there! She didn't know! We were going to China! When the day arrived and we sat on the floor eating bowls of poorly cooked white rice I was shocked, and then deflated. I'd never really liked that teacher, but this seemed a particularly cruel joke.

Oh, I forgot to mention that on my first day of kindergarten, my introduction to the whole concept of school, when most of the children were crying, I was excited to visit this new place and meet new people and start learning. Hopeful. Okay, back to the story... 

I don't remember if any of the other children were upset or even aware of what I saw as profound disillusionment. I don't think so, because I recall feeling very alone. But I did not give up on teachers. Although this teacher was an utter disappointment, due to her lie (I know the word lie seems strong, but I was a very serious child) about China, the way I feared raising my hand and asking her if I could go to the bathroom during Weekly Reader, and an array of other unfortunate events, I did not resolve to distrust all teachers.

As it turns out, the next teacher I met, my first grade teacher, remains my favorite teacher. Because that's the way it goes. When times are tough it means something better is around the corner. This too shall pass. Right? I don't really know how to live another way. The bus breaks down. There is the pleasure of unexpected downtime. A bad breakup? Love will come again. Even when something is so tragic I know the only thing that will aid healing is time, no matter how slowly it seems to move, time does pass. And even if it seems implausible, I know, deep down, joy will eventually return to my life.

This coping mechanism has carried me far, but it began to falter this year. I've never been an avid follower of politics or current events, but I did keep informed about most major world issues, until I snapped in early November. I reached capacity. Part of the reason for this is what the rapid advance of technology has made available to us, at such incredible speed, and the other part is the number and intensity of actual events taking place. Since snapping I have avoided radio, newspaper, online news, talking heads of all sorts, and people who focus their attention in these areas.

I've instead gravitated toward nature, albeit mostly urban nature, literature, beauty, peace, and the belief in the capacity for human kindness that I know still exists. I haven't decided if this is a sustainable way to live my life. At times it seems I'm avoiding reality, or is it just another version of reality? I don't know. I'm sure there are many wise arguments against living this way, but it is where I am at this moment.

10 comments:

  1. It's another version of reality, and a good one. I enjoyed reading this--cheers to "nature...literature, beauty, peace, and the belief in the capacity for human kindness..."

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  2. HI Denise, I completely understand, the constant that Hope plays throughout life, despite any and all adversity and the snapping. You are not alone in these complex feelings. I straddle my need to know what is unfolding in national and world events with my need to protect my psyche from the gush of mis-dis-and quasi-bonafide information. We must, in the face of everything, stay in the creative flow and be true to ourselves as artists. This does bring good into the world, I do believe it. Stay strong and find peace joy and beauty where you can. And keep bringing all those things, through your many talents, into the world, too. I write these words as much as a reminder to myself---times are going to get uglier as the transition of power takes place. Hope is what will keep open the channels for the other benevolent forces. Take heart.

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    1. Thank you, Nancy. You know I always appreciate your wise words. They are especially comforting as we near the end of this crazy year and contemplate the next.

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  3. I'd meant to comment here a week ago, and then, you know, life got away from me. But two things I wanted to say were, first, that my husband had a very similar thing happen in elementary school with a teacher who thought she was being clever and instead let down a whole lot of kids who trusted her. So reading your story really resonated. Adults really need to *think* when they're talking to hopeful kids... And, second, I completely get what you're talking about and I think you're doing the right thing. Nature, art, beauty and kindness are the essential refuges in times of trauma. Removing yourself from the daily onslaught is a perfectly reasonable idea. Take care of yourself. xx

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  4. I liked that story about your kindergarten teacher. A lovely reminder of how children take things literally and there's a brutal honesty and openness in that!

    And I liked your strategy - I think it's actually healthy to do that every now and then when the world threatens to take away your hope.

    Take care.

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    1. Thank you, Nicole. I hope your year is starting off well.

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  5. I finally was able to read your words here. I'm not sure that I've ever been quite as hopeful as you (it's that serious child, serious adult thing) but I've also never faltered as I have since the election. Although it started long before... Even today, I don't want to be online because I'm so tired of seeing the hate, the intolerance, and the distortion of fact that the internet (among other things) has made acceptable. I don't know where my little online space fits into this anymore because I keep asking 'in all that is going on, do we have a right to care about those little things...?'. The answer is of course yes, but still it nags at me when I think I want to post about knitting mittens. I'd love to know how you are handling it all now...when weeks have passed and there is no sign that things are better... For me, I finally chose a word for the year...TRUST. As in trust in myself. Because at the end of the day, no matter what else is going on in the world, I need to be true to myself. Wishing you a hopeful 2017 and looking forward to our continued friendship in whatever form that takes.

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    1. Although I'm still practicing what one might call ostrich mode, shocking bits of what's happening out in the world still seem to find their way to me. I think my hiding has made me even more sensitive. When the hate does get through to me, it feels even more harsh than it did before. It's difficult to believe all of this is real and not a very strange dream. Each day I try to think about what is good in the world. There is good. On Monday I watched a cook leaving the Chinese restaurant where I was eating dinner after finishing his shift. He gently passed his hand in front of the space heater near the front door before leaving, like he wanted to take some of that warmth with him, out into the cold night. I don't know if I'm able to relay what I saw in the restaurant here in this little box on my screen, but it was beautiful, to me. The world needs your post about knitting mittens because it needs to remember what beautiful looks like. I too look forward to our continued friendship, Rachel. Take care of yourself.

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