It is a Sandra Bullock movie released in 1998 – Hope Floats – with a predictable plot, but not without its charms. A married mother of a young daughter finds out hubby is cheating and he wants out. As the divorce proceeds, she takes her child and heads home to a small Texas town, where she makes her peace with an eccentric mother and eventually takes up with an old beau.
The underlying theme of the film?
Even when you’re down and desolate, hope will eventually bubble back up to the surface.
You can – and will – reinvent yourself.
But real life isn’t a Hollywood confection. For most of us it’s a meandering path, littered with ambiguity and obstacles. Even if we fuel ourselves on as much positive attitude as we can muster, we may never entirely tidy up our messier emotions, package up our past neatly, or step into an awaiting future that appears to be tied up with a shiny bow.
Ups and Downs
We all go through our ups and downs. We take our licks, learn our lessons, and deal as best we can. Sometimes, there are casualties: trusting our own judgment, trusting the universe, hope.
These days, I do trust my judgment. As for the universe, it’s a little bit more difficult.
Hope? I hadn’t thought about it until the past six weeks or so – yes, coinciding with the gathering storm of empty nest – and I have been aware that it’s gone missing.
Recently, I read a post at Towards Joy, which put words to something I was feeling but couldn’t articulate.
Joy is living through a painful separation from her husband, and she writes:
… yesterday, I felt most defeated… because I thought that losing hope would mean I was giving in to a host of negative feelings…
… Last night was another long one… Somewhere mid-morning, after my alone time… something clicked.
I realized that even without hope, I could go on.
I was stopped cold when I read those words.
Attitude Check?
I’ve been living without hope, but certainly “going on.” I’ve journeyed through these emotional flatlands before, and the reasons are varied. Yet I was always able to persevere – purposeful, even if devoid of hope, because of my children.
Because they needed me.
But times have changed. I cannot escape the constraints of my current lifestyle, the transitional challenges of midlife, the strangeness of empty nest and pressing issues to do with money, and possibly dreams. I am aware that hope has slipped away, and while I’ve mourned its loss, I understand what Joy says so clearly: even without hope, I can go on.
- Hope may engender a positive attitude, but hopelessness doesn’t preclude a reasonable mood.
- Hope makes visualizing the future a more generous exercise, but living without hope doesn’t prevent expecting a future.
- Hope generates a broader spectrum of hues in the paintbox of possibilities, but the absence of hope doesn’t mean colorless days or the defection of options.
I operate within a narrower region, but I operate, and with considerable capacity.
Defining Hope
These days, my mood is measured (though I struggle with productivity); I go through the motions (with good days and bad); I examine my habits and I’m tweaking my rhythms. That hopefulness has deserted – for now – is surprisingly manageable.
The dictionary defines hope as:
the feeling that what is wanted can be had, or that events will turn out for the best
The verb “to hope” is defined as:
to look forward to with desire and reasonable confidence; to believe, desire, or trust.
Ironically, I find a spark of hopefulness in the clarity of Joy’s message – that living without hope is not the same as despairing; that we can manage through the absence of hope, and still cope, and even achieve.
And I find clarity in the definitions that I cite. They make sense in light of post-divorce life, when severely affected by a disastrous economy, when trust is lost in the institutions we are taught to believe in, when we carry no confidence that events will turn out for the best.
Yet even without hope, we can go on – making choices, acknowledging love, and taking each hour as it comes.
Perhaps you’ve proved your message: Hope bubbles up even when you least expect it, even when you’ve accepted its absence.
Maybe so, Kelly. Perhaps hope helps us ride out the toughest storms, and for as long as we have to. Especially when it comes to helping those we love. l know you know. And once through the worst of it, maybe hope takes a necessary hiatus. Not gone forever, but for awhile, out of sight and out of reach.
Palpable hope is a beautiful thing, but it seems to me is elusive. Not feeling it has never been quite the same for me as hopelessness. Just going on, just keeping moving, without despair, seems to me a supreme act of hope. Subtle hope, perhaps, but hope nonetheless. Hope that in putting one foot after the other, we will get somewhere, even if we can’t see where. Hope that that somewhere will be better or provide a view or simply be different.
I know life doesn’t always get better, but I hope that I live each moment as it comes, making choices that fulfill my most basic self.
Somehow this reflection on coping, even without hope, left me feeling hopeful – as though it’s possible to keep going even when we’re at our lowest points. That said, it’s one thing to keep going and another to live as we want to. My hope is that circumstances allow you to live the life you want. xo
You have addressed a really profound theme here – one I never want to look at. It’s so easy to distract ourselves with busy-ness, but when our focus shifts and we have to look inside and examine what is there … well, that is a bit too scary for me.
Your thoughts on hope remind me of what John Travolta said about happiness. He doesn’t strive for happiness anymore but aims for contentment, which is kind of like equanimity to me. I love this post so much because in a way, it mimics what I realized as a parent. I have been waiting for things to get easier and I finally got it that they never will. There is no “easier.” There is just this moment now and what may or not happen in the future and all of these things have nothing to do with how I want things to go.
Thank you so much for your bravery in addressing these things no one talks about! xoxo
You know Pamela, you raise another issue – the extent to which we can potentially influence that future we all may think will somehow “come.” Or not.
Some take a faith-based approach, in assorted variations. Others take a philosophical approach, including believing in destiny – the one that many of my French friends espouse – il n’y a pas de hasard (there is no such thing as chance) https://dailyplateofcrazy.com/2010/04/25/il-ny-a-pas-de-hasard-its-fate/. Some of us, and I put myself in this group, lean toward a belief that we can shape our future to some degree, and thus, planning is not entirely wasted, but that bad things happen to good people all the time, and they aren’t predestined, they just “are.”
In other words, we live with greater ambiguity – that there will always be events utterly beyond our control, which doesn’t mean that we can’t still increase the likelihood of good things – what we want to happen – with intention, hard work, preparedness, determination, and so on. And then, there’s getting lucky – which never hurts.
Hope or no hope, I still believe that we can influence our own lives, though we may not be the masters of our fate that some might think. And hope or no hope, we are always the examples our children are looking to, and best we remind ourselves that even when the going is tough for long periods, our kids are watching.
One of my all time favorite movies. Both the scene dancing with her father who doesn’t remember her and then the scenes where she is somewhat brought back down to earth from her high horse regarding how she treated some in school. When one is on top of her game so to speak, it is easy to hold hope for the future. It is when we need hope the most when it is most lost to us.
I still hold out hope, but as you say just because hope is ‘floating’ until we are once again on top of our game…. doesn’t mean we are lost ourselves.
Hope? I’m a pacifist working to stop wars, or perhaps even to stop war itself. It’s not that I’m necessarily hopeful, it’s just that it’s either that or wars will be the end of us all. So what needs to be done is clear, at least to me. Hope, whatever, but don’t mope around in the mean time waiting for hope to hit you in the forehead.
Seeing my Mom this week (101) gets me beyond the worry of hope (seems rather ironical to be worried about having hope, doesn’t it?) to Carpe Diem. My Mom’s memory is mostly shot, but she was so happy to see me that it made everything worth while. She will smile and hold my hand. Not much else, but that is enough. Carpe Diem.
Carpe diem, yes. Though I wish we could somehow join in a connective carpe diem, with a collective “aha” moment that we need to just “do it,” – the business of beginning to be more human with each other.
I’ll get off this soapbox (you’re there with me anyway); but I cannot help but contrast the Medicare-paid operation on your mother who is 101, with the Medicare-rejected surgery required for Kelly’s 30(ish) year old sister.
I am in awe… and just a little uncomfortable that you have seen the nakedness of me. You have peered into the dark corners and shined a light. I work with women all over the country, and hopelessness and the inability to express it, or admit it, ranks at the top of their secrets. “You teach what you need” has long been my motto. Therefore, as I am asked to assist others in their discovery of self, I take baby steps towards my own.
This piece is brilliant, and you’re… courageous. Maybe you will find hope in the knowledge that a single piece you write, changes lives. Thank you.
Kristine, Thank you for what you say here. I think we need to speak our feelings more often. I hope you will read Joy’s original post. She speaks from the heart through her own process of discovery, and her words have brought me clarity. Thank you for reading and being so gracious in this comment.
You might enjoy my Quotography choice this week. I’m posting it on Monday. It’s about hope.
I think those of us who were wrapped up (in a good way) in our kids have the hardest time with the empty nest. I miss them terribly. Even though we talk on almost a daily basis, it’s still much too quiet in my house.
Daily, Lisa? (Can’t imagine.) My kids call when they want, which is probably every 3 weeks or so, for 5 or 10 minutes. I admit, the sound of their voices is sweet music. Sweeter still, that they are so comfortable in their new lives.
(And I agree with you in what you say. It’s been a team of three around here for a decade. Quite the drop off the cliff, as that has changed so dramatically.)
Your post has left me speechless and filled in the gaps I, myself, could not fill..and I am ever grateful for your readers’ thoughtful comments. You continue to inspire and awe with your gift to spin complex, confusing thoughts into the tangible, written word.
“He that lives on hope alone will die fasting.” – Ben Franklin
This is an aphorism recently discussed (yesterday) with my junior level Honors English students. I think hope comes in the doing, in the doing of everything we do. It’s only when we live thinking about the presence of hope without action that hope does nothing, even exist.
Very timely remark, Tina. Thank you. I agree – action is essential. As Paul points out, so is consciousness and exercising our choices – for ourselves and in collaboration with others. As Joy points out, also by taking responsibility, being accountable, and thoughtful about what we do, and what is beyond our control.
I never had children, so I don’t fully understand ’empty nest syndrome’ though I hear enough about it to know it is real. I have been twice divorced and whilst I know about losing hope for specific things, about having lost a dream but not yet found another to replace it, I’m not sure I can say I’ve ever actually not had some kind of hope. I do know about just keeping on keeping on when things are too awful to think about and the sadness is just about too heavy to drag through the day, but I think I’ve always believed that ‘This, too, shall pass’. I believe that about the good things as well, so ‘Carpe Diem’ as mentioned above, is always a good idea. I think when I have no hope or expectation that someone else or the job or the whatever is going to come through with what I would want, I narrow my focus down to those things I can actually change until the rest of the world – or I – get it together a bit better. As a rule I hate housework, but there are times when it’s fairly healing for me! One thing is for sure, you write from your insides and that suggests to me that your own self awareness gives room for hope.
I always liked this one: Pray as if everything depended on God. Act as if everything depended on you.
What do you do when you don’t have the children? Even worse when you should have them, but you aborted them bc you were such a coward you let your family at 22 on my knees to God swearing I’d never again, and at 33 the man you loved and trusted more than any person were convinced like never before you would have children be so happy you feel like you should feel guilty for it, to have him threaten to leave you if you didn’t? And the woman he was cheating with, to be left just weeks after for her anyway?? Oh, and this is only 7mo after you barely survived your husband and best friend divorcing you for his ex-girlfriend. That’s only the tip of the of the entrance to hell I’ve been living in for 3 yrs. I can’t believe I’m posting this, and it’s about me!! It’s insane, and I keep feeling like I’ve been abducted, this isn’t real. Hope?? I don’t even know what that means. Function, not feel certifiably crazy, be able to not feel like a freak, have a job, not be terrified about basic survival bc you’re all you’ve got and I’d never ask for anything again I pray.
From the outside you’d never believe such a thing could be true of me. Sorry… it’s all just hitting me and for the first time in my life I don’t know anymore and I’m putting it out there to the world. Only thing I know is how much I hate myself and want to go back so bad I’d jump in front of a bus to have those children. I always used to know. How do you come back from this if ever?
Stephanie…in my own life, I think I am going through some pretty tough times. And I read stories such as yours and my heart breaks for you because their are women having to endure far tougher circumstances than me. When you have no hope and you feel like you cannot bounce back, you rely on others to have hope for you and to keep you up. If you have no one, find people…even online friends are a huge source of comfort. I don’t know how you, specifically, will come out of this. We carve our own path, we claw our own way out…so you seek out people who will back you, who won’t judge…who will carry your hope.