"Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up."
~ Anne Lamott
"Hope contains within it the powerful notion of potential. Although we cannot yet see the towering majesty of the oak tree, we see in the acorn our hope for it. Just so with relationships: We intuit a connection and begin to imagine the future we've always hoped for. But how can we nurture our hope amid a sea of doubt, cynicism and pessimism?" This question, posed on Dr. Katehakis's site centerforhealthysex.com, brought to mind something said to me in graduate school. That the job of a therapist is to hold the hope for a client when they have not yet been able to have it. But some people are fearful of hope. Those with histories of trauma can feel that hope has been cruel. That time and time again as children they may have dared to hope that things would improve, only to have them worsen. Some people need to be shown how to not dash hope, how to not kick it right in the teeth when it starts to show up.
I have a not so flattering story about crushing hope when it arrives. Years ago when I was still young in my marriage I came home one day to see my beloved planting rose bushes in our front yard. He smiled proudly and announced that he decided that instead of giving me roses for Valentine's Day ( a few days away) that he would plant me rose bushes instead! He waxed on about how he knew how much I loved flowers but of course cut flowers die, and how he planted the bushes along our front walk so that every day as I walked out the door I would see the evidence of his love and every day as I came home I would see it again. And completely uncharacteristic of my discrete, shy, introverted partner, he even went so far as to say that he wanted all of our neighbors to know how much he loved me and so he planted them in the front yard! Any normal person would have jumped for joy, accosted him with kisses and praise and swooned from the overflowing romance and sentiment. Not yours truly. Being one of those people who, as Dr. Stan Tatkin says, is "allergic to hope", I stood there silent. After a tense minute I said, I kid you not, "do they smell? Because I really only like roses that smell." I watched the blood drain out of his face. And yet I pressed on, driven by deeply embedded memories of being disappointed as a small child. "I mean, a lot of roses these days, they don't smell. They breed the smell right out of them, which I really don't understand because that is what a rose is supposed to do! Smell!" I had a classically exasperated look on my face, standing hand on hip. Every time I recount this story I assure you I cringe. But back then I simply had no idea that I was a hope assassin. Highly trained in the art of killing any small green shoots of hope that might dare to peak out from the desert of my soul. My husband, in his final rally, tried again regain his ground. "I, I..I researched them to make sure that they were drought tolerant (we live in Texas) and disease resistant and all of that". I stood silent, unmoved by his pleas. Like any real person, he snapped. "Nevermind!" he said. He grabbed the remaining plants and threw them in the back of his truck. "I'll pull the rest out tomorrow! You are impossible!"
I tell this story not to make myself look bad (although undoubtedly it will have that effect), but to show how it can look when someone has become so afraid of hope, so afraid of being truly loved, that they will literally fight against it. That they will crush the hope offered to them and grind it into the ground, all the while bemoaning how no one cares about them. I see this when clients tell me "I know you say you care, but you are paid to care." They need to find a way to reject what is being offered, which is compassion, connection and genuine affection. My pithy reply is that you can pay me to keep this seat warm for an hour but you cannot pay me to actually care. The caring is not for sale. Which is true.
Dr. Katehakis noted that "According to the Ancient Greeks, the gods punished humankind by stowing all evils in a box for curious Pandora to open, as they knew she would, and thereby unleash those miseries upon the world. After the evils took wing, all that remained in the box was hope. But how can mere hope defeat everything that boiled over from that unholy box?" Indeed. How can hope undo all that we have experienced?
We test. I often tell my new clients in their first weeks of therapy "you will spend the next year testing me because relationships have, in the past, been unsafe. And that is OK. We need to allow the most deeply hurt parts of yourself to look for the cracks in the foundation of this new relationship. Since I know that you and I are not perfect there will be cracks. But we will assess them together and acknowledge them together and I will hold the hope for you that this relationship will be different. You will not need to ignore the cracks, walking around them pretending you don't see them. You don't need to worry that if you point out the cracks I will fly into a rage or shame you for showing them to me. We will notice the cracks together and acknowledge the difficulty of creating relationships between two human beings. We will work together to decide what to do about those cracks. And you will begin to have hope that relationships can support you and that you can truly be yourself in them.
Many clients test me, just as I tested my poor husband many years ago (and by the way he stuck it out, thank goodness, and is still here putting up with me. And I hope I have learned to be more gracious about his shows of love!) My hope is that through a process of them testing me, and seeing that they are not being rejected, they can begin to nurture that small flicker of hope. And over time that it can grow stronger and stronger.
As Dr. Katehakis describes, "relationships require the tremendous resilience born of hope. When we stay unconditionally willing to remain teachable despite prior trauma, we're using hope as a healthy tool to sow the seeds of happiness... When we stop fearing change and instead embrace it, we grow mentally, physically, spiritually...just as we had hoped".
Indeed. Not a journey that is easily taken, and certainly not a journey that is devoid of fear. But in my experience of nearly a quarter of a century, a journey that ends with more riches than people ever dreamed possible.
Wishing you hope in all that you strive for,
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