Hope

Definition of hope:
Hope [hohp] noun
1. the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best.

I lived a long time without hope. Part of me was afraid to hope things would get better to only be disappointed when it didn't. Part of me just decided hope was for other people, positive happy people.

Hopelessness is overwhelmingly sad. I remember after my mom died and I was filled with so much grief, heartbroken, lost and I did not think it would get better. I remember thinking I am 31 years old and I most likely have a lot of years left to live feeling like this. I will be honest I was overwhelmed by that thought and not sure I could stand living many years feeling that way. My children, as always, are what kept me going and still keep me going.

Things did get better for awhile and just as I thought I was starting to feel like I could take a deep breath again, my father became ill. I didn't have much of a relationship with him but when I was told of his cancer diagnosis, I knew I was being given a chance, a choice. I could either keep on with the status quo or step out in absolute fear and go to him. I decided to go to him, with no expectations other than knowing I had done the right thing for myself and it turned into the best four months my father and I had ever experienced.

I was 35 when he passed away and I was devastated once again. It was strange to no longer have any living parents and I so wished Dad and I hadn't waited so long to make things right. At the time some other things in my life were not going so well and I fell apart. I was hopeless. I tried to drink it away, eat it away, smoke it away and of course, sometimes it worked for a moment but it was just a moment.

Almost a year after Dad died, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. My body was just done. I was in pain all the time, facing a reality of having a chronic illness with no cure and a family that did not understand. I felt very much alone and hopeless.

Here I am at almost 40, still missing my parents, still have fibro, still have some issues that make life a little difficult but today I have hope. I will always miss my parents, no one can fill their spots in my heart and I don't want anyone to. I still have fibromyalgia and all the crap that comes with it, some days are damn tough but I have friends that get me through and I've decided that I'm going to live the best life I can despite it all. All the other stuff going on will work itself out, some of it already has and I know with time, it will be ok.

My life is far from perfect and I'm not one to be positive all the time no matter what. I don't sugar coat anything. If I say I'm having a rough day, I am. I have a temper and can cuss like a sailor when I'm pissed, not that I'm proud of that but it's the truth. I have social anxiety, hate crowds and I'm so terrifed of spiders I almost wrecked my car. I know that I am so blessed to have three, healthy children but sometimes I want to run away for a few days because they are all teenagers. I have a husband that I've been with for half my life who I love to pieces but dear God, he can drive me crazy.

With hope, I can see all the good things in the chaos, the grief, the bad days. I know that things will turn out for the best.

Comparison

When I read this statement, I had one of those lightbulb moments because this is exactly what I do. I compare my reality to what other people choose to show out in the world. I'm not comparing my reality to their reality. It's all about perception, how I perceive that person and his/her life.

I'm not someone who walks around and tries to make my life appear full of sweetness and light. However, I'm not someone who will tell all my shit to just anyone either. So if you don't really know me and what I face on a daily basis, you could easily think my life is just easy and good all the time. There's only a handful of people that I know in real life that I would be honest with if they asked me how I am. Everyone else, I will just give a smile and say I'm fine as I limp away, as my eyes are bright with tears because most people don't want the truth. It makes them uncomfortable and then they say dumb stuff, stumbling over words to try and make you feel better. I've found it's easier to just smile and say I'm fine, it saves them from being incredibly uncomfortable and saves me from wanting to smack them when they give me nervous, unwanted advice.

I have someone in my life who has to make it seem like her life, marriage and kids are perfect. Sometimes it just bugs the hell out of me, other times I feel sorry for her. I mean, if she's seeking perfection, I think she's going to be disappointed quite a bit. I will admit that I am naturally a negative person, sometimes I can be hard as nails and while I don't really like that side of myself, it has served it's purpose on recognizing the bullshit. And I'm just too tired to make myself be anything else than me. Keeping up appearances takes work, I find it much easier to be me with all my imperfections.

I find other people like me a wonderful breath of fresh air. I love a mom who can admit that her kids are total brats at times, that her husband is being an ass and that she just ate half a package of oreos.

I don't compare my life to others as much as I used to. More and more I'm becoming comfortable with the life I was given, with the choices I've made, with my imperfections. I think that comes from years and years of trying to be someone I wasn't, doing things because they were expected of me simply because I was a wife and mother and then I would fail at most of them which only made me feel worse.

Comparison usually leads to jealousy because let's be honest, when we compare our life to anothers, who usually comes in on the "less" or "down" side? We do, the other person always comes out better. But I bet if we knew the truth, not what they choose to show the world, we would see that our lives really aren't that bad after all.

I say next time we start comparing ourselves to another that we make a conscious effort to stop, realize we're only seeing the other person's highlight reel and comparing it to our reality, our behing the scenes. Then we need to be thankful for our reality, all of it because it's OURS.

Comparison is the thief of joy.-Theodore Roosevelt

Daffodils & Depression

This daffodil is growing in my sad and neglected flower bed. I love daffodils, they are simple but beautiful and a reminder that spring is on the way.

When I was a little girl I lived across the street from a house that was always vacant, well kept but vacant and in the backyard was a huge daffodil patch. I wasn't supposed to go there but I always did. I would sit in the middle of all the flowers and pick as many as my hands could hold. I got caught by the caretaker of the house one day but he acted like he never saw me. I guess he couldn't be angry with this little girl with wild blonde hair and a handful of daffodils. Every time I see a daffodil I think of that day and I wonder if the house is still vacant and if the backyard still has the big patch of daffodils.

Spring is right around the corner, I can see it in the budding trees and how the woods I live in is just a little greener each day. In the morning, the birds seem happier and louder. In a way, I feel like I'm waking up too from a long, hard winter.

I've been depressed for a long, long time. I knew I was on some level but until recently, I didn't realize how bad it had been. The last couple of years have gone by in a blur, not living just existing. It's hard to know when you're severely depressed when you're in it. At least that's how it is for me. Maybe because it's a gradual thing, I don't know. For me it took having my children become sad for me, worried about me, scared for themselves. That jerked me back to life quicker than anything else could've.

The stigma that I encounter regarding depression is what I allow to keep me depressed. I allow people to tell me to just get over it, to get a grip, to walk a mile a day, to be more thankful. I've internalized all of that, thinking I'm just a weak person, an ungrateful person. I didn't see that I was a person who needed help, love, support, encouragement.

I started seeing a therapist in December, I was so depressed and ill (I will touch on that more in another post) that I could barely form a sentence. I had all these thoughts and feelings jumbled up in my head, I didn't know where to start.

I've been going to therapy faithfully every week since then. Next to medication, seeking therapy was the best thing I could've done for myself. She's helping me process the junk, she validates what all along I knew in my heart to be true and she listens without judgement. She tells me I'm stronger than I think and slowly I'm starting to believe her.

Yesterday I came home from therapy and saw that daffodil, I noticed how yellow it was and I jumped out of my car to snap a picture. That's when I realized, wow Tyra, you're starting to feel better. For so long my life has been on auto-pilot, it's like everything has been a shade of gray. Now I'm seeing colors and actually hearing the sounds of life going on around me.

I no longer hide from certain people that I'm going to therapy because you know, it's not their life, it's mine. Yes, I am being treated for depression and I will have to be diligent in my treatment for the rest of my days. I'm okay with that, it's not my problem if anyone else has issues with it.

Sometimes you have to treat yourself with the love, care and understanding that you would like from another. Don't sit around and wait for it like I did. Love and value yourself enough to get the help you need. I promise you it can and will get better.