When hope hurts

We all have times when the things inside us rise up and try to take control. I’m not immune to it. It actually hit me recently. I could feel it coming and wrote lyrics about it. I’ll share those at the end if you’re interested. This got me thinking about a recent phone call, though.

A man I know, who was one of the homeless youth I’d worked with in the past, called me. He’s been off the streets for 10 years, he’s married, has a 2-year-old son, a good job. He’s a success in every way.

Yet, he was in the same place I was just days ago when he called. He asked me something that’s been rolling around my head since then.

What do you do when hope hurts more than giving up?

If you’ve read my writing here, you know I don’t understand suicide or giving up. I do get how people can get there, though. I’m not negating that. Not at all.

It’s a good question, though.

I wish everyone had some of the things I do in my life that help me get out of those places. My faith, my girl, my family, my friends. They all lift me up, even when they don’t know it.

I know we don’t all have that.

So, what do I do when hope hurts more than giving up?

I fight.

Those close to me are not going to be surprised by that answer, but it needs clarification.

I’m not talking about walking down the road or into a bar and throwing hands.

The fight is all internal, but with external support.

I’ll start with external support. This is where I struggle most. To this day, I’m horrible at it.

It’s foreign to me.

I’m the guy people go to. I’m not the guy that goes to people.

Last weekend when I was on the verge of going into a very heavy bout of depression, my girl texted me asking how I was doing. This is a daily thing I’m thankful for.

A bit of context. I had major surgery almost 3 months ago. Work is challenging, people I love were/are having hard times I can’t do anything about, and I’ve just been questioning many things. I hadn’t been taking my recovery from surgery as seriously as I should have, which made my recovery slide backward. I was back on limitations, and it was all getting to me.

She texted, and I gave a snarky reply. She was patient, knowing I was going to say more.

I told myself recently I couldn’t hide behind the usual “I’m good” or “I’m okay.” I needed to be honest about what was going on.

Then I told her I was fighting tears and anger. That I felt useless, helpless, frustrated, and like a failure.

She came over, we talked, and just having her there made me feel better.

It’s always better to have someone by your side when you’re fighting things. She was that for me that day.

Again, my family and friends have been as well, even when they didn’t know it.

All that is to say that you shouldn’t fight these things alone. You need to find people that genuinely care and will be there. Even if it’s just sitting in shared silence. They exist. Even if you think they don’t, they do. And as some of you have found, you can reach out to me.

Now the internal.

This can be the hard part.

Many would think I would mention my faith as an external item. For me, it’s not. It lives inside my heart and soul. It’s always inside of me.

When these moments come, I pray. The challenge with this is we really want God to give us what we’re asking for rather than understanding that He gives us the opportunities to gain those things.

We pray for strength. We don’t get strength. We get the opportunity to build it.

We pray not to be lonely. We get the opportunity to not be alone.

We have to seize those things.

I mention strength purposefully. We need strength to pull through these moments.

We have to dig in deep and remember everything that got us to this point. We didn’t give up then, and we shouldn’t now.

All this teaches us that, yes, hope hurts more than giving up. Hope is harder than giving up.

Giving up is a purely selfish option. We may think it isn’t, but it is. We try to justify it by saying it will help external factors, but that isn’t true.

It is all inward-based and, thus, a selfish option. No, I’m not meaning that as a statement of judgment. It’s simply a statement of fact.

Just as this one.

Hope is a selfish and selfless option. It encompasses more than just ourselves. Hope connects. It heals, it creates.

This is why hope can be painful and difficult. Things that provide those things are never easy.

Hope is worth it. Giving up isn’t.

Hope is love.

Giving up is fear. Fear of so many things.

Live in love, not fear.

Fight, don’t give up.

And as said, I would include the lyrics I wrote, so you know it isn’t just you that feels these things. It’s me and many others. Here you go.

Verse 1: I can feel it coming. God knows I’m tired of running. The beast calling my name, trying to lure me back in. Turning towards it, that place I once called home. Left it a while ago, can’t help visiting when I’m in this place. Pre-chorus: I don’t want to go, I don’t want to go. Does anyone else feel like this or am I alone? Chorus: Looking for salvation, looking for hope, praying for forgiveness, but I just feel unworthy.

Will I ever be worthy, of you and love, of faith and hope? I wanna believe, but down here, I just don’t know. Verse 2: I’m afraid to show you who I really am. You say you think I’m special, I’m really just broken and twisted, hiding behind a mask of everything I don’t want you to see. If you looked into my eyes, saw the things behind them I hide, all those things that can expose, the darkness that filled the pieces of a heart that broke long ago. Pre-chorus: I don’t want to go, I don’t want to go. Does anyone else feel like this or am I alone? Chorus: Looking for salvation, looking for hope, praying for forgiveness, but I just feel unworthy.

Will I ever be worthy, of you and love, of faith and hope? I wanna believe, but down here, I just don’t know.

Bridge: If you saw me, the darkness that hides among the wreckage, everything shattered inside me, pieces I don’t think can ever be whole again, would you turn and run, would you reach inside, try to fix those things I don’t show you, or wonder if we’re both the same? Pre-chorus: I don’t want to go, I don’t want to go. Does anyone else feel like this or am I alone? Chorus: Looking for salvation, looking for hope, praying for forgiveness, but I just feel unworthy.

Will I ever be worthy, of you and love, of faith and hope? I wanna believe, but down here, I just don’t know.