The audacity of hope

 

I'm absolutely sure I look like I have it together way more than I do. Most of us probably can align with that statement. But because I'm going through a tough health challenge, turning my life upside down (again), and navigating a new normal every day I'm in my own head a lot about ... well, a lot.

The anxiety in my body feels like it's had too much caffeine, especially at night. And for someone who takes great care not to consume any caffeine after 12:00 p.m., it seems a little backwards that my mind (and sometimes my body) feels as though it's being injected with the stuff at all hours.

Right now, in the final days as I prepare to move, a lot of the anxiety is about the same kind of stuff you'd be worried about if you were moving. Except I'm really good at moving so I'm a little surprised it's making me come undone.

Sometimes when I have moved in the past it has felt like an admission of defeat. The job didn't work out, the living situation didn't go as planned, the experience wasn't what I had anticipated - or hoped for.

And it would be easy for this time feel like that - a defeat. Like once again a city or a new place welcomed me in and then spit me back out. 

And my natural tendency is to quietly and independently clean it up, make plans to fix it, and hold out hope that next time might go better. After so many times that could be viewed as audacious. 

This time would be no exception, and even more bold.

I actually realized over the summer I still believe in the dreams I've held for a long time. That losing Oliver, carrying the weight of a difficult disease, not being able to be who I thought I could be is not a reason not to continually hope that someday I will have those dreams realized or have them back.

For awhile I thought 'you have a lot of nerve believing you can have (fill in the blank).' 

When you're alone and you become fiercely independent out of the need to survive you might, like I have so often, forget to ask for help, or struggle to believe there are people who will actually do things for you simply because they realize you need the favor. Or you do things that might open the door for that kind of community and it doesn't work out, and the result is a shrinking from trying again.

So whether it's the immediate family, the close friend, the neighbor, or the colleague, I'm going to work on being more open to the support. It's not likely to lower my anxiety over the next twelve days (not that I'm counting) but it does give me hope.

I've decided I'll be audacious. 

I even plan to add a new dog to my life once I move.