Hope.

I have hope this morning.


For me this is a fleeting thing. As quickly passing as a random thought. It fades out of my grasp as mysteriously as a dream. I can write down all of its twists and turns while it hangs tenuously in my mind‘s eye. But after a few moments, even the words on paper cannot quite bring into focus the images that I was so desperate to record.


So I hold on tight to that feeling while its there. So tight that it hurts. So tight and with such a fear of it’s loss that my body seems to cramp with the effort. Perhaps the desperation and crushing hold only makes matters worse, less tenable.


I'm not sure what it is I have hope for, but I have it. Perhaps it's the hope that things will be better. Life will change. Walls won't crumble and leave me exposed. I will have a place of safety that isn't suffocating, not claustrophobic and the air will be fresh rather than stale. I can open the drapes and enjoy a potted plant. I will go into the yard and actually pause and feel the sun. I will go Christmas shopping in the daylight.


I have hope that family will see me as an addition to the foundation rather than a weakness to the insulation. That they will think of me as a help not a hindrance. That my countinence on a bad day will not keep loved ones away on a good day. That when I come to mind it’s my smile they think of rather than my frown. They will not be a ashamed of the lazy cow in the back room. I will not forever be a whisper. I have HOPE that they will someday, stop punishing me for being me.


I have hope that extended family will not murmur my name as if I’m in a house full of cats on a hill. That they will not hold my offense against those that surround me. That they will not confuse mental health with intelligence. That they will research instead of assume. That they won’t look to Hollywood for an example. That they will not forget the girl I was. I pray that they do not think me short on faith or failing in devotion. Someday they won’t think “call before you come” means “don’t call us, we’ll call you”. I hope that they will discover that I like to be part of their communications online, even though I don’t go to family reunions, holidays or talk on the phone. I have HOPE that they will someday, stop punishing me for being me.


I have hope that the world will forgive me for what I am.



I have hope. I have hope.