Earlier I read a sentence that couldn’t be more true:
“If you’re able to imagine the worst, why don’t you use that same power to imagine the best?”
And it’s true. I’ve always been one of those extreme worst-case scenario thinkers. I never allowed myself even a second to consider that the best could simply happen — that a relationship could work, that a job could work out, that an apartment could work, that streaming could work, that my community, my tweets, shorts, videos, presence, tests… everything.
I always assumed the worst, because only then did I feel safe enough not to be hurt too badly.
Having hope always felt like a lie. Like something childish that could never come true. Like a “loss of reality.” Like a “desperate attempt.”
Hope is often dismissed in our society. But what if we just allowed ourselves to hope? What if we didn’t stop placing positive hope into people, situations, and circumstances?
As children, we wrote wish lists to Santa Claus and hoped — no, we knew — our wishes would come true. Were our dreams, hopes, and wishes destroyed by harsh reality? Or what if we simply take that back?
What if we just assume that things can work out?
That our dreams and wishes can come true?
What’s so terrible about simply hoping that everything will be okay?
He used to say that all the time:
“Everything will be okay (again), Rye!”
What if he was right all along? That everything really will be okay again?
An acquaintance of mine says something similar:
“In the end, everything will be okay. And if it’s not okay yet, then it’s not the end.”
And from now on, I’m trying to combine both:
“My ending is still open. But my happy ending is already written — and no matter how, no matter when, no matter where, it will happen.”
I’ve thrown grenades at people (metaphorically). And now I’m facing the consequences.
But from now on, I’ll do it with a smile on my face. Because I know I can learn from it. I can turn my mistakes into something big — something that helps people. I’m writing my story, writing this personal blog, and I will never give up so easily again.
Earlier I received two wonderful messages that confirmed there is something good out there — sometimes just hidden in the darkness we’ve created ourselves:
I asked my health insurance for help finding inpatient therapy because the clinic hasn’t responded yet. They gladly agreed, and I only need to go to my primary care doctor to get one letter. One. Not a hundred. Not ten. One. Tomorrow morning I can call my doctor and make an appointment.
And a potential job reached out with strong interest. Not yet for my retraining, but right now a constant in my life is important — and I can work toward the rest.
I’d have the chance to work as a school aide for one child. No weekends. No holiday work. No late shifts. Fixed hours. Just one child to support. And a pretty decent salary.
Of course, I googled the employer — and found that employees are genuinely enthusiastic about working there. Not in a fake way. In an honest one.
I’ll get more information tomorrow and could start anytime. It would be nice to have something to do. Then I can really step out of my shell and focus on the good things. And yes, I’m already training myself to rewire my worst-case thinking into positive thoughts.
It really helped to just cry yesterday. I honestly think that when I get into a bad mood, what I actually need is to cry.
And because of moments like that, I know there are still many closed doors inside me that I need to push open.
But thanks to my health insurance — and my own will — I can now enter a clinic sooner. To finally become the person I already feel in my heart.
I didn’t waste 39 years of my life.
I had to survive.
Survive rape, mental abuse, beatings, bullying — and a nervous system that’s been in constant alarm because of it.
Everything will be okay again.
I hear that sentence in your voice — and it gives me incredible strength and reassurance.
Midnight Soul 