January 4, 2009

After a day or two of feeling well I start to get excited and think that I'm all better: that's it, my recovery is over! Oh Abby, when will you learn? I woke up this morning with my stomach a little off and I knew it would be a day I needed to stay close to the restroom. But not to worry, it was cloudy and rainy all day (one of the 30 days a year that happens here), so I wasn't tempted by the sunshine outside. I spent the entire day in my PJ's, reading and writing in bed. My body is tired out today too, all the muscles in my back are sore from my numerous trips to the bathroom. But I'm not complaining - my spirits are still high!

I am keenly aware of this cycle. I've noticed it before - hope followed by disappointment or heartbreak followed by hope and on and on. This has been a tough one for me to figure out too. Do I keep chosing hope? There are times when the heartbreak has been so great, it took everything in me to hold on to hope. I didn't know if I wanted to. I didn't know if I could. And really, there were times that the hope that I held came from outside myself. I received hope from co-workers who sent me cards in the mail or donated sick time to me, or from the friends of family members who I have never met before but who sent cards and prayers my way. I needed that hope. I wouldn't have survived without it.

What I have learned about hope is that it is a choice. When the fear of heartbreak starts creeping into my mind I do my best to shut out those thoughts. I can't dwell on those fears. That would be the death of hope. Even now, I'm tempted to list for you all the things that could go wrong for me right now, but I'm not going to. I'm not going to give any mental space to those thoughts right now. I'm going to hold on to hope that the future will be full of wonderful things, and trust that when the wonderful things don't happen I'll have the resources and the strength to deal with them. But I won't fear. I will hope . . .