On days when I can’t seem to stop myself from stumbling into the black cave of despair, the damp cloying silt of grief clinging to me like a fine sheen of sweat. When sorrow cakes my freckled skin with the sooty residue of charred dreams; the ashes of what was or what could have been floating nearby like disemboweled snowflakes.
When it’s been too many nights spent in the inky sea of despair, treading water like a navy seal in training, the heavy chain of sorrow anchoring me to the past. When heartache wraps around me a steel noose and I am as moveable as a wet blanket, I confess to indulging in fantasies of being rescued, thumb up and out so the first hero charging by on a white horse knows to stop.
Sometimes sorrow seems to rain down out of nowhere, but sometimes I know I play a part in my unraveling by wrapping myself in the damp blanket of fear. Helplessness drains the buoyant vibrancy of hope from our hearts. Sucks our joy like dementors until we feel like an empty cell, all bones, muscle and sinew, but no heart.
Hopelessness kills ambition, it drives illness, it numbs the heart and advances depression.
Hope on the other hand, pierces the darkness, floods the damp night with light.
Hope, is the real deal.
And your mother is sure he’s a doctor too!
Tall, dark, handsome and educated, hope is a bomb shell. Didn’t your mother chide you about making sure to wear your good bra and brush your teeth?
Hope a gleaming knight, a decorated warrior, a prince on a white stag, dressed in a uniform with gold, shiny buttons gleaming like rich buttery coins in the sunlight.
Hope cleans up nice. But hope is still modest, he arrives as a pauper. Humble as a servant he approaches, a hero. Finds you stooped over, bent from the weight of grief, lost and broken.
Your dress in tatters. #damnthosestepsisters
Your coach a pumpkin, the magic of what if, spent and dissipated.
But then, here comes hope, carrying your glass slipper in his hand. And with any luck a small army of birds and mice to do your laundry.
All that I’m saying is, don’t be afraid to turn down a fling with fear. Fear is not worth your time; he’s cut glass and veneer teeth. Hope on the other hand, he’s the real deal, he’s worth waiting for.
I know, I know. You’re afraid he’s not coming? Don’t worry, he’s just grooming his stallion, and flossing his perfect teeth. Hope never fails.