I wrote a blog post a few years back titled “hope, the double edged sword” and it was quite true to where I was in my life at that point. I was sick of trying to remain hopeful. I was sick of clutching onto the last shreds of my old life and trying to remain hopeful that I could be her again. Because I couldn’t.
That life died when I got sick. That Rachel curled up and died a long damn time ago but, like a phoenix, my old self was consumed in the fire and from the ashes of my former self I was born again – stronger, wiser and a whole lot better for having gone through these past four years.
Sometimes all I have had was hope. When the doctors haven’t had an answer I only had hope. When test resting came back within normal limits but I still felt ill I still had hope. When I was crying and having anxiety attacks, I still held onto hope that one day it wouldn’t be like that every night.
Hope was so vital to my survival and to me as I have rebuilt my life slowly over the last 6 months.
And now as I’m standing at the beginning of a journey I am even more hopeful.
I have a job prospect in my future that could give myself financial security and stability. I have a road trip cross country with friends in the works. I am spending time with friends and socializing on a regular basis.
And I have hope for everyone who reads this. And in these difficult times remember the words of Gandhi: “You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty.”
Much love my friends.
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