Finding hope again

Hope feels fragile when you’ve lost it before. I don’t trust it easily. I wait for the drop, the message, the scan that says not this time. Even joy feels dangerous, like it might tempt fate.

Still, hope creeps back. In small ways. A routine that steadies me. A nurse who is gentle. A kind word at the right time. These moments don’t erase fear, but they help to make space for something else alongside it.

Grief has taught me not to expect happy endings. It has also shown me how much strength lives in the body when you think there’s nothing left.

Anne Lamott said, “Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come.”

Some days I believe her. Some days I don’t, but…

“In the middle of winter I at last discovered that there was in me an invincible summer.” - Albert Camus