I’m writing this at a hopeful moment. There are things I’m excited about, possibilities I’m beginning to imagine. And once I start imagining, I tend to go pretty far.
Meaningful work. A chance to build something. Good friends. Deep and meaningful relationships. I can dream the most amazing dreams about what something could become.
Give me a possibility and I’m already thinking about what I could contribute, who might be involved, and what we might create together. I know there are conversations still to be had and plenty of things that might never happen. But my imagination doesn’t seem particularly interested in waiting for those details.
Usually, I appreciate that about myself.
Lately, though, I’ve noticed myself hesitating. I’m excited, and at the same time I’m wondering whether I should let myself get quite so excited.
The past few months have involved a lot of back and forth. There have been difficult stretches, followed by something good that I couldn’t have anticipated. I’ve had plenty of reasons to be grateful. Sometimes, just when things seemed particularly dark, a possibility appeared and gave me something to look forward to.
And sometimes, after I’d begun dreaming about where it might lead, it fell through. For one reason or another, it wasn’t going to happen.
I take that harder than I’d like.
I feel rejected. Ignored. Sometimes irrelevant. Then I feel a little foolish for feeling all of that about something that was never certain to begin with. Why did I let myself get so carried away?
I can usually talk myself through those feelings fairly quickly. I know that something falling through doesn’t mean I have nothing to offer. There are all sorts of reasons things don’t work out, and I can generally find my way back to a little perspective.
Still, there’s a crash. I’d wanted it. For a while, I’d allowed myself to imagine it becoming part of my life.
Before long, though, I’m rooting around for the next possibility.
I still want work that matters to me. I want to build something I care about. I want good friends and relationships with depth. None of that goes away because I’m disappointed.
So when something new pokes above the surface, there I am, dreaming again.
That’s where I am as I write this. There are things I’m looking forward to. I want to give them my energy and see what they might become. But I feel a little like a wobbly toddler, excited to walk and still unsure of my footing.
I’m not used to being cautious about hope. Optimism has always come pretty naturally to me. I don’t want to lose that, and honestly, I’m not sure I could. But I’m beginning to understand the impulse to hold back a little. To wait and see before getting too invested.
The trouble is that by the time I remember to hold back, I’ve usually already started dreaming.
I believe that darkness gives birth to light. I’ve seen good things come out of difficult situations. I’m grateful for them. But the back and forth can wear me out, even when I can see how much good has come along the way.
Right now, I have something to look forward to. I’d like to enjoy it without already thinking about how I’ll pick myself up if it doesn’t happen.
I’m hopeful as I write this.
I just wish I weren’t so hesitant to let myself enjoy it.