Hope Is Not a Feeling

Many of us use terms like “I hope I’ll pass my exam”, or “I feel more hopeful now”. We understand the meaning of hope, but most of us don’t realise what it really is.

C.R. Synder, Professor of Clinical Psychology at the University of Kansas, describes hope as a “positive motivational state that is based on an inter-actively derived sense of successful agency and pathways”

Successful agency is that we can make decisions that benefit us, such as wearing a warm coat in winter to deciding which career path is for us and passing the qualifications we need. Pathways are our choices in that process. So choosing to become a nurse is a pathway.

If we have hope we are in charge of our lives. We decide how our day will be. Of course we can’t control the unexpected, but we remain positive and can adapt easily when an event that we can’t control occurs.

For instance, I live with two life limiting diseases, so I must accept that tiredness can overwhelm me. I don’t let that steal my hope. I am in charge of my ability to succeed (hope). Sometimes, success for me looks like simply showering and getting dressed. Other days, it looks like adding some time in the garden, and writing. Most days include taking a photo.

So, my most successful days include of all the above and seeing friends, reading on here, reading a good book, and finding something worthwhile to watch on TV. I can do without the latter. However my day turns out, my hope is that I will accomplish everything I choose to do.

If you are someone who says “this gives me hope”, then you don’t have hope. It is not dependent on anything but ourselves. Even in the worst of circumstances, it is possible to have hope. Look at migration around the world. All of them have hope, even if they are broken and full of grief.

Of course, as humans, we feel grief, sadness, disappointment etc. A friend once told me that disappointments are God’s appointments. This simply means that something beautiful can rise from our disappointment.

Grief is a state that we ought not experience before we are teenagers, but it can occur at any time. It is crushingly painful, and yet we can continue to have hope at the same time. This gives us dignity in our grief, without building walls to keep others out, and neither being an object of pity.

I have been grief stricken so many times, yet I raised my daughter, did my work and hosted guests without despair. Of course, having a child brings many unforeseen happenings, but we stay in charge of our selves even if, like me, you mourn the death of another child.

Our hope does depend on our weight, our partner, our neighbours, or being able to fit into a certain outfit.

Three weeks ago, I was standing on my patio in my garden, and the next thing I knew I was lying on the paving stones in great pain. I managed to get up and I phoned a friend. She came and bathed my wounds and made a cup of tea. She also phoned the District Nurses because my wound was open. For about a week, I had no desire to go into the garden. Part of it was instinct: I did not want to fall again with bare legs arms. Part of it was that I had lost some hope.

My hope increased as I missed the pleasures of my garden, and I used my agency to get out there again.

Last Friday evening I chose to go to a political event with my MP. I haven’t been out in the evening for some time. I met someone I knew on the way, and, sadly, there was a death threat in the foyer but we carried on with the assistance of Parliamentary security and local police. My MP has hope.

So, saying things like “I was quite depressed yesterday, but now I feel more more hopeful” have nothing to do with hope. It is simply that you feel a bit better. I trust that I have made clear what hope is. It is made of courage, confidence, and agency. The first two can depend on parenting. Yet we all can attain hope.

Thank you so much for reading!

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This post was previously published on medium.com.