So this happened

I lost Hope today….

It’s a bizarre feeling when it actually happens too. I mean, I usually consider myself a silver lining kind of person. So much so, that it tends to make people sick of me at times. But, because I’m a people pleaser, I quickly counter act my over-aggressive positivity with a touch of wit. It has always seemed to do the trick until today. Instead of my usual go-to phrases to balance out realism and theology, I just cried. As each tear escaped, I said goodbye to the hope that I had been clinging to for the past four weeks.

I don’t feel like going into detail, which is totally unlike me, I know. But, this recent health problem is kicking my butt and confusing doctors at the same time. It’s literally eating me up on the inside, and I don’t know how else to describe it other than by saying that it totally sucks…. Expletive, expletive, expletive, and so one. But even cursing it out, in my mind (because Idan doesn’t like cuss words), still kept hope alive. It was a therapeutic tactic at giving myself some resolve when no one else could. This isn’t to say that God left me without peace, because that’s contrary to his Word. He doesn’t leave me. He has never left me. I see Him, hear Him and feel Him daily. It just felt good, on a human level, to curse my deteriorating body to the ground it came from!

Even now, I feel tension releasing and giving me a sensation other than comfort and peace…more like blame. I blame my body for not keeping up with my wit and fierce determination to live- to live with purpose, if you will. Or if you will not. It makes no difference to me. I digress though. Back to losing hope…I experienced an honest doctor for the first time in my life today. He told me he had no idea how to fix what was wrong. And then he stared at me blankly. Clearly, he caught me off guard, because I had no quips for him. I had no way to break the tension in that god-awful salmon colored exam room. I wish I knew which room number it was so that my carefully worded diction could take you to my exact seat in the corner of the room, which was ironically a comfortable temperature. Dang, I wish it was a cold room! That would really have you feeling hopeless right along with me. And who likes to walk through hopelessness alone, right?

I don’t want to dwell too much on my hopelessness. Maybe I shouldn’t have titled his post in such a misleading way, but hen again, it caught your attention, didn’t it? Rather, I want you to understand why losing hope was exactly what I needed, and why that doctor is my favorite in the world. I felt lost and confused in this whole medical ordeal, and I was relying on just the right doctor to figure me out. That doctor spoke words that he keeps calling me to apologize for, but I keep thanking him for speaking them. The moment that I lost hope in him, there was room for hope in someone else. It may not make sense, and if it doesn’t then I blame the common core method. I shed a few tears there in the office, and tried to apologize for making his genius brain uncomfortable with my raw emotion. At this point, I feel like we are a lot closer than we truly ought to be. First, he shoved a scope down my throat. Next, I’m crying on his shoulder. Basically, we’re best friends now.

The walk from the exam room to the car….actually was COLD! It was freezing stinking cold! But it cooled my face, which had been made all hot from my low-blood pressured tears. Blood pressure so low that medicine to treat my condition could kill me. What are ya gonna do, right? My loud and heaving sobs echoed through the parking garage, and my drive only welcomed new tears to join my wadded up and snot-soaked tissue. Hopelessness is okay if you grieve it right away, I think. In immediate retrospect, I think that my emotions flowed quite naturally. Because, at the very moment that I told God that I had given up, someone else tagged in. I don’t know know a whole lot of things about the world, but there is this one thing that I am sure of, and that is that it’s okay to lose hope. But lose it only if you’re preparing to receive new hope. Toss out hope that has worn thin, because it’s lost it’s magical calming touch. I think that the shelflife of my recently lost hope was about 4 weeks. So far, the new one is alright…I actually like it quite well, but I’ll need to try it on in front of my husband and see what he thinks before I make any affirmative declarations.

Also, gotta have Jesus. I promise you this.