It was six months back, my Last Post.
At that time I was sure that this blog had done its time. I had my reasons, and they were enough for me to sign off something that I had loved for three years. But I missed it. I missed you, and in time a certainty grew inside me, that just maybe this blog hadn’t done its time. Now I know I want to be here again, and so I’m back.
You’ll see that there are a few cosmetic changes. It was time for a facelift. What remains are the daisies, and that’s because daisies have always been a symbol of what I want to be writing about.
It’s not just hope. It’s about what daisies stand for. Look at the image above and think about daisies for a moment. The daisies grow almost anywhere. In the grass, they get trodden on, and perhaps worse still get decapitated in a lawnmower. Yet they keep growing back. They are completely resilient and keep growing almost no matter what.
What better symbol for a blog about getting through some really difficult times (both mental and physical illness) with a sometimes underrated thing called hope?
Hope is explained in many different ways. I don’t think it is possible to put just a few words into one definition. Rather I believe that we each need to find our own definition. Something that means something to me (or to you).
Perhaps most commonly used as a definition is the phrase ‘Hold On Pain Ends‘. If that describes your situation and works for you, then that is something you can use. But it doesn’t work for me for one reason: the pain doesn’t necessarily end. I have come to a point where I have realised that I have to find hope in spite of pain. I’m working on that.
A little over three years ago, I wrote this about my understanding of hope:
“It’s a specific belief that the future looks better and I can make a difference in my own recovery.”
Maybe it doesn’t work for you. Certainly other writers will have penned it better. That doesn’t matter though, because what matters is that it works for me.
“Better than this”
It’s simplistic, but it’s manageable regardless what type of pain I’m in, and what degree of pain is my current reality. I know that ‘better than this‘ can be and so with that in mind hopefully I keep on going.
So how do you define hope? What works for you?
After six months of very little writing and almost no reading, it’s going to take me a while to get going again. My reading is completely affected by my concentration levels. Brain fog, courtesy of fibromyalgia, is to blame for that. As I am able, I look forward to getting back to your blogs. Please bear with me.
PS: You may notice that I’ve changed my gravatar (see to the right of the screen). My old one didn’t work for me after three years. This new one is formed from a photograph of street art built around construction sites in Christchurch, where I live. I love it, and I believe that ballerinas must from hope in pain as much as anyone.
A New Look at Daisy (Bellis Perennis) PositiveHealth.com