An ember of hope

There are some confusing feelings bubbling up inside of me this morning. There is love and hope and a timid curiosity. They are gentle, swirling feelings. These feelings have bubbled up before, but something feels different this time. In the past, my hope has ended up exploding into disappointment and disaster. Resentment, anger, and putting up emotional walls made of steel.

Maybe it’s different this time because I am taking the space that I need. Setting and keeping boundaries and putting my needs, emotional safety, and health first. Writing is helping me gain clarity, find forgiveness, and hold compassion for myself and this life that I am living. It doesn’t seem to be about fault anymore. Not about blame or shame or hurt or past mistakes.

In this moment, (that’s all I have right now), I see only the future; forward momentum, and time moving on. Every single day is different. Some are up, and filled with hope and clarity, for what has transpired and what is to come. Some days are down; horrific nightmares of triggered moments and longing for something and someone who doesn’t exist anymore.

I will take this moment, right here and right now. I will sit in it. I will allow space for these feelings of hope, though they feel vulnerable and risky to me. I will try to absorb them, let them fill me. I know that hope can sometimes be dangerous – it can disappoint. BUT I also know that I have never been one to give up on anything that I want. I am tenacious to a fault.

So what if I embrace this ember of hope burning in my heart and let it be? Let it grow of it’s own accord and know that no matter what happens, I am changing daily into a stronger and more amazing woman than I ever thought possible. And with that change and growth comes the realization that I do not need a man (or anyone for that matter) in my life to reflect my self-worth back to me.

Because as I do this on my own, as I do this for myself and for my children, I am all that I need.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.

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