How to Hope as a Realist
I am conveying my understanding of hope from the viewpoint of a realist. In my profession, I assist individuals in discerning between effective and ineffective hope. Every year, when I elucidate this concept in my Boundaries Course, the revelation that hope could potentially turn dysfunctional astonishes participants. Coming from teachings that encourage eternal hope, labeling this as a positive and uplifting trait, the idea can be quite shocking.
I advocate for maintaining hope in certain aspects, but I also believe that over time, it's crucial to assess where we're investing our major hopes, particularly as highly sensitive individuals and survivors trying to balance our energy, heal our nervous systems, and achieve calm and sanity in a chaotic world. It seems apt to discuss how and where I apply hope, and where I choose not to.
So, where should we invest our hope, especially when situations seem grim to our sensitive minds and bodies? My approach to hope has evolved over time. The first point I want to touch upon is a pattern I've noticed in myself and my highly sensitive clients over the years. As empathetic individuals, we tend to offer second chances. We yearn to see people prosper, keep their vows, and follow through on their commitments. However, when we extend these chances while battling a people-pleasing attitude, we risk misconstruing our perspective, assuming that people deserve endless opportunities. This behavior results in fatigue, resentment, and deep dissatisfaction among highly sensitive individuals.
It can be quite startling to identify this dynamic in our actions. We question why we feel drained or why we are constantly surrounded by drama. Is it possible that by offering infinite chances, we are unintentionally contributing to the drama in our lives? This practice can be seen as a misuse of our hope, placing it in situations where it has been repeatedly disrespected and overlooked.
In the context of setting boundaries and cultivating self-respect, we learn to limit these chances. This is not about becoming indifferent or tough, rather it's about realizing that wasting our emotional resources by endlessly hoping is not self-respecting. Thus, during our healing journey, we learn to conserve our hope for ourselves, rather than squandering it on hopeless causes.
This brings me to my second point - to place hope in areas within my control. The foundation of my work is that peace, joy, and satisfaction are internal, not external. I strive to detach myself with love from things that are beyond my control. I plan rather than hope for uncontrollable circumstances. If I'm planning a summer hike, for instance, I don't hope against rain. I have no control over the weather, so instead, I formulate a contingency plan. I arrange an alternative activity or choose a different location with more favorable weather. This method was useful last summer when we planned our hikes around fires to protect ourselves and still enjoy nature.
In my view, there are moments for hope and moments for strategic action. As highly sensitive individuals, planning a straightforward backup plan based on controllable elements seems a wiser investment of hope than leaving it to chance, such as hoping for good weather. Can I still retain a small percentage of hope for a beautiful day? Absolutely.
Navigating hope as a pragmatist involves discerning between beneficial hope and unhelpful hope. In my role, I guide individuals to comprehend this distinction. The Boundaries Course, consistently astonishes attendees when they realize that hope can evolve into something counterproductive. It upends traditional notions that emphasize constant hopefulness, an attitude associated with positivity and high spirits. While I champion the notion of never losing hope, it's crucial to reevaluate the direction of our primary hope throughout our lives, particularly for empathetic individuals and those in recovery. We strive to balance our energies, mend our nervous systems, and achieve tranquility and stability amidst a tumultuous world. Today, I wish to illustrate how I direct my hope, as well as the areas I consciously avoid.
So, where should we place our hope? How do we foster self-care when our sensitive hearts, bodies, and minds encounter seemingly bleak circumstances? I didn't always handle hope this way. First, I want to delve into a pattern I've observed in myself and my clients over the years. As empathetic individuals, we often extend second chances. We desire to see others succeed, uphold their commitments, and fulfill their promises. Yet, when this propensity for granting second chances intertwines with people-pleasing tendencies, we unintentionally manipulate our thinking into believing everyone deserves infinite opportunities. This perspective can lead to emotional exhaustion, resentment, bitterness, and deep dissatisfaction for highly sensitive people. When we scrutinize this pattern, it's shocking to acknowledge our contribution to it and to see why we're so drained and why, despite despising drama, we're constantly engulfed by it. This pattern is a misdirected use of hope, where we repeatedly invest in situations where our hope is abused and neglected.
In the realm of self-respect and boundary-setting, we learn to shift from providing unlimited chances to offering fewer opportunities. This adjustment isn't about being cold-hearted or tough but about realizing that constantly throwing our hope into voids is a misuse of our emotional resources. In our healing journey, we often discover that we must retain more hope for ourselves rather than expending it on proven pitfalls. This brings me to my second point: I ensure that my hope is placed in aspects I can control. The philosophy that true peace, happiness, and contentment emanate from within, rather than from external sources, underpins all my work. This approach manifests in simple, day-to-day scenarios. For instance, when planning a summer hike, I don't hope it won't rain. I focus on planning, which feels more empowering and aligns with what I can control, rather than relying on factors outside my control, like the weather. Instead of merely hoping for good weather, I formulate a backup plan or choose an alternate hiking location with different weather conditions. This way, even in the face of unforeseen events like wildfires, we can still enjoy our hikes without compromising our safety or health. Knowing when to place hope and when to take actionable steps is a skill that can greatly benefit highly sensitive people.
Another facet of my hope management involves regulating not just the thoughts I attach to hope but the energy I invest in it. I wouldn't want to invest as much energy into hoping for a pleasant day as a child would into staying up on Christmas Eve to see Santa. As part of my self-care regime and as an individual recovering from a lifetime of over-stimulation, managing hope in this manner is integral. However, when dealing with dysfunctional hope, it's essential not to swing the pendulum too far the other way. I don't let the fear of disappointment curb my excitement or hopefulness. I recall when we were semi-finalists in a podcast awards competition. Despite not winning, I allowed myself to feel the hope and excitement of potentially
winning, something I wouldn't have been able to do in the past due to fear of disappointment or failure. This progress was made possible by the work I've done to heal and manage my inner critic, allowing me to get more excited about things and nourish myself through experiences of growth, such as losing a contest.
I commit to maintaining a hopeful and positive outlook each day. While I have my moments of failure, I continue to invest hope in myself and things within my control. How I manage my hope isn't intended to be a universal guide, rather it's a reflection of my personal experiences. Different individuals may have different perspectives, some of which may align with or contradict mine, and that's perfectly fine. I share my experiences not to establish them as the ultimate truth, but to highlight that everyone has the right to develop their own methods.
The realm of politics is an area where I've decided not to invest my hope. Given the current state of American politics, hoping for it to fix itself contradicts my first rule of hope about limiting chances. However, I still have substantial hope in natural consequences and systems hitting rock bottom because they've proven to be our greatest teachers. Pain, as a result of such experiences, breaks down the stubbornness of our egos and compels us to confront and overcome our self-sabotaging behaviors. This isn't to say I don't vote; it's an action within my control, so I do it. But, I no longer tie my hope to the outcome. I've learned to protect my tender hope based on the evidence of political dysfunction that I've observed throughout my life. Despite this, I remain open to revisiting anything I lose hope in. New, positive developments might reignite my hope, and I stay open to changes in how I distribute my hope.
Like a wise investor, I'm discerning about where I place my hope. I put hope in people who are securely attached and in those who are anxiously attached but working towards secure attachment in their lives and careers. I invest hope in those who listen to this show, who choose to work with me and tread their path of seeking. Those spreading healing vibes, learning to speak from their healing instead of their wounds, those working on passion projects, and being the change in the world are all fantastic places to place my hope. This investment connects me to positive people worldwide and makes me feel a part of a healthy, healing, imperfect, sometimes messy tribe of highly sensitive people with superpowers.
As a guru, I invest hope in myself, in teachers, events, and times in our lives that shape us. Gurus are not just individuals; they can be emotions or experiences, like joy or anger. The term guru isn't about worship; it simply signifies any entity that teaches us. Being able to share my experiences, having worked through hard things to come out on the other side, has instilled hope in how we can hold space for ourselves first, gain clarity, find wisdom through our pain, and share it to benefit others. My hope management journey is ongoing, and while it may not be the "right" way for everyone, it serves as a reminder that you have every right to create your own path, managing hope in a way that works best for you.
I remain hopeful about the number of people worldwide who are embarking on similar journeys, practicing healing work and spreading an aura of healthy hope. I place a significant amount of hope in the butterfly effect—the healing energy we radiate when we embody healing, wholeness, and self-respect. I'm hopeful about the potential of today's sophisticated technology to bridge distances and connect individuals across continents. As proof, I look at my Boundaries course, which has enrolled international students from countries like New Zealand, Australia, Taiwan, Canada, and many others. Watching these individuals connect, share, encourage, and grow collectively fills me with hope—it's an incredibly empowering feeling.
My hope also extends to the ripple effect of higher vibrations that my healing and work can create, impacting anyone listening to this. Every lesson we learn in life aids us in showing up as better versions of ourselves in the present moment. It fills me with hope knowing how many people worldwide are resonating at this level, seeking connections, clarity, peace, and goodness for themselves and everyone else.
Perhaps unexpectedly, I also find hope when times are hard and life is challenging. It's a kind of wisdom that comes with experience, from those of us who have faced pain and can look back to understand that the toughest moments have taught us the most. This perspective allows me to find hope in every painful or uncomfortable moment that seems hopeless. With the knowledge that every difficult situation has provided valuable lessons in the past, I can tell myself, "Hey, Nikki, remember how much you've learned from hard times? You don't have to enjoy it, but you can trust that it's going to teach you something." This helps me hold space for my own pain and be open to learning from it, knowing that doing so will lead me through to the other side of that pain.
Finally, my hope is deeply rooted in my spirituality, in the intricate order of the universe, and in my faith that the universe has a higher understanding than I could ever possess. I place my hope in the universe, asking it to carry my burdens, to take the weight off my shoulders, to hold onto the things that I can't yet make sense of so that I can live with as much lightness as possible. This act of hope acknowledges the preciousness of my limited time on this planet and allows me to make the most of each day with respect, honor, gratitude, and lightness.
It's a form of immaturity to be grateful only when things go my way. Growing my inner child has involved teaching her the wisdom of maintaining hopefulness even when things aren't going as planned. I share my truth with others and invite them to join me on my journey if it resonates with them, continually returning to this seeker's path despite life's challenges.
By mindfully managing my hope—nurturing it and ensuring I use it to uplift rather than weigh me down—I've seen a dramatic shift in my emotional state. My heart is full of functional, light, healthy, purpose-filled hope. I began this show hoping it might reach a few hundred people and was careful to manage my hope. That management proved to be a worthy investment.
If you find yourself in a situation where you've been consistently draining your hope into a bottomless pit, know that you have the power to change this. Identify what in your life truly deserves your healthy hope, and divert your energy there. Through managing hope, you can invest it in your life, your callings, your passions, your healing, and your wholeness. These are high-return investments, and I hope we all reap the rewards.
Episode Tags
- ADD 1
- Abuse 14
- Alcohol 3
- Anger 8
- Bullying 4
- Childhood 37
- Codependency 7
- Covid 4
- Crystal Catalina 4
- Depression 15
- Detachment 2
- Disassociation 4
- Emotions 71
- Existentialism 1
- Faith 1
- Family 24
- Fatigue 4
- Focus 3
- Gratitude 11
- Grief 10
- Guilt 2
- Healers 7
- Healing 51
- High Sensation 4
- Hope 1
- Hypervigilance 7
- Introverts 6
- Lonliness 7
- Love 3
- Manifesting 5
- Manipulation 19
- Men 1
- Mindfulness 36
- Money 10
- Music 3
- Nutrition 2
- Overthinking 8
- PTSD 11
- Parenting 12
- People Pleasing 7
- Perfectionism 6
- Pets 4
- Relationships 12
- Resiliency 12
- Sadness 1
- Self Esteem 16
- Self Love 11
- Self-Care 24
- Sex 1
- Shame 4
Episode Tags
- ADD 1
- Abuse 14
- Alcohol 3
- Anger 8
- Bullying 4
- Childhood 37
- Codependency 7
- Covid 4
- Crystal Catalina 4
- Depression 15
- Detachment 2
- Disassociation 4
- Emotions 71
- Existentialism 1
- Faith 1
- Family 24
- Fatigue 4
- Focus 3
- Gratitude 11
- Grief 10
- Guilt 2
- Healers 7
- Healing 51
- High Sensation 4
- Hope 1
- Hypervigilance 7
- Introverts 6
- Lonliness 7
- Love 3
- Manifesting 5
- Manipulation 19
- Men 1
- Mindfulness 36
- Money 10
- Music 3
- Nutrition 2
- Overthinking 8
- PTSD 11
- Parenting 12
- People Pleasing 7
- Perfectionism 6
- Pets 4
- Relationships 12
- Resiliency 12
- Sadness 1
- Self Esteem 16
- Self Love 11
- Self-Care 24
- Sex 1
- Shame 4
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