At 37, I Finally Trust Hope is going to Stay
I may not know exactly what my future will look like, but for the first time, I truly believe I will be okay in the end. I can finally see a light at the end of the tunnel.
There have been many other times in my life when I began to feel hopeful, especially when I first entered recovery. But I never trusted that hope the way I do now.
There always seemed to be another major obstacle, crisis, or loss waiting to knock me back down. I would begin believing that life was improving, only for something else to happen and change its direction again.
This time feels different.
My life has continued to improve, and for once, that progress has lasted long enough for hope to begin feeling real. I also have a partner I trust not to disappear when life gets hard.
For much of my life, chaos felt normal. As a child and teenager, I rarely imagined what adulthood might look like because I was usually focused on surviving whatever was happening at the time.
It was only as I got older and spent time around other people and their families—several of whom welcomed me into their own—that I began to understand life did not always have to feel unstable.
Recovery changed the way I viewed the future. I started to have hope each time things got better.
After years of chaos and addiction, I no longer wanted constant excitement, drama, or danger. I wanted what I started calling “the boring life.” I wanted a loyal, decent man. I wanted a family. I wanted ordinary routines, stability, and a home that felt safe.
“And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in.” — Haruki Murakami
What many people consider normal began to feel extraordinary to me.
Boring was no longer something I feared. Boring was peace.
Dustin and I believed we would eventually have a family together. When he died, I did not only lose him. I also lost the future we believed we were going to have.
Now I am 37, and I cannot pretend age does not matter. I would still love to have children, and I know I do not have unlimited time to decide whether that will happen biologically. But I am not willing to rush my life because I am afraid of a clock.
I do not want to get married because I became pregnant. I want to get married because I am in love, because we genuinely want that commitment, and because we believe we can build something that will truly last.
Maybe I will have biological children. Maybe I will freeze my eggs. Maybe I will adopt. Maybe my life will look completely different from what I currently imagine.
I honestly do not know.
What surprises me most is that I am becoming okay with not knowing.
“Peace is a daily, a weekly, a monthly process, gradually changing opinions, slowly eroding old barriers, quietly building new structures.”
— John F. Kennedy
I know Justin will be there. I know we can face difficult things together. Even if our future does not look exactly like the one I once dreamed about, I believe we can still create a beautiful and meaningful life.
That is a major change for me.
A year ago, I was breaking down almost every day. I felt hopeless, overwhelmed, and unsure how much longer I could continue living that way.
The improvements I have made since then are difficult to put into words.
I did not reach this place completely on my own. Justin has stood beside me through some of my hardest days. He has supported my career change which has put a big burden on us financially but my mental health is 100% better, so it was worth it. I have also received support from counselors, people in recovery, friends, family, and others who continued believing in me when I struggled to believe in myself.
They could not do the healing for me, but their love, patience, encouragement, and honesty helped me find the strength to continue doing it. I wouldn’t have been able to start this blog or Serene Efficiency without the encouragement from the people closest in my support group.
I am not claiming everything is perfect. That is very far from the truth.
My life is still complicated. I am still grieving. I am still healing. I am building a business with no outside investment after taking a ginormous pay cut. I am living paycheck to paycheck, which I had not done in over a decade (credit cards). I am still repairing parts of my life and trying to understand who I am after everything that has happened.
But I am healthier.
I am happier.
I understand myself better. I am far more self-aware. I protect my peace more carefully. I recognize unhealthy behavior sooner, sometimes immediately.
I am learning that my worth is not determined by my income, career title, productivity, relationship status, or whether I have children by a certain age.
Most importantly, I have hope again. The difference is that today, I do not feel as though that hope will most likely disappear the next time something goes wrong.
That may be the biggest change of the past year.
I know life can still hurt me. As we say in recovery, I still have to accept life on life’s terms. There will be more grief, disappointment, anger, fear, and change. But I no longer believe those things can destroy every part of me.
At 37, I am not exactly where I once thought I would be, or even close. The truth is, I never really knew where I thought I would be.
But I am here.
I am sober. I am loved. I am building something meaningful. I am healthier than I was a year ago. And I finally believe that whatever happens next, we will find a way through it.
For the first time, I do not just have hope. I trust it to stay.
Thanks for reading. Until next week, keep healing, keep growing, and keep telling your truth!
“Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.” — Desmond Tutu
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