I Decide to Hope

If you don't know, I love the show How I Met Your Mother. I've watched the series numerous times, and if I just want to have something on in the background, it's my typical Netflix-binge show. I've had a lot of people tell me that they don't understand how I can watch it, either because the characters are "horrible people" or because others just don't think it's funny. I for one think it's hilarious, and while one definitely shouldn't emulate Barney, overall it has some pretty good lessons, such as "Some people have expiration dates," "Nothing good ever happens after 2 AM," and "You're not looking for someone who accepts your quirks, you're looking for someone who loves them, cherishes them, and loves you more as a person because of them". But one of the most memorable quotes comes from the last season of HIMYM. This comes from the episode "The Lighthouse," right after the main character, Ted, had taken a woman up to a romantic spot at the top of the lighthouse. That date did not go well, and afterwards Ted thought that his chances of finding his future wife were gone, but at that moment, the narrator interrupts and says: "And that kids, is the kind of stupid thing you say before you've met the person who hits the reset button on the world. Who makes everything new again. Who makes it seem ridiculous that you ever considered settling."

I would say that I've had my share of bad 'lighthouse' moments, where the overwhelming evidence of failure eclipse the hope of success in the future. Not just about relationships. This feeling is universal for everyone in many situations: When you're sure you're going to get fired, failing a test, the dreaded 'We need to talk' text, or the words I read yesterday "I'm not interested anymore." While all of these situations have their own repercussions, I've noticed the initial impact is all the same: a metallic taste, the stomach attempting to wring itself out as if it's a wet towel, and a numbness in the tongue like local anesthesia at the dentist. During this flood of emotions yesterday, I wished that I was in a situation where I needed to run and do something, not to just take my mind off of the situation at hand, but so as to force my body to something besides sit still in a comatose state with a figurative knife in my heart.

I used to audition for plays all the time in middle school and high school, where I would take hours to prepare my monologue and throw my heart and soul into my performance. My father would always tell me not to get my hopes up, and that way if I didn't get the part I wanted, I wouldn't be so disappointed and if I did get the part, it would just be a happy surprise. So, I would play it cool like I didn't care about what happened. But I did care. I always cared. And I was always crushed.

Why do I do this to myself? Why do all of us on this spinning blue sphere do this to ourselves? We hope and believe that something better is going to come our way, and when we finally see that thing coming in the distance, it makes a sharp left into a forest where you can't see where it's going. Worse than that, we then chase it because we think it's what we deserve.

As much as I want to relate this cycle of hope and disappointment to every kind of situation, in my life it's most evident in my relationships. I wouldn't say I wear my heart on my sleeve, but it's in a very accessible pocket. I am very conscious about who I let myself like, date, and love; and the more bad experiences I have, the more conscious I am. That doesn't mean I'm reluctant to put myself out there. I love opening up to people about life, my experiences, everything, but that doesn't mean I like being vulnerable. Especially that moment when you're standing on the ledge, not knowing if the person at the bottom will catch you. Hoping. But not knowing. 

This means when I fall, and I fall hard. If I'm sobbing, you'll never know if my family pet has died or if it was just a stressful day where nothing went right. If I am mad, I am fierce with my words. When I'm scared, I might as well be a small child who lost her mother in a strange city. And I burn out easily.

But I also love hard. Joy comes to me easily. I'm loyal and I fight for those I love. I think there are many people like me who feel deeply, but suppress the urge to show our emotions because it's 'cool.' It's 'attractive' to only be happy or, once in a while, stressed. And it's 'safe' to pretend you don't care, until you know the other person cares more.

I believe there are those who feel deeply. I know these people. They are the ones who get crushed by life everyday, but try again the next. They are those who, when their best friend experiences a death of a loved one, doesn't comfort them by saying "Their suffering is over" or "They're in a better place," but "That sucks, and you have the right to be sad and miss them as much as you need to." They are those who empathize before evaluating. They are those who desperately want to believe that the best of their life is yet to come and that one never runs out of chances. They are those who hope.

"The Lighthouse" episode from HIMYM ends with a glimpse into the future, two years after Ted's terrible lighthouse date. And at the same place that he decided he may have run out of chances, he proposes to 'The Mother' after whom the show is named.

I know it's a show and all scripted, but I also hope it's true that out of the blue I'll meet someone who makes everything new again and will make me happy I never settled for something that's not what I want.

I decide to hope.