The Price Hope

Normally I sit down to write throughout the week when I feel inspired to, but this week I waited until my (self-appointed) deadline, because my original topic was bound to ruffle some feathers. And as much as I value self-expression, I value peace much, much more, so I needed to come up with a different topic. As I was sitting thinking to myself, why was my original topic so important to me? Why was it sitting on my heart to want to write about it so badly, and I think I came to a conclusion. It's because it scratches the surface of a much deeper and personal topic: hope. Specifically, what it costs to hope.

First, however, we have to define hope. According to oxford dictionary, hope is "a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen" or "a feeling of trust." When I think of hope, I next think of optimism. The concept of believing that things will work out, even if you don't have clear proof. Many people think of hope as a saving grace, the thing to get them through, but I view hope very differently depending on the situation.

I general, hope comes with a risk: disappointment, and how deeply engrained said hope is will determine the depth and impact of the disappointment. Even when you put in the work, sometimes there is still that risk of disappointment. Obviously, it's not a guaranteed risk, but it is a serious one. In order to truly have hope, you must come to terms with the fact that you may be disappointed. Let me give an example.

When I was graduating, I spent a lot of time applying for jobs and watching content about post grad life. Many of the videos revolved around how terrible the job market is for post grads, especially Psychology majors - my exact situation. Despite everything I remained hopeful, choosing to believe that I would land a full-time position that paid well and that I didn't hate, yet here I am 7 months later, working 2 part time jobs, one of which I hate. Needless to say, I experienced one disappointment after another. Every job I hoped for I was passed for, and the one job I did get, I was unable to accept because of circumstance. Needless to say, I stopped hoping after that and accepted my circumstances.

During this fiasco - I was also looking at grad school, hoping that getting in to grad school would help me feel better about my lack thereof job prospects. I applied to only 1 grad school, not wanting to get my hopes up, and I got in. But I quickly realized the cost associated with it and made a game plan to pay for it myself. It's rather inexpensive for graduate school, so I believed that I could pay for it myself rather than taking out tens of thousands of dollars in loans per semester. I regained hope that I'd find a job that paid enough for me to fund my own education. Because of all the 'no's' I received during my attempt at job hunting. I kept my hopes rather low but still worked hard. Adjusting my resume over and over with thinking that would help. Applying for things I was over-qualified for, under-qualified, even jobs I knew I'd hate. Yet, here I am. I experienced so many disappointments; I even considered withdrawing with school, only deciding recently that I'd rather work hard and struggle now than hate myself for not at least trying.

In both of these situations, my high hopes led to repeated disappointments despite my hard work, and frankly, each broke my heart just a little bit more. Which leads me to believe that the price of hope is not only disappointment but heartbreak. Even when we look at it from a social standpoint. We hope for better relationships with others, and yet they do nothing but hurt and disappoint you. We hope to find love, only to be met with rejection, incompatibility and straight up heartbreak.

Hope is often marketed a solution to the negative, but at what point does the cost of hope become justified?