10 Gems in the Treasure Chest of Hope

Being at “wit’s end” doesn’t do it justice. You’re beyond desperate! You feel as though you’re fragmenting into tiny pieces, and you have no concept of hope. “I can’t take this anymore,” you proclaim.

I love hearing from my readers. Many times I’ll receive an email from a total stranger, he or she spilling their guts regarding their personal chaos. Well, that’s one of the reasons I have a Contact page. Click here if you’d like to use it.

I’m sitting here in a windowed and warm living room on a raw winter’s day in Michigan. But the sun’s shining and the eight or so inches of snow that was on the ground has melted away.

I’m in one of those spiritual writing moods, and want to share a personal message of hope.

My Past (Your Present?)

Over my 56 years on this planet, I’ve had my moments of massive despair. Times, indeed, when I felt myself fragmenting into so many tiny pieces. Worse yet, having no clue as to where the will and strength to move forward would come from.

Most of you know I was at one time held prisoner in the hell of panic and generalized anxiety disorders, anxiety-generated depression, and alcoholism. Through tons of hard work, I had the great fortune of making it out. And I found my life’s passion and work along the way.

But don’t ever forget, I was on the mat and the referee’s 10-count had hit 9. There were days that I could barely see through the swelling of derealization, depersonalization, teeth-grinding anxiety, snake’s belly mood, medicating with alcohol, and having absolutely no concept of hope.

I say it time and again, if I emerged from my living hell; there’s no reason in the world why you can’t. If you think that isn’t true, please write me and present your proof.

10 Gems in the Treasure Chest of Hope

I want to share 10 of the foundational feelings, thoughts, and behaviors that brought me to, and through, my recovery…

  1. I am a human being, and by design I am not intended to be this way.
  2. My circumstances have to be the result of a specific event or series of events – which no doubt can be resolved. My situation, then, is not permanent.
  3. I have to keep moving forward. It’s either that or check-out. And what choices have I then?
  4. There are no anatomical or physiological horrors going on in my brain – no tumors, malformations, etc.
  5. I might as well catch a chuckle or two along the way. After all, some of the things I’m doing are pretty funny.
  6. As much as I hate what’s going on, and frightened beyond belief, there must be a purpose in all of this. And it’s up to me to find it. And if I can’t just now, finding it down the road is all the more reason to carry on.
  7. 99.9% of the things I think are going on here are based in catastrophizing (a common phenomenon where we buy-in to only the worst possible scenarios).
  8. I was feeling just fine at one point in my life. And since I don’t have a basketball-sized tumor in my head, there’s no reason why I can’t feel that way again.
  9. Never long to be the way I used to be. I mean, why search for the living amongst the dead? I’m already feeling miserable, so roll the bones on the new and improved – living – Bill.
  10. Hope and forward motion may not seem like much to go on; however, they’re all I have. Period.

Let’s Wrap

All those years ago, I’d have given anything to read what I just wrote. But not a whole lot was known about emotional and mental situations such as ours. And you sure didn’t talk about them publicly.

But things are different today, and I’ve brought what I longed for to your front porch. Can you hear me knocking? Why don’t you open the door, which will open so many more doors for you?

Take my message to heart and let it work for you. To deny it would be to invalidate my story. And you just can’t do that!

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