Hope: in these times and circumstances?
The tagline for my therapy practice is “therapy for folks seeking hope in our world.” I admit I’d contemplated others: most were about how broken or fucked the world is and how to cope with that. But, only seeing reality as it arguably is and learning how to cope with that reality isn’t necessarily folks’ goal when they start therapy. So, why hope? Because I’d been reading several books that describe hope as a verb, and that version of hope resonated with me.
Hope as a noun implies this naive idea that somehow things will be okay. It suggests that just by holding onto this idea, things will improve. That others will do the work. It doesn’t imply discomfort; in fact, it’s almost the opposite. Sarah Jaquette Ray, in A Field Guide to Climate Anxiety, suggests folks talk about hope as merely “add[ing] a spoonful of sugar to help the apocalypse go down” (Ray, 2020, p. 121). She writes about hope as an afterthought–a way to try to make the news mirror those children’s stories with which we all grew up that end happily ever after. Ray (2020) states the purpose of her book isn’t to help people feel hopeful but instead to feel efficacious.
Hope as a verb
I want people to practice or to exercise hope. And that’s where hope needs to be understood as a verb; just as we practice to get better at something, we engage in hope (as a verb). None of us can expect everything to be okay without making a concerted effort, without taking some action (whether emotionally, as in actively noting our attitude and outlook and working on that, or physically, as in lending a hand and participating in activism). I think we’ve all heard the Einstein quotation, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” In the same way, you can’t just sit there and expect stuff–whether that’s the state of the world, a toxic work environment, a dissatisfying career, an unending to do list, an unhealthy relationship–to change. You actually have to change how you respond or, in some circumstances, how you understand a situation. A person generally isn’t going to get past their trauma if they don’t commit to doing some work, whether with a professional or on their own; and even if they do the work, they may have to do more work later because rarely are all triggers erased immediately. Similarly, a person isn’t generally going to get over depression by staying in bed.
Wanting different results requires something of us. I’ve read and heard numerous conceptualizations of hope as something other than a wishful thought. In a collection of essays in Not Too Late, Rebecca Solnit (2023, p. 186) referenced abolitionist Mariame Kaba’s words, “hope is a discipline.” A discipline inspires on-going work; when you’re disciplined, it’s harder to allow yourself to do something one day but forget about it the next. A discipline requires ongoing commitment. (This isn’t to say there can’t be days when you don’t engage in the practice of rest–which is also important and instrumental when you want to keep doing the work and not burnout.) I also recall listening to a podcast in which Brene Brown was interviewing Anand Giridharadas; they discussed hope as a cognitive behavioral process that involved an attainable goal, a pathway to get there, and one’s agency, or ability, to take that pathway. This conceptualization of hope also emphasizes empowerment.
I don’t want folks to think that engaging in a discipline necessarily means taking observational actions, like engaging in volunteer work or activism. (This could be the case, but it may not be.) While such undertakings may help someone find community or feel like they’re part of a collective, the practice of hope needs to occur first in the mind rather than through the body and hands being explicitly involved in a project. Further, before you can practice hope, you might need to feel all the discomfort and distress and despair and grief; if these uncomfortable feelings aren’t felt, they’ll probably overwhelm whatever hope you’re able to muster.
Therapy encourages hope
As a therapist who wants to help people in Seattle and throughout Washington engage in this practice or discipline or exercise of hope, I know developing any new routine isn’t easy. Sometimes people compare therapy to going to a gym. It takes some preparation, motivation, and willpower; it takes patience and continued self-discipline and physical effort over time. (You don’t expect to become physically fit or strong after one gym session, right?) Whether you want to practice hope to keep you from spiraling deeper into depression or anxiety (or succumbing to doom-based thinking), whether you want to practice hope to overcome the burnout that prevents you from adding activism to your plate, or whether you want to practice hope in the context of career-change or living in accord with your values, therapy will help you cultivate and grow the mindset and efficacy to believe you can make a difference as part of a collective.
I’m not saying therapy will fix everything. In fact, it’s probably only a small piece of the hope in which any one person needs to engage. But where it could help is through some reframing: therapy may help you understand that your worst fears won’t always come to fruition. (Even in the realm of climate change, an unstoppable linear path isn’t a completely foregone conclusion.) Therapy could help you get past that black-and-white thinking that prevents you from exercising hope because you tell yourself this little thing you do won’t make a difference so don’t bother or because you tell yourself that everyone needs to take a specific action or that action won’t make a difference. In fact, lots of small actions can make a collective difference, as can lots of people taking small steps. Talking about what’s in the way of your engaging in hope may be what you need to start feeling the efficacy and empowerment you need.