DESPAIR IN THE NAME OF REALISM

I penned this post a few weeks ago, and I must admit that it was difficult to reread the very real emotions I felt due to putting myself in a pit of despair. Through the days that have followed, I have recognized my Savior helping to tow me out, and one way through which He did this was through Elder and Sister Holland's Worldwide Devotional for Young Adults on January 8, 2023.

Elder and Sister Holland covered many of the struggles I, and I think many of us face, so much so that I couldn't just stick a quote into my own words and have it suffice. It would have had to be the whole thing. So, instead I've linked it. Please give it a listen, I promise it will help to restore the hope you've lost.

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The start of a new year. A fresh page that feels glorious, but one I've never really felt the urge to mark. I have never been ambitious enough to analyze and assign myself resolutions, or focus the upcoming twelve months on a word or phrase to aspire to.

Call it being content or being lazy, New Year's Day passes with very little fanfare in my life.

Until, that is, the dawn of 2022. 2022, I was confident, would roll around with big, big changes for me.

I'd sent my first manuscript, I Prefer Spinster, to a publisher months before, and felt confident that the fact they had not yet contacted me with a rejection meant my book was moving along in the process.

I'd received news that an article I'd submitted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saint's magazine, The Liahona, was going to be printed, and just knew this was breakthrough I'd been waiting for. Finally, others besides those in my beloved friends and family were going to read my work.

As a published author, I'd finally be able to stand on my own two feet. Finally, be proud of myself. Perhaps even be willing to begin dating, for I would not be humiliated every time the prospective suitor inquired what I did for a living. "Author", sounds far, far better than, "in-house dog sitter".

2022 just had a different feel to it. A different ring, one I felt was going to carry resounding effects into the rest of my life.

My assumption for the New Year was correct, but not in any of the ways I had hoped.

The rejection letter from the publishers came, and two more followed soon after.

The article, though receiving support and rallying calls from already incredible followers, did not have the translation into fresh readers.

And finally, after going out on the date my high-school self had dreamed up in her wildest fantasies, I was informed that it was, in fact, not a date at all.

I am not ashamed to say that after each failed hope, it took a beat to pick myself up and begin again. Blessedly, I was already deep in the midst of the second draft of my second book when the last "no" came in, or I don't know if my next project would have ever seen the light of day. I've attempted to submit more articles to various magazines, with little to no success. And dating? I've basically sworn off of it. (Not just because of this specific encounter, but the entire continuum of my dating experience.)

In order to keep forging ahead, I sought for any footing I could find in this unknown world of 2022. Where had I gone wrong? Where was the missed turn? Had that been my only exit? Would I forever be stuck on this endless loop of failure?

Floundering, I subconsciously found a life raft to cling to: Realism.

Clearly, this is where my glaring mistakes had stemmed from. I'd let my imagination run wild. I'd let my hopes get out of control, and by doing so, set myself up for failure. How could I foolishly have let myself believe any of these above encounters would end as I had hoped? They had not in the past. Shouldn't I have been learning from my past missteps, rather than repeating them and expecting different results?

Though this new outlook on life manifested itself in every aspect of my life and road I tried to pursue, it was most evident in writing. In so many ways typing out my second novel-to-be so was so much easier, garnered with an expertise earned from years of hard-work. And yet, picking it up each time was nearly impossible, because of the thoughts circling inside my head.

"Why bother? The first didn't get published, why would this one?"

"You are wasting your time. It's time to find a real job."

"You really think anyone is going to want to read this? Besides the four people who read your blog?"

"No one is going to like this storyline."

"You're having so much trouble with it because it's not going to work out."

"He's not listening. He can't hear your cries. And even if He did, it wouldn't change anything. The outcome has already been set."

"It's not going to work out."

Armed with my realistic mindset, and well aware of the minuscule chances of success, I somehow managed to push ahead. With help from above that I sometimes recognized.

Sometimes, because this logical approach to things was pushing me far, far into despair. It was carrying me away from the people and things I loved. It was pushing me away from the light, from hope, from joy, from Him.

Thinking failure was the only possible result, how could I ever trust Him? How could I believe that He loved me, when He was putting me through this? When He was gearing up to put me through something so much harder? How could I believe in the "unbelievable happiness" promised of Him when I had the year of heartache and sorrow staring back at me?

Now, here we must take a caveat. There is nothing wrong with being a realist. It is important to understand the possibilities of what can and cannot be, and perhaps my naive spirit did not take these factors into account. However, in the scenario listed above, Negative (N)ellie clearly took full control of my life, and I needed to root her out.

Because, I wasn't happy. I wasn't better off seeing things as they "really" were. I was devastated. Heartbroken. Unmotivated. Faithless. Hopeless. Just making it by and not really living.

Things really started to culminate as the Christmas season rolled around. As others spoke of their knowledge of the Savior, of their trust in Him, of the goodness of the gift that was Him, and the joy they found in the hope He gave, I found nothing.

No feelings. No Christmas joy. Definitely no hope. My Christmas was blanketed in bitterness, rather than excitement. Instead of the beauty of possibilities filling this season and the one that would follow, I found a panicked desire to get my book out there and over with. I didn't want to see it or look at it again, because I knew what it would bring.

Despair. Just as every other hope had brought.

In his talk, "A Perfect Brightness of Hope" from the April 2020 General Conference, Elder Jeffrey R. Holland states, "Indeed, if we finally lose hope, we lose our last sustaining possession."

Not trusting my Savior at Christmastime was the wake-up call I needed. This beautiful present, this ultimate bestowal of hope and possibilities, was having no effect on me, because I was choosing to be "realistic".

I was surviving off of despair in the name of realism, and it was beginning to choke me. Had been, for months.

So, as 2023 approaches, I cannot say that I am excited. Nervous better sums up my emotional state. I won't dare say this is the year big changes are coming my way. I can't quite bring myself to label the year, "hope". And I will not make a resolution to "be more positive", because we know I'd never be able to keep that.

Rather, I am just going to do my best to trust Him. Not for the year, or for another set amount of time. Day by day, I am going to try to trust His judgement, His love, His care, His concern, and His plan.

Because though His plans may not be my own, I have hope that they will be far greater than anything I imagined. Even my absurd fantasies. They will be everything I never knew I wanted. And these off-routes will be stops along the path that get me there.

I believe that, is the best marrying of hope and realism I can offer.

"We have every reason to hope for blessings even greater than those we have already received because this is the work of Almighty God, this is the Church of continuing revelation, this is the gospel of Christ's unlimited grace and benevolence." (Holland, "A Perfect Brightness of Hope", April 2020)