Hope Hasn't Killed Me Yet

I'm not very good at not getting my hopes up. I like to think that things will work out in just the right way that will result in the best for everyone involved. Sure, I've been more than disappointed on an number of occasions, but until the disappointment I got to enjoy the pleasure to anticipating in hope.

When we first learned about my fibromyalgia, I was tremendously hopeful that this would lead quickly to ways of feeling better. Sadly, it hasn't. But the way I see it is those hope-filled days didn't kill me and I am suffering no more now than I would have had I not felt hopeful. (But it's still early in the symptom management process, so there is still hope for feeling better!)

Often folks look at me crosswise when I talk about my hopeful plans, especially the ones about having greate teen-aged boys and eventually daughters-in-law who adore me. Even those who don't say it with words certainly express with their expressions the standard you-can-hope-all-you-want-but-you-can't-control-who-those-boys-marry response.

But I don't sit around hoping and not doing anything to influence things to turn out well. I have got to be one of the most compliant patients most doctors have ever seen. And I've been working for years on influencing the love of my future daughters-in-law. I have taught my boys to clean, do laundry, cook, bake, and generally be independent. I have instructed them in respect and the proper ways to treat a girl. And I have said more than once, and only partially tongue-in-cheek, that I know they would not marry anyone who could not love me...it's simply not in their natures.

Of course I know there are no guarantees in life. The best raised children sometimes grow up into complete messes and those who seemed to have no chance manage quite well. But why should I expect the worst when I can hope for the best?

So when I get that crosswise look, I just smile and say, "Hope hasn't killed me yet."