“How do you stay so strong?”
People asked me that question over and over and over last year when my husband was fighting brain cancer. It was the most stressful time in my life and there were days, weeks even, that I didn’t feel strong. I often wondered if people assumed a strength I didn’t possess. I wasn’t faking “fine” and I certainly wasn’t stoic about it. I felt everything through the 14-month journey, including waves of doubt, middle-of-the-night fear and stinging tears of anticipatory grief. Yet, hope is a source of strength, and I had hope in spite of his scary diagnosis. I buoyed my hope by choosing to surround myself with friends whose strength reinforced mine, and I was grateful to apply my faith and coach training with intentional daily practices.
Fortunately, in my case, the six years prior to his diagnosis were marked by growth: in faith, trust and hope. These are all intertwined, so by the time I most needed hope as an anchor, I’d learned it wasn’t futile. Hope allowed me to experience peace, to give and receive love, to appreciate moments of joy, and to live on purpose in the hardest of circumstances. It also led me to stay present (rather than allowing my mind to fly to an unknown future) so I could take meaningful action, one small step at a time, one day at a time. In a previous chapter of my life, I had experienced the opposite of hope - despair - which made me feel paralyzed, cynical, flighty and emotionally disconnected. I’m grateful that I’ve learned I can trust what’s true: there’s always hope. That’s true for me, and it’s true for you, too!
Given the state of the world and the potential negative effect that current news can have on our individual hope meters, I want to share one simple coaching concept that you can apply to any situation to increase hope. This tool is based on neuroscience, and if you’re a person of faith, it’s also based on scripture. The concept can be summed up by the idea that “your energy goes where your attention flows,” or “what you focus on expands.” The way that works in practice is that our thoughts inform our feelings, and our feelings drive our outcomes and behavior. Let me break that down, step by step, in terms of hope.
Our thoughts are our choice. We are in total control of what we choose to think. Contrary to popular belief, hope is not a feeling. It's a deep, unshakable belief in what’s possible. As Brené Brown puts it, “Hope is not an emotion, it’s a way of thinking or a cognitive process.” Since what I think is totally in my control, that’s great news. I chose hope.
Our thoughts inform our feelings. Often we believe our feelings come first, but our feelings are rooted in thoughts. So when our feelings are volatile, it’s a signal that our thoughts are too. Choosing (believing, thinking) hope helped me to keep a positive perspective regardless of the circumstances. I could focus on statistics and simultaneously sink into fear, or I could choose hope and experience peace and optimism. Choosing hope allowed me to feel more loving, calm, grateful … as well as curious / open to possibilities, committed, and purposeful.
Our feelings drive our actions and behavior. Choosing hope and feeling peace, optimism, love, etc, allowed me to remain emotionally connected to my husband when he needed me most, rather than withdrawing in self-protective behavior that’s typical of a fearful response. Right to the very end, I could be “all in” and not become lethargic like I might have if I felt despair and didn’t see the point in bothering at all. I was a better caregiver because my thoughts and feelings led to living and giving love.
This exercise can be reverse engineered by first deciding what action you’d like to take, considering how you’d feel if you were taking action, and understanding the thought that would be behind it. Of course, everything hinges on who or what we anchor our thoughts on … truth matters. Hope is anchored on something bigger than us … and unless it’s something firm, it’s bound to disappoint. Doctors, medicines, clinical trials, and likewise, careers, bank accounts, relationships, and self-sufficiency are not strong enough anchors, and can lead to dashed hopes and disappointment. In the cognitive process that I went through, I never stopped hoping with every fiber of my being that my husband would be healed. But I also recognized that even if he wasn’t, my life still had meaning, unique purpose and future happiness in store. Unraveling my hope from the outcome I desired allowed me to enjoy his good days without fear, and be present in the hard days without bitterness. Going through that process before he died allowed me to not have regrets after he died. But that’s more about grief, and a topic for a future blog.
I heard someone say recently that the current crisis has them stuck in their head and that’s a dangerous neighborhood to hang out in for a prolonged time. If you can relate, and want to get unstuck, please schedule a free half hour phone call with me. I’ll help you break through, and anchor yourself on a true thought that restores hope! I’m looking forward to speaking soon!
