A Symbol of Hope

I am sure I have told this story before on this blog (probably last Christmas), but I think that it's good enough to share again. There is a four letter word that is powerful, and means a lot to me. It's a word that has many meanings to many people. It's a word that carries the dreams and anxieties of many.

That word is hope. 

Hope is something I believed 3 years ago I did not possess. I was hopeless, helpless, and in all seriousness I was constantly on the verge of death. I felt alone, even when surrounded by masses of people. Do you know how bizarre it feels to feel so alone in a crowd? It is the strangest thing, and not a type of feeling I was getting used to. It happened all of the time, but never ceased to make me feel uncomfortable. 

I was going through the motions at that time. It had been about 7 months since I had been raped, but I was hitting a point where the seriousness of the situation finally had begun to hit. It was my senior year of college and I was a fireball of stress. I was having panic attacks on a consistent basis, and I felt like my world was crashing down around me. College is hard enough. Relationships are hard enough. Throw in a sexual assault and stir in some PTSD and what you have just created is a disaster. I didn't know what to do with myself. Two failed suicide attempts later (one may not count to many as an attempt, but it counts to me) and I was a hot mess.

No one needed me. If I was gone no one would miss me. I was convinced I would flunk out of school even though my supervisor was doing everything in her power to pull me through. My roommates were starting to slink back into the shadows of their own lives. Friends I once had, had chosen his side and decided that I was not worthy of their friendship. I was alone, I was sad, and I was afraid. I constantly feared for my life but was often met with the words of those who were trying to encourage, but only made it worse. 

"You have nothing to be afraid of...", they said.

"It's been 6 months.", they retorted. 

"You're safe. You're going to be ok."

As far as I was concerned, as long as he was free I was not safe. As long as he walked this earth I would never be safe. Even to this day I am fearful. I am not in a constant state of fear, but there are still those moments where I want to lock myself in my home and never leave. If I lock myself in, he'll never get to me. 

I was not going home for Christmas this year as I had to work the holiday in order to pay some of my bills. I felt so alone it hurt. 

One night I decided to just drive around town and maybe look at some Christmas lights. I drove to Cookout and ordered an Eggnog milkshake (delicious!). I started driving in no particular direction and soaked in the different neighborhood Christmas displays. Some 30 minutes later I drove, by chance, through the Sunset Hills neighborhood and that's when something changed in me. 

I saw the most beautiful Christmas lights I have ever seen in my life. 

If you have never driven through that neighborhood let me explain this to you. They wrap twinkle lights around chicken wire to form balls. They then string them throughout the trees. These lights hang down and encase the neighborhood in beautiful, twinkling, colorful lights. 

Those lights were literally my light in the midst of darkness. I was filled with so much joy as my car crept through the quiet street. They opened something within my heart and filled me with so much peace. I deserved to live. I was needed. I just simply had to be reminded of the beauty of the world. I watched couples slowly making their way down the sidewalk soaking in this sight as much as they could. It was incredible. 

Every night until January, I drove down those streets with an eggnog milkshake in hand. I would blast Christmas music (mostly Glee...I was obsessed at the time) and I would smile. 

Those lights were my symbol of hope.

Tonight I took a trip down memory lane. I grabbed an eggnog milkshake from Cookout (keeping the tradition alive) and drove through Sunset Hills admiring my small, but mighty, symbols of hope. 

I now place my hope in a power higher than some strings of Christmas lights. Those lights didn't completely fix me, but they helped me to hang on a little longer. I know now that coming across this neighborhood and these lights was no accident. I didn't believe in God at the time, but looking back I know His hand was in that moment. I truly believe He orchestrated my trip so that I could have more time to make a difference and leave my mark on this world. 

Tonight I am thankful for many things. I am thankful for the people who have walked in and out of my life. I am thankful for my 13 little blessings. I am grateful for the people who have, and continue to mentor me. I am, however, especially thankful for eggnog milkshakes, balls of sparkling Christmas lights, and hope.