Hope that Refuses to Die

I keep telling myself that the path to my own peace and happiness is to let go of hope, let go of the idea that anything will change for the better. Holding on to the expectation that things can get better in my marriage is, in my opinion, a root cause for so much of my anguish. Because when things DON'T change and the same situation presents itself over and over again, I'm beyond disappointed. And instead of building up a tolerance for that disappointment, I become more raw with each let down, becoming quicker to anger and despair.

For about 3 weeks or so, I've been testing a combination of remedies for this chronic case of delusional hope (or anxiety/depression, whatever you want to call it). I started taking an anti-anxiety medication prescribed by my OB-GYN that I filled but never took at P's "expert" advice. (He insists medication only hides the problem for now, and all the issues will just come back with a vengeance once off medication.) I've also adopted a philosophy of trying to care a lot less. Combined with weaning off the breast pump and a baby who is growing more and more content and easy (for naps and individual play), it's been a pretty calm, dare I say, pleasant time.

When things are quiet like they are now, I start to doubt myself. If I can change the environment by being quiet myself and holding back, why can't I just keep doing that? Is it all my fault? Is he right about me? But then a situation erupts and I'm reminded again that I don't create this world by myself. So it becomes a waiting game, like staring at a bomb whose timer just reads "soon" instead of a countdown.

Hope also starts to creep its way back in during times like these. Are things really getting better? Is something different this time? Maybe this time it'll stick. Like a stubborn weed, hope insists on sticking around and makes its presence known through an unintended show of affection or endearing thought about P, and I almost feel like I'm betraying myself. Don't be a fool. You can't be happy. It won't last. This is not your life. It's as if while trying to filter it out, collecting only the callouses and bitterness, hope keeps finding it's way back in stealthily, unnoticed until I step back and realize, oh hey...there it is.

But maybe this is the right thing. If I don't look at it so cynically, it's really that I'm trying to find my joy in other places than my marriage. It sounds sad at first, but is this what it's like to learn to not idolize my husband or my marriage? Is all the heartache and pain a result of idolatry, and God is just surgically removing what I had fused to my heart that shouldn't be there? It's true that I had always dreamed that marriage would complete me, fulfill me. And while I can now admit that maybe I rushed into marriage with the wrong person out of pure desperation and fear for what it might mean if this didn't happen, I didn't think I was idolizing him, or marriage, for that matter.

This is a hard path of thought to follow, because to be honest, my faith is so little these days that I no longer find joy in God, in thinking of Him, in singing for/to Him, as I used to. Much like the needling feelings of doubt I felt before getting married, I would rather put God in a box for now, shove Him in the back of my closet, and ignore it for now. It's too painful to look at Him, to talk to Him, to think too deeply. For now, I'd rather live in black and white, and let the dust settle, the wounds heal bit, before looking any closer.