The fight between fear and hope

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The fight between fear and hope

I’ve always been the kind of person that looks forward to the future, to what tomorrow will bring. I’ve always believed that even when today didn’t offer what we hoped for, tomorrow could finally bring that change. Hope for the future. I’ve always believed that tomorrow would be better. Because it was in our hands to make it better.

Life taught me that isn’t true. At least not entirely. The things that matter the most, the ones we hold dearest in our hearts, are the ones we cannot control. The ones we cannot plan for. We can only plan with caution, and hope for the best. That realization has also introduced fear into my life. Lots of it.

Since Sahar left us, I realised that the way I was living life was not what I wanted for the rest of it. It put everything, and I mean everything into perspective. It made me completely redefine my priorities in life. It made me ask myself all over again: What is important in life? What do I want out of it? What are my ambitions? What are my goals? And my answers were completely different than a month before. I talked about it with my husband, and it turns out he realised much of the same things I did. So we agreed on one thing: we’re going to make changes. Major changes. Changes that will bring us closer to living our lives to match our new ambitions and priorities.

The fact that we’re making these completely new plans for the future, is a good thing. Normally, this would be extremely exciting for me. And it is, in part that is. I can go completely crazy when thinking of the future. When planning the future. Because that’s what I am, a planner. A meticulous and precise planner. That’s who I’ve always been. You would find every one of my workouts planned out in my agenda. You would even find items in there like “Shopping” with my lists made in the description of the event. I had everything completely planned and figured out for the rest of my pregnancy, from the birth list to filling the fridge to prepare for her arrival. I am a planner. And it’s precisely because I am such a meticulous planner, that I feel so lost and scared today. Because I realise that all my plans could easily be erased with one unexpected turn in life. I cannot forget how hard it was for me to get notifications from my agenda after we lost Sahar… “Choose a nursery” is the last one that came up on my iPhone before I decided to erase them all. I haven’t added a single event since I erased all those that were so important to us. Because I’m afraid to do so.

And I’m afraid of all those other plans we’re making. Don’t get me wrong. I am so very glad we’re on the same level and that we want the same things, and especially, that we want to pursue them together. But that excitement and hope is accompanied by a great amount of fear. What about all those plans and new priorities? Will we ever manage to realise them? To reach all those new goals we set ourselves? It scares me to think we won’t. It scares me to think I’ll fail. It scares me to think life will decide otherwise for us. It scares me to think that things won’t improve. I would do everything to be able to push the “Fast forward”-button on my life for a year or so. To be able to gasp into the future and know what’s coming. But then again, do we really want to?

Lost in thoughts, lost in the desire to find that fast-forward button I was so eager to push, I realised that if I let fear win over hope, we will lose this fight anyway. You cannot pursue your dreams if you don’t fight, hope, and believe in them unconditionally. So I choose to fight. I choose to hope. I choose to believe. And that makes me vulnerable all over again. Vulnerable to be hurt again. But if I don’t put myself out there again, if I don’t engage in this fight anymore, then one thing is certain: I will have lost already.

I choose to win. I choose to plan for a better tomorrow. I choose to hope in a happy future. I choose to fight for our dreams. I choose to do this, hand in hand with my husband. Let’s do this. Whatever may come our way. We’re together. We can do this. And that doesn’t mean the fear is all gone. It means I’m willing to face it. It means I’m willing to fight it.

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