I spent a day at the gym, distracting myself with pain and sweat, trying to think through all the different lessons that I've learned over the last few years. I came up with quite a few before my legs screamed, "Go home!"
I've talked before about communication and self-esteem. Those are big ones for me. The good news is, those things are within my control. I can decide to improve communication, and I can choose to see myself in a different light.
But this is love I'm talking about here - it's not all in my control. A lot of it is luck and timing and just what fate and God and the universe and Cupid have planned.
So where does hope fall in all of this?
It's a funny thing, hope. Too much, and you set yourself up with unrealistic expectations - and huge let-downs. Not enough, and you don't look forward to anything. Where's the balance? What's the right amount?
Part of me doesn't want to hope. Ever. I feel like every time I let myself be even the tiniest bit positive, I have the rug pulled out from underneath me. But another part of me thinks that life is just better with hope. You never know if the next day might be the best day of your life - but without hope, you'll never get there.
Maybe the trick is to hope for the best. Hope for things to turn out the way they're meant to. Speak positive thoughts. Smile more than not. Laugh whenever possible. Be prepared for a little disappointment, but realize that even when that happens, something good could still be on its way.
I think the trick is have just enough hope that you know there's something good in your future, but not so much that you miss out on your present because you're always looking ahead.
I guess I'll start by hoping I can do all of that.