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by Ken Stewart, Ph.D.
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I'm in the profession of hope. Each hour I spend with a client
is like an "archeology of hope," if you will, uncovering
evidence that things will get better for them: that depression
will fade, that fighting will be give way to respect, that anxiety
will be transformed into tranquility. But there's another kind
of hope that leads more to terror than tranquility, that inflicts
pain instead of easing it. This is what I call "destructive
hope."
I've seen destructive hope destroying the lives of battered
women when they keep hoping for changes that never show up in
their abusive partners. He promises over and over to change his
abusive practices of pushing, hitting, slapping, or verbally demeaning
her. He promises to stop getting two inches from her face and
screaming at her. He promises not to break any more dishes. He
promises to be a good father. He may even get out the Bible and
quote scripture to her. And within a couple of days or a couple
of weeks he comes back again to intimidate, terrorize and abuse
her. Yet she clings to the relationship in the destructive hope
that somewhere inside his tyrannical impulses good will win out
over evil. She clings to visions of a perfect little house with
a picket fence, kids playing in the yard while a loving mother
and father benignly oversee this domestic bliss, this safe haven.
"He's a good man inside of all that anger," she tells
herself. "He's going through a rough time," she reminds
herself. And, these observations may carry some truth in them.
But her tendency to carry all the emotional responsibility for
the relationship needs a rest. Until he assumes full responsibility
for his abusive practices, for his will to overpower her, for
his sense of destructive entitlement, the relationship will continue
in its dizzying cycle of abuse.
I've also seen destructive hope control gentle, non-abusing men
who have fervently invested themselves in their relationship with
a woman who is "the girl of my dreams." They believe
this to be the perfect match, far better than any woman they have
known. They date for a while, a few months, maybe even longer.
But at some point she decides she no longer wants to continue
the relationship. It's not for her, it doesn't seem like a good
fit, she's not ready for commitment, any number of personally
felt reasons. She'll say things like, "Let's take a break;"
or "I don't think this is working out," or "I need
some time." It's at this point that he starts to fall apart.
The story he tells himself is often one of rejection and humiliation
that he must be this despicable character for her to do
this. Or he may tell himself a story that features him as the
good guy she is foolishly forsaking in her desire to distance
herself from the relationship's intensity. He ends up obsessing
about her day and night. He just isn't willing to let go. Instead,
he clings desperately to images of connubial bliss from earlier
times in the relationship. Ignoring her wishes and his helplessness,
he obsesses about approaching her with compelling words and clever
strategies to win her back. When these don't work he retreats,
feeling shattered and abandon.
Healing hope, on the other hand, is the kind of hope that assists
healing in sick medical patients and pulls them through life-threatening
crises. It's the kind of hope that keeps prisoners of war surviving
in cages for years on end. Healing hope makes an otherwise miserable
life tolerable and can pull people through months of agonizing
suffering. Without the power of healing hope, bodies more quickly
give out and spirits wither. This kind of hope, combined with
faith and love, provide the foundation of Judeo-Christian beliefs.
While healing hope is desirable and ultimately redeeming, destructive
hope eventually wreaks havoc on body and soul. Bodies are battered
and bruised, souls are wounded and shrunk. There is no redemption
in destructive hope. It doesn't connect us to love or nature or
spiritual dimensions. Instead, it disconnects us from positive
feelings about ourselves and our self-worth. It disconnects us
from friends who may try in vain to warn us, to steer us away
from what we refuse to acknowledge. It disconnects us from the
significance of recent memories by creating a tunnel vision that
keeps us fixated on the beauty or charm on the surface (his good
looks and charm; her beauty and warmth), while minimizing or ignoring
the dangers that lie underneath or out of sight (his addiction
to power and abuse; her mixed messages and emotional distance).
By minimizing emotionally or physically abusive behavior, destructive
hope keeps us from paying attention to the signs that suggest
this destructive behavior is part of a continuing pattern. Destructive
hope persists because it disguises itself as healing hope. It
allows us to maintain our innocence, to cling to the delusion
that things will work out, that the other will change, that the
context will change. Destructive hope pulls us into a chaotic
future, promising us a heaven and dumping us in hell.
The inevitabilities of living in an imperfect and mortal world
mean that sooner or later each of us must each face necessary
losses. Life is full of loss: from the loss of the wonderfully
fused relationship we had with our primary caregivers as infants,
to the eventual loss of our aging parents we have as adults. Losses
do more to mark our passages through life than anything else.
They are necessary losses we must face in order to move on, in
order to grow and flourish on our own. Life is an endless series
of endings and beginnings. These rhythms of birth, life, death,
and rejuvenation are deeply ingrained in the genes of our bodies
and in the bowels of the earth. Every ending is a beginning of
something else: a different time, a different place, a different
state of mind. We suffer when we cling to endings that we cannot
face, that we seek to preserve in time. The world revolves and
moves on while we remain stuck in the amber of memory. Only by
taking the leap of faith that we will survive, that we may even
thrive, will we find the courage to let go and begin a new life.
A SURVIVAL GUIDE TO DESTRUCTIVE HOPE
Instead of asking yourself, "Why don't I ever learn?"
ask instead, "What keeps me from learning destructive
hope's harsh lessons? The following ideas may help you escape
from destructive hope's powerful grasp:
 | You may be afraid of loneliness. In order to feel good and
positive about yourself you may have convinced yourself that
you need this person's attention in order to feel worthy, to
feel lovable. Without it, you may feel incomplete. What do you
think you might be avoiding in yourself by
 | You may be confusing healing hope with destructive hope.
"Hope is hope," you may say to yourself; "hope
is a good thing." Not always. Species survive because they
learn how to make distinctions between what is harmful and what
is beneficial. Destructive hope seduces us into minimizing or
glossing over things that we should making finer distinctions
of. Learning to distinguish between healing hope and destructive
hope may be necessary for your emotional or even physical survival.
 | Images of relational bliss the good times may
be blown up to such a size that they block out the darker side
of the relationship. You may be keeping your vision narrow and
your memories selective in order to maintain your illusions of
good times like wearing emotional blinders. If you widened
your vision, what would you see?
 | Your ability to be persistent may be doing you in. Persistence
may be useful to sustain the aches and pains of an athlete getting
in shape or for sustaining endurance when you want to give up,
but sometimes persistence can work against you. Sometimes the
better part of wisdom isn't in stubborn persistence, but in knowing
when to let go, knowing when to quit. Athletes have rest days,
students have to take breaks from studying, and people need to
take breaks from each other when the intensity becomes too much.
 | You may be refusing to mourn. Losses can be painful and hard
to face, even the loss of a relationship that has been bitterly
disappointing or abusive. And grieving just hurts. But the hurt
can be endured. After all, it's only pain. The longer you avoid
the temporary pain of mourning, the longer you will feel miserable.
When you allow yourself to feel this pain, it eventually lessens
and finally transforms itself into wisdom. No pain, no mourning,
no wisdom.
 | You may believe that you will lose your identity if you lose
the relationship. So you hang on in order to preserve a fundamental
sense you have of who you are. You may have to come to define
yourself in terms of your connection to the other person. "Who
am I," you may wonder, "without him / her?" Good
question. What important things about yourself have you missed
because you have made the other person so much of your identity
? Which of your qualities or strengths or interests have you
neglected because of your intense focus on the other?
 | Endings and beginnings are part of life. We have to face
our endings in order to have new beginnings. This natural cycle
gets interrupted and we become stuck when we refuse to face the
endings in our life. We stay stuck in the past, as if we are
stuck in a time warp, unable to enjoy the present or plan for
the future. We can take courage from the natural and necessary
rhythms of endings and beginnings. What would it take for you
to let go and get into the flow?
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