Hope and Cynicism in Politics and Fibro (and Sports for Good Measure)

Relax. I think I'm almost done with my mild foray into the world of political blogging. And the rants about work? No more of those. At least for a while. 'Cause the potential for a work rant? Right there under the surface. Always.

I said in my last post that I was done with hope and gloating. I haven't gloated for two whole days. Really. But that darn hope. It keeps creeping up on me.

Hope is a pernicious thing. It slinks in and makes me think about how things could be. Hope isn't about hard work, choice and compromise. Hope is about seeing my world, your world, our world as a better place where the impractical, the improbable can be. Hope is that tiny, burning flame in the heart. Hope is a country where any child can grow up to be President. Hope stirs in late August when the Detroit Lions fan imagines a winning season. Hope is me doing work that has an impact, that is interesting, thought-provoking, fun.

When hope crashes, cynicism storms in.

I finished my first full, 40-plus hour work week in over four years on Friday. I had flashbacks to my life four years ago - go to work, go home, go to bed at 8 p.m., do it again the next day. I was afraid that I knew what would happen and it did. On Saturday night I was insanely tired - drunk, drugged-up, stumbling into furniture tired without a drink or drugs to explain it away, to make it normal, to give it a rational explanation. Cynicism roared, happy to be proven right once again. I can't do this. What was I thinking? I almost wanted to cry. It would have taken too much energy.

Wait though. There is another player on this team inside me. Pragmatism.

It is still early days in my treatment. It's too soon to judge it a success or a failure. It's too soon to imagine that I can work full time without feeling the physical effects. Pragmatism reminds me that I don't want to spend my work life filing or putting together open enrollment packages. This adjustment to my current gig is temporary. It's a way to make some additional money. It's not my life. Or the end of my life.

Governing the country will be harder than winning an election. The Lions may not win this season. Fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue may never have a cure.

I may not know how to balance the demands of illness, work and a fulfilled life but I still have hope that I can learn. I'll keep that tiny flame burning. I'll listen to cynicism and its fear of all that could go wrong. I'll let pragmatism balance the two and run the show for a while.