Hope and Doubt

 Between Hope and Doubt: How I See My Life

 

 Life, for me, has always been a complicated blend of hope and doubt. Some days, I see it in the brightest colors, believing in the endless possibilities the future holds. On other days, it feels like a tunnel with no light at the end, no direction, and no reason to keep walking. I have lived long enough to know that this constant back-and-forth between positivity and negativity is not unique to me — but it certainly feels deeply personal. My perception of life changes like the weather, and I often wonder which version of me is more accurate: the hopeful dreamer or the tired realist.

There are days when I am fully convinced that my life is going to be meaningful — that I am here for a reason, that there is something beautiful waiting for me at the end of all this confusion. I think about the things I want to do, the goals I still carry, and the dreams that haven’t died yet despite everything. On those days, I feel the urge to act, to make things better, to take control. I remind myself that if I really want to make life worth living, I must be the one to shape it. No one else will do it for me. That’s when I try to push forward with whatever strength I can gather. I make plans, I get inspired, and for a brief period, everything feels possible.

But this version of me doesn’t stay for long.

Sometimes, and maybe more often than I’d like to admit, I see life in a completely negative light. Everything feels delayed, uncertain, and out of place. Nothing seems to work according to plan. Most of the important things in my life have happened not through careful planning or effort, but at the very last minute, as if life enjoys keeping me anxious until the final second. Whether it’s an opportunity I was waiting for, or a result I was hoping would change everything — it always comes with a delay, just before I’m ready to give up. This pattern has made me both patient and impatient. I wait, because I’ve learned that things can still turn around. But I also lose hope quickly, because the waiting exhausts me emotionally.

That’s why I’ve become unsure about miracles. There was a time when I believed in them. I believed that something unexpected could happen and change my life overnight. Maybe a phone call, a message, a new opportunity — anything that would give me clarity and direction. But as time passed, I stopped depending on miracles. I started telling myself that if I want something, I need to work for it, not wish for it. The world is not a fairytale. And yet, occasionally, something does happen that feels like a miracle — something I didn’t expect, something I didn’t earn, but received anyway. That confuses me even more. I tell myself not to believe, but life keeps throwing in just enough surprises to make me wonder if maybe miracles do exist — just not the way I imagined them.

Living in this constant push and pull between belief and doubt is tiring. Some days, I want to escape it all. Other days, I feel thankful that I’m still standing despite it. I realize that my struggle isn’t just about external events — it’s about how I see myself. There are times I believe I can do something meaningful with my life, and times I feel like I’m wasting it. I compare myself to others, even though I know I shouldn’t. I feel like I’m late to everything — late to succeed, late to be happy, late to feel secure. But then again, who decides the right timing for anything? Isn’t everyone just figuring it out in their own messy way?

I guess what I’m trying to say is: I don’t have it all figured out. I am not always strong or optimistic. I don’t always believe that things will be okay. But I still show up every day. I still think about what I can do, even if I don’t always do it. I still care. I still dream, even when I’m tired of dreaming. And maybe that’s what makes life bearable — the fact that even when I’m negative, there’s still a small voice inside me that refuses to give up entirely.

Maybe life isn’t about being positive all the time. Maybe it’s about learning to live with both sides — the hopeful and the hopeless. Maybe it’s about trying, even when we don’t fully believe. I may not believe in miracles the way I used to, but I believe in showing up — in doing my part and trusting that something, eventually, will come of it. And if that’s not a miracle, I don’t know what is.

                                                                     Joice Joy