Hope

– or why I’m writing this newsletter.

I was reminded of why I write this newsletter the other day. Whatever your trauma, whatever your struggle, I'm writing this to give you hope. If I can make it from the brink of suicide to where I am now, there must be hope for everybody out there. I used to hate when people said that. Mainly because I was feeling hopeless and stuck.

So, that's the task for today - believing that there is hope. I didn't do anything else when that seed of hope was planted a little over four years ago. I started thinking about the possibility of hope. The possibility of change. Not in a big way, just in a positive "what if" kind of way.

My brain did the rest. It was a slow process, and I did need encouragement along the way. It was nowhere near straight progress. I couldn't even see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel yet. I was pretty much still stuck way deep in that tunnel.

But now I had a flashlight with me and was trying to find my way. I was not walking on smooth surface, so I stubbed my toes and fell on several occasions. Walking back the wrong way until I realized things were getting darker again. I held on to that flashlight tightly though. I wasn't going to give up my little ray of hope.

The more I started talking about things (my life, my struggles etc) the more people I could feel walking with me or shining a light for me. Some of them were like lighthouses guiding me from afar – people I was yet to meet. It took me a good nine month to get even close to the end of the tunnel. And this was after decades of being stuck in there without a light. In there where it was safe. In there where I could hide.

And I tell you what, this is when it got really scary. This is when I would have backed out if it wasn't for certain friends. This was when I was the most worried that I couldn't do it. I was so close to the exit, and I was shaking like a leaf. I dropped my flashlight. Lucky I no longer needed it.

Very unexpectedly a group of new friends was waiting right there to greet me and welcomed me to my new life with open arms. I’ll tell you more about my journey after that in a bit.

For now I just want you to know that you’re not alone. That there is hope. There are people with flashlights. There are big old lighthouses – even in landlocked Switzerland.

We’re all in this together.

Hugs all around.