Carrying hope, even when we can’t feel it
The Map We Carry
There’s a kind of comfort in knowing that even when joy is absent, the path back to it exists.
We don’t always need to feel gratitude in order to be steadied by it. Sometimes it is enough to know that gratitude can be returned to — that it sits in our back pocket, folded and ready, waiting for when we are able to reach for it.
As I note in Life Savor: “Sometimes it’s enough to know that a perspective exists in our back pocket for it to help our long-term outlook on life.” When the present moment is unbearable, the knowledge that perspective still exists somewhere gives us strength to endure.
Honesty First
So we don’t have to force perspective (gratitude, for example) until we’re really ready. Far from it. If a loved one dies, the honest response is grief. To pretend gratitude in that moment is not only false, it is cruel. As John Green reminds us: “It hurts because it mattered.”
Raphael Cushnir gives us the guideline: “Emotions don’t need to be felt forever, or obsessively, but just long enough to have their say.” Grief must speak. Anger must speak. Only then can they make room for gratitude again.
Marcel Proust deepens the truth: “We are healed of a suffering only by experiencing it to the full.” If we skip that step, we never truly heal.
Why the Pocket Matters
The reason “back-pocket perspective” is powerful is that it gives us hope in the middle of despair. We may not be ready to smile. We may not be able to feel thankful. But we can remember: this will not be the only perspective I ever have.
That knowledge alone is often enough to keep us going. It’s like seeing a distant light when we’re lost at night — even before we reach it, it keeps us from collapsing.
Fresh Heartbreak
Imagine someone sitting in the rawness of fresh heartbreak. Gratitude feels impossible. The only real thing is the ache in their chest.
And yet, somewhere in the background of their mind, they remember: Gratitude exists. Wonder exists. Meaning exists. I can’t feel them now, but they’re there.
They don’t force it. They don’t fake it. But the knowledge itself makes the grief survivable. They know the map is still in their pocket.
The Danger of Forgetting
If we forget that perspective exists, pain can convince us it will last forever. This is despair’s greatest lie: that it is permanent.
The back-pocket reminder refutes that lie. Even if we’re not ready to walk the road, we know the road exists. That alone can save us from hopelessness.
The Gift of Return
And then, when the storm begins to subside, we can take the first steps back. Gratitude returns in tiny ways: a warm mug of coffee, a shaft of light through the blinds, a line from a song that hits home.
The return is rarely dramatic. It is usually small, ordinary. But it matters. Each step back confirms that life still offers beauty, even after devastation.
Sentiment and Meaning
At the heart of this is sentiment. It is our willingness to care — to feel pierced, moved, even shattered — that makes life meaningful. To numb ourselves would be to sabotage our very reason for living.
Even the dark feelings are part of this gift. Anger, grief, despair — they are proof of value. They reveal what mattered—and that something mattered. To erase them would be to erase love itself.
As the movie Heathers wryly put it: “If you were happy every day of your life, you wouldn’t be a human being, you’d be a game show host.” A human life includes the lows as well as the highs.
Practical Reflections
- Write it down. List the perspectives that help you most: gratitude, mortality awareness, wonder. Remind yourself that these are always available, even when not felt.
- Accept the interval. Give yourself permission to grieve without rushing to positivity. Let emotions have their say.
- Notice the small returns. Watch for the ordinary moments — a bird’s song, a kind word, a laugh — that mark the path back.
- Honor sentiment. Don’t treat emotion as weakness. Treat it as evidence of meaning.
Closing Thought
We don’t have to live in gratitude every moment for it to shape our lives. Sometimes it is enough to know it is there — in our back pocket, folded like a map.
In dark hours, that knowledge steadies us. In brighter hours, it guides us back to appreciation.
The gift of being alive is not that we will never despair. It is that despair does not have the final word. Gratitude, wonder, love, meaning — they remain, waiting for our return.
