Though maybe the argument could be made that faith is faith is faith. I don’t know. I’m talking about faith in each other, though. Faith in someone else, not a Divine.
How many times must a person disappoint before you lose faith in them? How many times will you screw up before someone stops believing in you? Then again, maybe they never believed in you, and that’s okay. You don’t really need anyone’s validation, anyway. It’d just be nice to have, is all…
I have goals. Some of them are pretty ambitious. Attain a steady (paying!) career as a writer. In film, television, books, any of those. I’ve put in a lot of time and effort, and it’s the only thing I really care about anymore. I’ve made a lot of silly sacrifices in the pursuit of that. It’s clear this is no passing whim. But I come from a practical family, real meat and potatoes sort of people. My parents worked with their hands, worked hard jobs. My aunts and uncles did, too. Auto work, metal work, desk work, working with people and kids. Working in a concrete environment that produced tangible, evident results. I was the first in my family to… I guess, get starry-eyed. I think I wanted to be the President when I was younger. Then a doctor. My mom wanted me to be a lawyer. I can’t remember what my dad wanted me to be. A pro baseball player, I think. But I want to be a writer. I want to be a storyteller. It took so many years to figure that out. Years.
My family, I think, has finally come to accept that I won’t settle for anything else. I could work a 9-to-5. Hell, I do currently work a job like that. But it’s to pay the bills and keep me occupied when I’m not writing. There was a time, though… when my family didn’t know what to make of it. When my mother looked on in disbelief and… just a little bit of anxiety at the path I’d chosen. She believes in me, and I would say that she always has. I’ve been blessed that way, to always have her in my corner, even when she doesn’t totally understand what I’m doing or talking about. My dad. Well. He died long before I sorted things out for myself.
My friends, my classmates, other people, they haven’t always had faith. Oh, most knew that I wrote and I was good at it. (I edited a lot of papers for my buddies back in undergrad.) But few–if any–had faith I would get anywhere. I think with my classmates I did myself a real disservice, too, by not really investing much time in developing stronger ties with them. I was too… stuck inside my own head. I still am, in many ways, working things out in my head when maybe I should be paying more attention to the things and people around me.
I’ve let a lot of people down over the years. School was one very long, very expensive series of disappointments before I finally got my act together. Suffice to say, I even lost faith myself for a while. I despaired. I doubted. Faith was hard. I made it through, but faith is still hard. And I’m not sure who out there still believes in me.
Why is this important? I think… it’s very important to have hope.
It’s a key theme of my book. Hope can save. Hope can provide purpose. Hope can overcome the impossible. It’s a powerful thing, and it’s intricately tied to faith. I think the idea is quite similar.
I received some strong encouragement this past week. From my friend Liz. From my writer’s group. And yes, from my mom. It was all very well-timed. This past week has been especially difficult concerning my depression, and for a while my faith disappeared.
I’m not really sure where I stand on it all now. Do I have faith? Do I hope? Do I believe I’ll make it? I don’t know. But I won’t give up, that’s a certainty. Will anyone still be with me by the time I get there? I don’t know that, either. But I’m determined to get where I want to go, regardless of how difficult or impossible it may be.
I’m going to always pursue the goal. But things like hope and faith… they can definitely make the road a lot less lonely.