The Hope Trap

The Hope Trap

So... we didn't get raptured!

I laughed and joked about this whole rapture thing, until I had the thought "Now what are those people going to do? They wanted to believe this so bad...and now look." And instantly, I was humbled because I've been in this exact place more times than I care to count. It wasn't as big as God coming back, maybe embarrassingly so, for me it was the late-night phone calls that went unanswered, the promises that melted into thin air, the grand plans that never materialized. Each time, I'd feel that familiar pull—the desperate need to believe in something good, to find a story that didn't end with me alone and disappointed.

We've been indoctrinated since birth that our "happy" is on its way, to the point where we see the end before the beginning, before the process, and we claim it as ours. It's a strange kind of tunnel vision. You see the warning signs, but you tell yourself they're just minor flaws. You call them "quirks" or "growing pains" or "bad timing." You become a master of self-deception, a skilled storyteller building a beautiful narrative around a flimsy plot. A part of you knows it's not real, but the other, more powerful part, refuses to listen. Because if you listen, if you acknowledge those red flags, you have to let go of the hope. And sometimes, losing hope feels a thousand times worse than getting hurt.

The truth is, we don't just ignore the red flags—we actively convince ourselves that they don't matter. We tell ourselves that this person, this job, this dream is the exception to the rule. We invest so much of our emotional energy into this manufactured reality that when it inevitably falls apart, the devastation isn't just about the loss. It's about the shattering of our own self-created story.

The heartbreak that follows is more than just sadness; it's a deep, gut-wrenching grief for the person and the future you wanted so badly to be real. You're not just mourning a relationship or a job; you're mourning the possibility of a different life. You're grieving the loss of your faith, a painful reminder that sometimes, believing with all your heart just isn't enough.

For me, the hardest part is the shame that comes after. The "I should have known better." The "how could I have been so blind?" But the truth is, it's not about being blind. It’s about being human. We want so desperately to believe in a beautiful ending that we're willing to overlook a few ugly details along the way. We keep betting on the promise of something better because the alternative—a life without hope—feels far too empty to bear.

The good news is that we don't have to keep repeating this cycle. The key to moving forward is to understand that hope is not the same as denial. Hope can be a powerful engine for change, but it must be grounded in reality. The next time we find ourselves in a similar situation, we can try to be a little more honest with ourselves. Look at the facts as they are, not as you wish them to be. Listen to your gut. Acknowledge the red flags, and instead of ignoring them, ask yourself, "Is this truly what I want to invest in?"

Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is let go of the story we wanted to write and start writing a new one—a story that begins not with a desperate wish, but with a clear, unwavering look at the truth.