Two-Handed Approach

How to Hold Pain and Hope at the Same Time

Some days, all we feel is grief, exhaustion, or disappointment. I don't know about you, but I've been feeling that a lot lately. It seems like no one is immune. But then sometimes the light tries to break through, a whisper of hope you're not even sure you believe in.

And when that flicker of joy does break in, like when the dog makes a derpy face and I laugh without thinking, it almost feels like a betrayal. Like smiling might dishonor the weight of what I'm carrying.

We tend to think that we have to choose. Be okay, or not. Be hopeful, or hurting. Be strong, or be honest.

But that's not how healing works. That's not how people work. The truth is, we are meant to hold both.

Pain in one hand, hope in the other. Rage in one hand, tenderness in the other. Scribbles in one hand, clarity in the other.

This is the Two-Handed Approach. Not either/or, but both/and.

It's not about denying one thing to hold the other. It's about making space for both. About telling the truth of your grief without giving up on the possibility of joy. About allowing sorrow to sit beside wonder. It's crying in the morning and laughing after breakfast. It's saying "I'm not okay" while still getting out of bed.

This is how we make it through the dark times. Not by ignoring the pain, but by remembering the hope. By returning over and over to the things that are still true, even when they don't feel so.

Some days, the pain is so heavy we need both hands just to hold it up. That's okay too. That doesn't mean the hope is gone. It just means the hope is a little harder to see right now.

But like the sun that is still shining when the sky fills with clouds, our capacity to hope never goes away. It waits. Quietly. Until we're ready to part the clouds again.

Maybe that's what resilience is. Not pushing through or pretending we're fine. But remembering again and again that good still exists, that light still finds us, even here.

So if today you're feeling scribbly, tired, or overwhelmed, keep dreaming of your way forward. If your hands are full and your heart is frayed, keep showing up, even if you wobble.

Two hands. Both full. You're still whole.