There Is Hope After…

I want everyone to know that there is hope.

I remember when I felt hopeless. When things felt like too much, and I felt like too little. I remember when my brother came to stay with me one night when I didn’t want to be alone, because I had lost hope. I remember when, all those years ago, there seemed like there would never be a break from my anguish, or a release of my traumas and terrors. I remember when, just recently, I fell back into my fears and anguish for a bit, and again it seemed like there would never be a way out.

I’m here to say, there is.

There is hope after anguish. There is hope after pain. There is hope after suffering.

There is hope after hitting a bottom. And another bottom. And another bottom.

There is hope after remembering things you wish you didn’t remember and facing things you don’t want to face. There is hope after having a week (or weeks) when you felt like you couldn’t get off the couch. Or you actually couldn’t get off the couch.

There is hope.

There are times when the false truths I learned as a child in a cult are so powerful, I feel like there’s no way out of them. Even though I’ve worked for years to reverse that learning, sometimes it seems like all there is. There are times when the legitimate fears from my childhood, from the dangers my parents exposed me to, rise up as if I’m still in danger. I am awash with terror and can, at times, even forget to breathe my way through to peace.

Even with that, I know I haven’t hit the deepest depths possible, or at least I think there are people who unfortunately have had to go even deeper into despair than I ever did. But I’m here to say there is hope after deep, dark depths, unexplained terrors, and false truths.

I find hope in the little joys of life. Sunshine. Smiles. Breezes. I find hope in others. Connecting. Reminiscing. Laughing. Dancing. I find hope in reminding myself of how I’ve climbed out before and of how so many people climb out of seemingly bottomless pits.

I don’t pretend to have all the answers. I certainly don’t believe I have anything and everything everyone else needs. I obviously don’t have experiences in all the pain and anguish, or even the deepest, darkest pain and anguish.

I just know that I’ve been graced with a way out of every bottom I’ve hit (or created) and every tragedy or challenge I’ve endured. I just know that humans have an incredible, undeniable ability to adapt and evolve and renew.

And that gives me hope. Endless, beautiful hope. That gives me hope that there’s hope after nearly all, if not all, of it.

So, if you need it right now, hang on until you can find hope.


Previously posted:

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About the Author | Lisa Kohn

Lisa Kohn is the author of a memoir, To the Moon and Back, due out September 18, 2018, that chronicles her childhood – growing up in the East Village of New York City in the 1970s and in the Unification Church (the Moonies). Lisa writes of her recovery from the emotional abuse and abandonment she faced, and her now life of hope as a thriving and happy mom, wife, and leadership consultant and coach. You can read more at her website,, where you can also download the first chapter of her book.

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