On The Hope That Kills You

One of my favourite shows has a line that I haven’t stopped thinking about since I first saw it a few years ago. It’s the hope that kills you. Now, Ted Lasso discussed with plenty of nuance and wit in that particular episode, but it’ll pop into my head every now and again, without any of the broader discussion. Devoid of context, it’s quite a pessimistic adage, but it’s spent a lot of time in my mind, and I wonder if I might have anything to add to the conversation.

I don’t. I tried probing for a deeper thought, but found none. It’s something of which I am routinely guilty – setting myself up to make a larger point with no faith in my ability to do so. But let’s see if I can try.

I think a large component of how I try to escape the negative connotations of the saying each time it replays in my head is to emphasise a point – I don’t hope, I falsely expect. That may not be as helpful as I think it is on the surface – it turns something inherently aspirational into a delusion. An expectation without any reasonable degree of expectation is simply me lying to myself. Hope, on the other hand, is so romantic. The possibility for disappointment is baked in and that somehow makes it even more romantic and perfectly imperfect. But, as the saying goes, it’s what can kill you.

The main reason I think I avoid hope, more or less, is to do with the capacity for disappointment. I am very much of the mindset that eliminating any pain or discomfort is ideal, even at the risk of, well, not risking anything. Hoping seems like too big a gamble. I think this speaks more to my emotional development than anything else, but I think it would – metaphorically – kill me. Not to mention my tendency toward melodrama. Anyway, I do think my ill capacity for hope has, at least in small part, served a legitimately useful purpose.

My extremely poor planning is only exacerbated by any delusions I place before me in my future. I have even less reason to prepare for an outcome, no matter how intrinsically likely, if I harbour an idea that something better will happen, something that will mean I don’t have to as much. Things, sadly, rarely work on a generous schedule and so it is within my interests to give myself as much time as possible to even begin to engineer a possible plan b.

Anyway, fear not. Usually, when I write about abstract concepts like this, it’s because there’s a direct parallel going on in my life. In this case, that’s still somewhat true, but nowhere near as bad as I may have come to let it sound throughout the piece. I have done a lot of overthinking, and I am extremely fortunate to be in the position where no matter what happens, I’ll land on my feet. I may let myself hope this time, though, as a small luxury.