“Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche
When I think of hope I think of the myth of Pandora. She was sent to the Titan, Prometheus, as a punishment for man's theft of fire from the gods. How could a mere woman be a form of punishment? The gods blessed her with a box and told her to never open it. When she was created, an insatiable amount of curiosity was instilled in her. Her curiosity won out one day and she opened the box. She unleashed all the evils in the world. In a panic she closed the box, but left one item remaining inside. This object was hope.
Many days of late I feel the weight of the world on me and it seems every day there is a new roadblock preventing me from getting out of the rut I am in. Once a day I am tempted to throw my hands in the air and say, "I quit. I can't do this anymore." Then I remember that I am a cape wearing super mom and quitting is not an option. Every day I find a way to reopen my Pandora's box and see the hope that still resides inside. How easy it would be to quit and to say the hell with it all, but I then remember that I am not a quitter. I am a cape wearing special needs super mom. I did not survive years of mental and physical abuse to just roll over and die when things get hard. I am a fighter. I will continue to fight for me and mine until the last breath leaves my body.
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