Hope in a Hopeless World

Mental Health Outreach

Author: Crystal

Hi, I'm Crystal. I am a wife to an amazing husband, a mom of two beautiful boys, and a social worker with a passion to help people. Among many other things, I also live with mental illness. Depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder, eating disorder, and vicarious trauma. Whoa - what a mouth full. These disorders have had a major impact on my life. It is my mission to share my experiences with others to prove that you are not alone in this battle.

Dear Younger Me

Communication, Pain & Purpose, PTSD /
Crystal / August 2, 2025

If any song lyrics ever hit close to home, it would definitely be these ones: “Dear younger me,Where do I start?If I could tell you everything that I have learned so farThen you could beOne step aheadOf all the painful memories still running through my head.”— MercyMe, “Dear Younger Me” When people hear about my personal marriage journey, they may initially feel pity. They might see a weak person—someone who didn’t have the strength to leave, to stand, to carry life alone. They may see someone easily manipulated, taken advantage of, and stuck in fear and misery. They may paint my husband as the villain of our story. After all, he did make epic mistakes that feel unforgivable: lies, betrayal, and a baby that isn’t biologically mine. But what if the story was told from a different perspective? What if the story begins with a young teen off to war, who returns home to marry his high school sweetheart? Then, the images of war haunt him day and night. That same young man and his wife have a baby, and life becomes busy. His needs get lost in the shuffle. The silence from his wife starts to feel like disinterest… like lack of love… like lack of support. From that lens, I could quickly become the villain of the story. My husband was never abusive—not physically, emotionally, or in any other form—but he was hurting. He was overwhelmed, unseen, and silently unraveling. The warning signs of trauma were there, but I missed them. Not because I didn’t care, but because I didn’t fully understand what I was seeing. I was in survival mode myself—busy, exhausted, trying to hold everything together—and somewhere along the way, we both stopped truly hearing each other. The truth? We both made mistakes. We both had unmet needs. We both carried pain we didn’t know how to name. But we also both chose to stay. We chose to learn. To grow. To fight—not against each other, but for each other. We learned that marriage isn’t 50/50. It’s 100/100. You show up fully for each other. Every day. And when—not if, but when—one of you stumbles, the other picks up the weight without resentment, without blame. Just with love and understanding. This isn’t a fairytale. It’s real, raw, and sometimes heartbreaking. But it’s ours. And I wouldn’t trade what we’ve built—the scars, the healing, the strength—for anything. To my younger self:You’ll be okay.You’ll walk through fire, but you’ll come out stronger.And love… real love… will meet you there. And it’s because we’ve walked through the fire that we choose to volunteer with Hope in a Hopeless World. We’ve lived through seasons of pain, silence, heartbreak, and redemption. We know what it’s like to feel lost, and we know how powerful it is to be seen, supported, and believed in. We can’t fix everything for everyone, but we can offer something real—authentic support that comes from lived experience. That’s what Hope in a Hopeless World is about: showing up, holding space, and reminding people they’re not alone. There’s always hope—even when it feels hopeless.And sometimes, the most broken pieces become the strongest ones.

When the Little Things Add Up

Anxiety, Parenting, Thankfulness, You are not alone /
Crystal / July 4, 2025

Lately, it feels like I’ve been in a season where one hard thing after another just keeps piling on. It’s not one big crisis—it’s a dozen small and medium ones that build up into a mountain of sorrow, stress, and exhaustion. Low paychecks. Bills stacking up. No insurance, which leads to medication delays. And those delays? They don’t just mess with my schedule—they come with real physical and emotional withdrawal symptoms. Then there are the long work hours, the ongoing stress of co-parenting and custody issues, and the pain of having lies spread about me. Sometimes it feels like I just can’t catch a break. But then… the little things start showing up.A free coffee reward at Starbucks.Someone dropping off my favorite cookies.A simple “thank you” or “I’m grateful for you” from someone I love.Belly laughs with my family early in the morning when no one’s trying too hard—just being together.An unexpected gift from a friend that feels generous in more ways than one.Feeling heard, understood, and accepted at a support group. They don’t fix everything. They don’t erase the weight I’m carrying. But they matter.These little moments remind me that not everything is going wrong. They offer small glimpses of hope, like tiny rungs on a ladder. And slowly, rung by rung, I can start to climb that mountain—maybe not to the top all at once, but far enough to catch my breath. Far enough to get a glimpse of the beauty and purpose that still exist, even in hard seasons. So if you’re feeling buried under the weight of the “little things” that have gone wrong, look for the little things that are going right. They might be just enough to help you keep going. What little moments have helped you keep going lately? Take a moment to journal about them—or share one with us in the comments or a message. You never know who might need the reminder that they’re not alone. 💙

Sitting with Pain

Anxiety, Depression, Hope, Pain & Purpose, You are not alone /
Crystal / June 9, 2025

“Why does it have to be me?!” my oldest child cried out, hunched over the toilet in pain. My heart ached with empathy. My immediate internal reaction was something like, “Well, this kind of thing happens to everyone eventually.” But I quickly caught myself—because when we’re in pain, those kinds of truths don’t always help. In the thick of discomfort, logic often falls flat. Pain doesn’t want reason—it wants relief, or at the very least, to be seen. And I realized: maybe the most helpful response is somewhere in between our gut reactions and our attempts to fix things. Maybe what we need is simple, compassionate presence. A gentle middle ground. So I sat beside him and said, “It’s painful… and it will pass.” No magic fix. No denying the reality of what he was feeling. Just a moment of shared humanness and hope. As I sat with him, I couldn’t help but think about how often this happens in life—not just with stomachaches, but with heartbreak, anxiety, grief, and all the other invisible pains we carry. How often do we, or the people we love, cry out in frustration or despair:“Why me?”“Why now?”“Why this?” And how often do we scramble to respond with advice, solutions, or silver linings?“Everything happens for a reason.”“At least it’s not worse.”“You’ll get through it.” These words usually come from a place of love, but they can land wrong—too soon, too sharp, too distant. When someone is in the depths of pain, what they need most isn’t a roadmap out. They need to know they’re not alone inside it. We don’t have to fix everything. We can meet others right where they are—with presence, not pressure. “This hurts.”“I see you.”“You’re not alone in this.”“It’s hard right now.” There’s quiet power in that kind of response. A power that heals in small, steady ways. It doesn’t change the pain, but it changes the experience of carrying it. Sometimes the most healing thing we can offer ourselves and others is our presence and a quiet reminder: This is hard… and it will pass.

When Fear Stares Back

Anxiety, PTSD /
Crystal / May 25, 2025

The sense that we weren’t alone gripped me anyway, humming in my chest like a warning bell. But we continued forward into the stillness of our dimly lit, secluded yard. Night walks like these had become a ritual — not always welcome, but necessary — thanks to aging bladders and unpredictable sleep cycles. The air was thick with silence, not peaceful, but eerie. Even the trees seemed to lean in, listening.   As she began circling her third potential bathroom spot, I felt a ripple of annoyance mixed with anxiety. Could she please just pick one already? Finally, she settled. Relief washed over me. Soon I’d be back under warm blankets, safe from whatever strange tension was crawling up my spine.   I glanced up from the dark grass — and froze.   Another set of eyes met mine. Deep black, oval-shaped, staring back from a light-brown, fur-covered face. A deer. Statuesque. Still.   We locked eyes, both unmoving. Neither of us expected the other. It had let us get so close — too close — without bolting. Why?   I became aware of the tightness in my shoulders, the tension in my jaw. I was holding my breath.   Meanwhile, my dog, nose to the ground, remained blissfully unaware, lost in the comforting routine of sniffing and sorting smells. I gently redirected her back toward the house, glancing once more over my shoulder. The deer hadn’t moved. It stood frozen, just like I had moments before.   But here’s what that moment reminded me: our senses are wise, but they are not always precise. They carry the echoes of our past — trauma, stress, loss, learned vigilance. They serve us by being alert, but if we don’t learn to meet them with curiosity instead of panic, they can also lead us astray.   Just like I didn’t bolt when I sensed something, just like the deer didn’t flee when it saw us — we both paused. We noticed. We waited. There was a silent agreement in that moment that movement wasn’t the answer — presence was. This is something I’ve been learning in my own mental health journey: to be aware of what I feel without letting it define the story. To trust my instincts, but not to let them run unchecked. To ask: What am I really afraid of? Is this fear asking for action — or attention?   Sometimes, like that deer, we need to pause in stillness. Sometimes, like my old dog, we just need to do what’s in front of us — smell the ground, go through our routine — and keep moving. And sometimes, like me on that cold night, we need to trust that we can feel afraid and still return to safety without running.   That night, nothing dramatic happened. But it stuck with me. Because it reminded me that fear doesn’t always mean danger. Sometimes, it just means be here now.   And that’s enough.

The Lilacs Are in Bloom

Hope /
Crystal / May 19, 2025

“The lilacs are in bloom!” I said as we pulled into the driveway. My husband rolled to a stop in front of the burst of purple blossoms. He smiled knowingly. From the back seat came a chorus of confusion:“Why did we stop?”“What’s going on?”And then, as realization set in, one of the boys said, “Oh… it’s mom’s flowers.” We paused there for just a few seconds, then continued down the long driveway and into the garage. As I walked from the garage to the house, I noticed how light and hopeful I suddenly felt—especially compared to earlier in the day. Lately, the days and weeks have felt heavy. Hard. Sluggish. This particular week had been full of worries and an overloaded schedule. The daily grind can feel like reliving the same day over and over, without getting anywhere. But the lilacs are in bloom. It’s a reminder that we are moving forward. The days are changing. We are going somewhere. Lilacs, for me, carry the weight of memory. They remind me of the generations that came before, and the ones still to come. We’re all connected. Each of us trudging through similar day-to-day struggles—and somehow, we keep going. Just like my lilac-loving grandma, who weathered her share of life’s storms, so will I. Sometimes, all it takes is to literally stop and smell the roses.Or in my case… the lilacs. Mental Wellness Reflection:It’s easy to get lost in the rhythm of responsibility—days blurring together under the weight of stress, caregiving, deadlines, or simply trying to stay afloat. But moments of pause, like noticing flowers in bloom, can ground us in the present and remind us of something essential: change is happening, even if we can’t always see it. This week, take a moment to look for your own “lilacs”—a sign of movement, of growth, of beauty quietly unfolding. These small pauses can reconnect us to ourselves and to the bigger picture. You’re not stuck. You’re becoming.

Hope in the Darkness

Hope, You are not alone /
Crystal / January 5, 2025

Complete darkness. My eyes search for light, any light to guide my path. I know the general direction back, so I turn to the left and step cautiously in the direction of the cabin. Rounding the corner I see the speckle of light. As I get closer the light becomes brighter, and the outline of the cabin is visible. Illuminated under the porch light, I see what I am searching for; Hope. In this case it is a metal sign with those 4 letters spelt out indicating that I am at the right cabin. As I walk into the Hope Cabin, I am welcomed by a sense of safety. The warmth of the fire greets me as I take my spot on the couch across from my friend in the rocking chair. We continue our conversation on the meaning of hope and how it relates to the HHW mission. We reflect on the support we offer and how many times the people we meet are often in a dark or low place. Isolation and loneliness are both a symptom and cause of mental illness. Instead of feeling discouraged during these encounters, we feel hopeful because we know there is a path to healing through connection. We enter the dark and hopeless places to help find and guide others to hope. As we enter a new year, we are purposefully planning opportunities for connection, including our support groups and hope connection events. We are here and we are willing to walk in the darkness. Together we can be the HOPE in a hopeless world.

2023 Refresh & Renew: A Spring Wellness Day

Events /
Crystal / May 22, 2023

Our 2023 Refresh & Renew, A Spring Wellness Day was a success! The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and it was the perfect 70 degree day. Mindfulness We started the day by practicing the difficult skill of mindfulness. Mindfulness is about awareness and acceptance of the present moment. Noticing the things around you and happening within you. It can include noticing physical sensations, thoughts, and feelings. Along with noticing, comes the acceptance or non-judgement of these items. For example, if I am feeling anxious. I might say to myself (or aloud) “I am noticing that I feel anxious right now.” I am not viewing this as good or bad and I am not trying to change it. Mindfulness is a practice that gets easier over time the more we use it in everyday activities. We had the opportunity to intentionally practice mindfulness while putting our own flower arrangements together with flowers from Old Silo Flower Farm. Tips for practicing mindfulness: Use your 5 senses to notice what you see, hear, smell, feel, and taste. Describe in detail your observations either to yourself, to someone else around you, or by writing it down. Guided Journaling Sometimes our own conscious or unconscious thoughts are getting in the way of true rest and renewal preventing us from moving forward. Participants were guided through journal prompts and invited to create a Self-Compassion Intention. The single word or phrase was painted on a rock as a solid reminder to take back to everyday life. Breathing Techniques At times we can unintentionally practice anxiety breathing when we breathe shallowly into our chest. At our wellness day we had breath taking views, but we still took the opportunities to breathe deep from our stomachs and practiced breathing techniques that help to calm the mind and body. Nature Meditation Amber with Sweet Spirit Yoga + Retreats shared one of her many gifts with us by guiding us through a nature experience that allowed us all to slow down and appreciate our surroundings. The benefits of nature are many and the dedicated time spent in nature without electronics, expectations, or responsibilities was refreshing. Sound Bath Sound baths have many benefits including reducing anxiety, lowering heart rate and blood pressure, boosting the immune system, lessening stress, and more. Jennie Ruth shared her gift of sounds with us in this beautiful outdoor setting. It was a wonderful way to close the day. THANK YOU to everyone that attended, donated, & contributed their time and talents! We are so grateful for you all!

Constantly Moving

ADHD/ADD, Parenting /
Crystal / September 3, 2021

“Your son is a disruption to the class. He is constantly moving and making noises.” The kindergarten teacher sounded exhausted. Even through the video call, I could tell that she was frustrated. The words were not at all a surprise.  I continued to listen to the kindergarten teacher go on about our six year old’s inability to follow rules, listen to direction, and be respectful of others. My heart ached for my son. I know underneath the hyper, constant moving body, is a sweet, caring, and empathetic boy.  It wasn’t the first time we have heard this reaction. Previous daycare teachers shared similar reports. In fact we at home have experienced the same situations. Constant moving, running in circles, inability to sit for longer than one minute, easily distracted.  I tried to be proactive and shared this information at the start of the school year with his Kindergarten teacher. Over the years I had also mentioned concerns to his pediatrician. I had spent countless hours reading articles and books and doing google searches on my son’s behavior and how to help him.  The interventions and suggestions just didn’t seem to make a difference. Everyone seemed quick to point out that my son was loud and distracting, but no one had any suggestions on how to help him.  He was seen as an inconvenience. Later that same day, I pulled up to the elementary school and waited in the line of cars to pick up my son. I spotted him slowly walking toward the car, shoulders hunched over. He looked defeated. I smiled and waved to him and he did a quick lift of his hand to wave back but he didn’t smile.  I watch in the rear view mirror as he climbs into the car, buckles up, and then the tears start rolling down his face.  I am not surprised, this has been common lately.  “Hey bud, it looks like you had another tough day,” I say softly.  “Yeah. No one at school likes me. They all think I am stupid.”  My heart ached as, I pulled the car over to a nearby parking lot. I held my child’s hand, and did my best to comfort him.  Something had to change. We could not keep sending our 6 year old to school for him to come home feeling like he is a burden and unworthy.  After several conversations with his teacher, family, other parents, and his pediatrician, it was determined that he met criteria for Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) diagnosis. While the diagnoses made sense, the controversy that comes with this label had my mind spinning. Thoughts about over-diagnosis, medication side effects, treatment options, experiences and opinions of others, all had me wondering what to do next.  My husband and I discussed all the options and spoke with our family, friends, and pediatrician. We carefully considered the pros and cons. Ultimately, we decided to try medication in combination with therapy. We noticed the immediate impact with his treatment. We saw improvement in his grades, his interest in the things around him, his relationship with others including his younger brother, and his appetite.  He could focus on reading, writing, eating, holding a conversation, and playing games. He was actually enjoying things around him, instead of running in circles and moving from one distraction to the next.  It was a great reminder that while there may be stigma, over-diagnosis, and other dialogues occurring, that should not stop us from advocating for and trying things that our bodies need.  ADHD medication for our child turned out to be life changing for him. Even he, at his young age, notices the difference in his body. He comments on feeling calm and in control.  Sometimes what is right for others is not what is right for you. Don’t let fear stop you from making the right choice for you and your family. Author:  Crystal  

Insight and Awareness

Anosognosia, Anxiety /
Crystal / April 12, 2021

The first hot day of the year was a few days ago. I stepped outside with my two boys and felt the warm sun on my face. It was lovely. As we continued to play outside, that pleasant feeling was eventually replaced with tightness in my chest, difficulty breathing, sweating, and sluggishness. Heat has always been hard for me. Without warning these physical symptoms that the warm weather brought, were joined by unwanted memories, worry, and fear. As I took a seat on the ground, I recognized this feeling as an anxiety attack. I continued to gaze over at my kids embracing this warm day and I used the skills that I have learned and developed over the years. I began taking some deep grounding breaths, noticing the sturdy ground beneath me, and reminding myself that I am safe and secure. The feelings of fear and anxiety pass quickly this time and I reflect on the physical changes that just occurred in my body. As I continue to learn about my own mental illness, I am realizing the importance of insight and education. Learning more about the how and why can have a significant impact on recovery and coping. Summer and hot weather can trigger those anxiety symptoms and build into an anxiety attack. Without insight, that feeling of impending danger may stick around longer. A new term for us at Hope in a Hopeless World is “Anosognosia” meaning experience of “‘lack of insight’ or ‘lack of awareness,’” (NAMI, 2021). We may all experience this symptom from time to time and the severity may vary depending on the person or illness. Taking some time to learn about our body, our reactions, and our illnesses, can be an important part of effective management. Consider these reflective questions: Where do I feel discomfort in my body? What is my body telling me? What are my next steps? For me, journaling, prayer, self-reflection, breathing exercises, yoga, medication, and therapy have been helpful in my journey. You are not alone in this! There is hope <3 Author: Crystal

Grief

Grief, Pain & Purpose /
Crystal / December 27, 2020

I will never forget the day of my grandma’s funeral. Hours before guests began to arrive, my family gathered in the small-town church that my grandparents attended. I stood near the front of the church with my cousins as my grandpa approached the small box of ashes that now represented the significant loss in our family. He placed both hands the box and his entire body gave into the heartbreak he was feeling. His body shook and loud sobs escaped from deep within. Even now, ten years later, I cannot stop the tears from falling as I reflect on this moment. I think my family would agree with me, that two years after my grandma passed away, my grandpa would die of broken heart. Grief and loss have powerful impacts on our mind and body. Often, I think there is shame associated with the emotions that surface during a time of grieving. Somehow, in today’s culture, we convince ourselves that we are weak if we grieve past the unspecified and unspoken time frame. Like there should be a cutoff date for when the pain and emotions should leave our body.  While it might benice if there was such thing as a date. A date for when grief stops. However, this is not how loss works. It is normal and ok to have waves of grief over significant loss in our lives. If wish I could take away the pain you may be feeling, but instead I offer you these three important reminders. Feeling your emotions is good. Repeat this to yourself over and over when that shame creeps in. Write it on your mirror, in your journal, or somewhere you will see it. Feeling your emotions is good. Overwhelming sadness, loneliness, anger, frustration, heartbreak, etc. will surface and these feelings have to go somewhere. Let those emotions out. Feeling your emotions is good. Sharing memories is therapeutic. Those everyday memories of the person you lost can be painful reminders at times. Find someone to talk to and share those memories. You might say something like: “It helps me when talk about ____ (name of person), can I share a memory that has been on my mind?” People generally want to help and this is an easy thing for someone to do. It will allow the other person to feel like they are helping and will allow you that connection you need. If you don’t have a person that you feel comfortable talking to, send your memory in an email to us at Hope in a Hopeless World! We would love to hear your memories of that loved one. New traditions can be helpful. Finding ways to incorporate that person into your everyday life or celebrations is a healthy way to honor them and allow you to feel connected to them. Each time I use my grandpa’s coca cola coffee mug, I whisper a quiet statement of gratitude for the person he was and the impact he has on my life. Grief and loss are one of the hardest parts about life. It can be debilitating, confusing, and unfair. I see you and I feel your pain. It is ok to grieve. You are not weak for feeling those emotions. Feeling your emotions is good. Author: Crystal