When Hope Hurts

But It's All You've Got

It hurts to lose. But it hurts even more to lose hope. And I think that loss is what many of us are feeling so intensely this week.

I know I’m not alone in feeling the pain of shattered hope. Prior to Black Tuesday, hope kept me afloat. While the polls worried (and frankly shocked) me, I chose to remain nauseously optimistic. Surely, I reasoned, when democracy and the rights of over 50% of the population is at stake, most people will vote with integrity.

Clearly, I was wrong. I’m Canadian, but I feel the pain of my American friends, family and neighbours who are afraid for their nation, their rights, even their lives.

Ever since that day, I’ve been trying to access hope again. And in the process, I’ve been thinking how strange it is that hope can hurt as much as it can be a lifeline.

When hope is all you’ve got, it’s even more painful to rely upon it.

I know, because ever since I’ve been sidelined from my old life, all I’ve had was hope. Hope for recovery. Hope for disability benefits. Hope for a new purpose.

Back in 2021, when I discovered the healing power of writing, my hope shifted to dreams of publishing. I knew it was a long shot, but intuition compelled me forward. Day after day, month after month, year after year, I worked away. The tears flowed as memories rose to the surface, as if by magic. I knew it was a transformative process. I could feel the release of emotions long buried. Also, the hope that my story might help someone else kept me going. I’d found my sense of purpose.

Once the first draft was complete, I bravely shared it with a few trusted people, hoping that they wouldn’t crush my fledgling dreams. Luckily, their responses gave me the courage to start finding my path towards publishing.

“Words can hardly describe the impressions I have after having read through the first part of your book. But I will try. It is exquisite, painful, heart-wrenching, and absolutely beautiful.” (SG)

“Cannot stop reading your book!  Decided almost immediately to just read through for my own interest and then read it again for feedback. I keep wanting to text you about your stories but then I’d just be texting you all the time.” (GI)

“Oh Beth your book is awesome. I’m halfway through and absolutely love it.  I know I’m not objective, but I feel confident you will find a publisher.  It is so moving and well written.  I can’t wait to read the rest.” (LM)

“WOW just WOW!  What a well written and heart felt book.  You put it all out there girlfriend!” (DR)

“That may be the single most important perspective on cult religion I have ever read. I’ve been breaking down trying to read parts of it aloud to my partner. I could not read any of chapter 24 out loud without my voice breaking and tears flowing. I don’t think you fully understand the power of your own story. I haven’t read a full book in years. I could not put yours down.” (PE)

These were the words that I needed to keep my hope of publishing alive through the next gruelling months. Since I had no money to spend, my only option was to explore the traditional publishing path. For weeks, I painstakingly researched agents and small presses. Then I prepared submissions and book proposals all tailored for the specific requirements stipulated. Every single submission was different, because that is what’s required. It was a thankless mission, and the only thing that propelled me forward was hope.

I kept this up for eight months before my hope ran out. By then, I had attended enough online workshops to learn that debut authors without a large social media platform could not expect a traditional publishing deal. I was in no shape to attempt to build a big online presence, so I decided to pivot.

I knew that I didn’t want to self publish because I needed a team of experts to help my book succeed. (People who successfully self publish hire their own experts, but they must become the brains behind the operation, and I wasn’t equal to that task.) So, I decided on hybrid publishing, which is essentially a middle path between self and traditional.

I also decided to invest the money we’d be getting from our successful class action lawsuit into my publishing project. What better way to spend it than by sharing our story with the world?

Next, I submitted my manuscript to several well-respected and highly selective hybrid presses, and they all offered me contracts. The challenge was to pick the right one for me. Long story short, I ended up choosing a Canadian press called Ingenium Books. They seemed like the perfect fit.

Ever since I signed with Ingenium, it’s been a blur of editing, zoom calls, work meetings and research. They have led me along the bewildering path towards publishing with enthusiasm and wisdom. Last summer, after I finished several months of editing, they tasked me with creating a detailed “Endorsement Wish List”. I was to research influencers, experts, authors or anyone in the world who might be best positioned to read and endorse my book.

As I filled out that daunting spreadsheet, I kept hearing the familiar words blast in my head “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!” A phrase that was drilled into me during my cult years. It was torment, trying to battle those demons. All I could do was cling to hope, trying to keep that spark alive.

A month ago, my publisher sent out all the endorsement requests to a host of important people. Many of them busy fighting on the front lines against cults, religious abuse and Christian nationalism. These people couldn’t be busier. Or more preoccupied. All I can do now is hope that some of them will be compelled by the universe to read my book. And then feel inspired to endorse it favourably.

Meanwhile, in preparation for the launch on February 19, 2025, I’ll keep drumming up the courage to record the audiobook, market on social media, pitch my book to podcasts, and start a launch team.

The rest I’ll leave up to the universe. After all this work, it will hurt bitterly if my book doesn’t find its readers. But if I hadn’t clung to hope all along, I wouldn’t have made it this far.

So here’s to hope!

May it be the lifeline we so badly need right now.