Why Hope is So Hard
Christian World View,  Grief and Loss,  Learning in Grief,  Stories Matter,  What Influences Grief

Learning to Hope Again When Grief Reopens Old Wounds

This summer, I’ve been working through a Bible study with a friend: Hope For The Hurting Heart, by Linda Dillow. It’s a gentle, faith-based companion for those walking through grief. With honesty shaped by deep loss, Dillow offers more than advice—she offers presence. Her “Heart Skills” are not spiritual checklists. They’re anchors for when sorrow threatens to pull you under.

We haven’t made it far in the book yet, but one chapter—on Hope—stopped me in my tracks. Honestly, it would’ve been worth the entire book just for that one lesson.

Because if I’m being honest…

The search for hope may be my greatest struggle in life.

Especially during times of grief.

After suffering for years with depression, I had finally gotten to a place where I could enjoy life again. But the first time something went wrong, I found myself right back in a familiar place: hopeless.

I’ve asked myself a hundred times: Why do I do that? Why does one new loss bring back every old one? Why does grief feel like time travel to my darkest moments?

The Science Behind It: I’m Doing It Again

There’s actually a reason—and it’s not just “me being dramatic.”

🧠 Depression rewires the brain.
It leaves lasting grooves—default pathways of hopelessness and despair. This is part of what’s known as neuroplasticity. If you’ve lived in survival mode long enough, your brain learns to return there quickly when triggered.

🧠 Emotional memory is powerful.
Even if your current grief isn’t tied to past depression, your body remembers what despair feels like. And when it recognizes those same emotions, it reacts—fast.

🧠 Grief is a potent trigger.
It shakes your sense of safety and meaning. For someone with a history of depression, even small losses can reactivate older emotional wounds.

🧠 The “kindling effect” means that once you’ve experienced major depression, it may take less to trigger it again. That doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means your emotional system is sensitive—and it needs extra care.

So What Helps?

One of the most powerful skills she shares is the practice of writing a Declaration of Hope—a statement that reminds you where to place your trust, even when you feel numb, overwhelmed, or unsure.

But more on that next time.

For today, I just wanted to say this: If you find yourself back in the same dark place after grief hits, you’re not going backward. You’re re-entering a wound that still needs care. And care is not failure.

Next week, I’ll share what a Declaration of Hope is and how writing one actually helped rewire my response to my own hopelessness. You don’t have to stay stuck in the spiral.

Reflection Prompt

  • When have you felt like hope disappeared overnight?
  • Can you name what triggered it—or how your body reacted?

You’re not alone. If you desire to connect with others who are finding hope in the midst of grief, join us. In the North Dallas/Collin County area, we offer a ten-week workshop called Rebuild: Finding Hope After Loss. New groups begin September 8th. Many areas also offer GriefShare, an international, faith-based organization with a structured thirteen-week program—available both in-person and online—to help individuals navigate grief after the loss of a loved one.

Julie Thomas has a degree in secondary education from Baylor University. She taught and coached for nine years at the secondary level before serving 30 years for Real Options, a pregnancy clinic in Allen, Texas. Her passion is equipping volunteers to talk with women dealing with an unplanned pregnancies. Julie has been married to Marcus for 30+ years, and they have four children: Rachael, Robin, Sara, and Bryan. In 2017, Julie’s life changed forever when she lost her 16-year-old son. Learning to deal with loss in Julie’s life led her to begin a grief ministry, become a certificate in Mental Health Coaching with an understanding of Grief and Loss. REBUILD, Finding Hope After Loss was written by Willow Creek Church in Chicago.