Hope for the Year Ahead
After another year of uncertainty and worry, many people are entering the holidays stretched thin. Here in Seattle, the anxiety around another round of tech layoffs is palpable. Even outside the tech world, so many clients, friends, and colleagues are carrying quiet fears about stability, belonging, and what the next year might bring.
In times like these, making a case for hope can feel almost naïve. And yet, this may be the exact moment when hope matters most.
Hope can be hard to muster when difficult things happen daily. At times, it may not seem to “fit” the gravity of our circumstances. Pessimism often feels wiser; more realistic, even protective. As Matt Ridley wrote in The Rational Optimist:
“If you say the world has been getting better you may get away with being called naive… If you say the world is going to get better, you are considered embarrassingly mad. If, on the other hand, you say catastrophe is imminent, you may expect a McArthur genius award.”
There’s a reason we gravitate toward the negative. Our brains are wired to scan for danger; pessimism can feel like a survival skill. Anticipating the worst sometimes seems like the safest option.
But what happens when pessimism becomes our default mode? What possibilities do we lose when we stop believing good things can happen?
Kelly G. Wilson, in Mindfulness for Two, writes about helping clients cultivate hope precisely because not believing in positive outcomes “sells them short.” Hope does carry the risk of disappointment, but the cost of limiting ourselves, of not reaching for anything better, is often far greater.
A question I often ask is this:
Would you rather be wrong for believing something good was possible, or right that it wasn’t?
Research supports the value of choosing hope. In a recent Psychology Today article, “How to Cultivate Hope,” Dan J. Tomasulo, Ph.D., describes hope as a measurable, protective factor. He writes:
“People high in hope have sustainably better physical and mental well-being. They also tend to live longer and happier lives.”
Crucially, hopeful people don’t deny reality, they simply focus on what they can control. Tomasulo outlines a few core practices:
Set and pursue meaningful goals. Talking about change is not the same as acting on it. Choose reasonable, achievable steps that create momentum and reinforce your sense of agency.
Seek out hopeful people. Surround yourself with those who take action because they believe tomorrow can be better. This isn’t about forced positivity; it’s about not getting stuck in cycles of cynicism.
Stay grounded in the present. Regret and anticipatory fear pull us away from what’s workable right now. Anchoring yourself in the present, what you can influence, builds stability. Often, even in the middle of heartbreak, there is still something good to notice.
Hope is not easy in a world with constant access to bad news. It is a discipline, a skill we practice, not a mood we wait for. But it’s worth the effort. Hope doesn’t guarantee we won’t face disappointment. It does, however, allow us to remain open to possibility, connection, and richer, more meaningful lives.
So as we enter a new year, one still filled with uncertainty, I want to offer a gentle reminder: Hope isn’t about ignoring what’s hard. It’s about refusing to let fear be the only story we tell ourselves.
And that, despite everything, is a story we can keep choosing together.
