“Beginnings are scary, endings are usually sad, but it's the middle that counts the most. You need to remember that when you find yourself at the beginning. Just give hope a chance to float up.”
—Birdee Pruit, from the 1998 film, Hope Floats
I stopped watching TV and going to movies with sporadic exceptions in 2013 when I started nursing school. I wanted to devote my energy to study, and in doing so fell out of the habit of moving pictures. Life itself feels like a movie often enough to keep me entertained and on the edge of my seat. Some things still stick with me though from my love of cinema—movie quotes mainly. I think of that one from Hope Floats around the end of one year or beginning of the next nearly every year.
Every year in January we reset to start over again. Some folks make resolutions to set them on track. This year, though, it feels like they carry extra weight. My end of the year is always fraught with a mash-up of trying to remain positive and coping with the grief of holiday loss. The beginning of 2025 feels a bit overwhelming for me. There is no need to get political or divisive, but the fact is there are a lot of scary things facing us in 2025.
I can share that I feel concern for friends who are scared for their very existence and identity. I worry for them, their safety and their mental health. As a nurse working in HIV and (more to the point) as a woman living with HIV, I worry about an already broken healthcare system and if we will see an end to the Affordable Care Act (“Obamacare”) and therefore, an end to not only affordable healthcare, but a return to denials because of pre-existing conditions. I also know without doubt this would widen the gap in health disparities and equitability. So many things to think about. Funding for HIV both in the U.S. and abroad, the fate of community-based organizations and AIDS service organizations, the list goes on.
Hope is something you can work toward while prayers involve a higher power leaning in to help you.
It’s necessary for me, my sanity and my well-being to focus on what the middle might be. To give hope a chance to float up. Hope is hard for many people. There are so many actions and emotions tied up in such a short four-letter word. Hope has an element of dreaming in it. There is anticipation in hope. There is the desire for change and the need to plan for it to happen, in addition to trust. To hope means waiting—but acting while waiting, as if the thing you hope for is coming to pass so you are prepared. Hope is also trying to let go of the “what-ifs.” Do you just hope for the thing and trust that it will be? Or should you plan for the outcome with the hope it comes out alright? Hopes are different from wishes and prayers. I think hope implies a more practical outlook and application than wishes or prayers, which often are for the impossible or unlikely. Hope is something you can work toward while prayers involve a higher power leaning in to help you.
I’ve shared before that I think laughter is hope. I will never not believe that. I also think there are pragmatic ways to employ hope in life so that you keep trust in hope and in yourself. In 2025, I hope you have just enough of the things you want and need. I hope you have just enough success to keep pushing for more. I hope you make just enough money to pay your bills and have a little extra for those shoes or that hobby you love. I hope you feel just enough support from those around you to let go of “what-if” and revel in the “let’s do it.” I hope you have just enough love and light to remind you that you are blessed and worthy. I hope that just enough hope floats up for your new beginning.
Be well. You matter.
Bridgette Picou, LVN, ACLPN, is a licensed vocational and certified AIDS Care Nurse in Palm Springs, California. She works for The Well Project-HIV and Women as their stakeholder liaison. Bridgette is a director at large for ANAC (the Association of Nurses in AIDS Care), and a sitting member of the board of directors for HIV & Aging Research Project-Palm Springs (HARP-PS). Bridgette’s goal is to remind people that there are lives being lived behind a three- or four-letter acronym.