Finding Hope in the Darkest Moments: How to Keep Going When It’s Hard

Hope feels impossible when you’re drowning in darkness, but it’s there—waiting for you to fight, rise, and take another step forward.

Hope is a hell of a thing.

It’s what keeps you going when every fiber of your being is screaming to give up. It’s the one thing that stands between you and the abyss when life decides to hit you with everything it’s got. And let’s be real—it will. Life is a savage, merciless force, and if you think it cares about your feelings, you’re wrong. It doesn’t give a damn if you’re tired, broken, or lost. It doesn’t care how much you’ve suffered. It just keeps moving forward, steamrolling over anything in its path.

But here’s the catch—you can move forward, too. You just need hope.

Not the sugar-coated, greeting-card version of hope. Not the “everything happens for a reason” nonsense people spit out when they don’t know what else to say. No, I’m talking about raw, unfiltered hope—the kind you claw out of the wreckage of your life with bloody hands and broken fingers. The kind that whispers, not today when everything else is telling you to quit. That’s the kind of hope that saves lives. That’s the kind of hope that saved mine.

I’ve been in the darkness. I’ve lived in it. I’ve drowned in it. Addiction had me by the throat, and I was too far gone to care. I lost myself. I burned bridges. I hurt people who loved me. I became the kind of person I swore I’d never be. And when the dust settled, the highs faded, and all that was left was the wreckage of everything I’d destroyed; I thought, this is it. This is where my story ends.

But it didn’t.

Because somewhere, buried under all the mistakes, all the pain, and self-loathing, there was a spark. A whisper. A chance. And that chance? That was hope.

Hope is not a guarantee. It’s a choice. It’s waking up and deciding; I don’t know how, but I’m going to keep going anyway. It’s standing back up after life has kicked you in the teeth and daring it to hit you again. It’s looking at the mess you’ve made and saying, this isn’t where I stop.

Most people think hope is about waiting for things to get better. That’s a lie. Hope isn’t passive. It’s not about sitting around and praying that life magically fixes itself. It’s about fighting. It’s about dragging yourself forward, even when you have nothing left in the tank. It’s about finding one damn reason—just one—to keep moving.

And if you’re reading this, I’ll give you one.

You are still here.

That’s it. That’s the reason. You’re still breathing, still standing, still capable of changing everything. The fact that you’re here, reading these words, means the darkness hasn’t won yet. And if it hasn’t won yet, it never has to.

I won’t lie to you—finding hope isn’t easy. Some days, it feels impossible. Some days, it feels like the world is laughing at your pain, like every step forward just drags you further back. I know that feeling. I’ve lived it. I’ve sat in rooms where the silence was deafening, where the weight of my past pressed down so hard I thought it would crush me. But you know what? I made it through. And if I can, so can you.

Here’s what I learned.

Hope starts small. You don’t need some grand, life-changing revelation. You just need a moment—a sliver of light in the dark. For me, it was a phone call from someone who refused to give up on me. It wasn’t anything dramatic. They didn’t have some profound speech or magical solution. They just showed up. And in that moment, I realized something: I wasn’t as alone as I thought I was.

And maybe you’re not either.

Maybe hope is in the friend who checks in on you, even when you push them away. Maybe it’s in the stranger who smiles at you when you least expect it. Maybe it’s in the fact that, despite everything, you woke up today. That’s not nothing. That’s proof that your story isn’t over.

But let’s be clear—hope alone won’t save you.

You have to do the work. You have to fight for it. You have to dig deep and pull yourself out, inch by inch, even when every part of you is screaming to stop. And yeah, it’s going to hurt. It’s going to take everything you’ve got. But here’s the thing—you have more in you than you think.

You are stronger than your pain. You are more than your past. And no matter how broken you feel or how lost you think you are, you are not beyond saving.

So what do you do now?

You start small. Find one thing—just one—to be grateful for. I don’t care if it’s the damn coffee in your cup or the fact that you saw a dog on your way to work. Find something. Hold onto it. Let it remind you that there is still good in the world.

Then, take action. It doesn’t have to be big. Make your bed. Go for a walk. Call a friend. Do something that moves you forward, even if it’s just an inch. Because progress, no matter how small, is still progress.

And above all else, don’t quit.

I don’t care how many times you’ve fallen. I don’t care how many mistakes you’ve made. I don’t care how hopeless it feels. Get back up. Keep fighting. Keep pushing. Because the moment you stop fighting is the moment the darkness wins.

And you? You were made for more than this. Hope is real. Hope is alive. Hope is in you. You just have to be willing to see it.

Stay disciplined. Stay resilient. Live with PRIDE.

Jim Lunsford

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