Unmet expectations are the worst

Not sure what I’m saying here but this particular topic has been on my mind quite a bit, for quite a while.

I wrestle a lot with how to communicate my expectations.

It starts with this insecurity about my perspective. More often than not, I don’t trust myself. Immediately after a thought, I think...that was wrong. That’s not right. You shouldn’t feel that way. It’s weird. Who will relate to that?

So to then, in turn, relay what I want from a particular situation or the most desired outcome I can conjure up brings another onslaught of concerns.

Am I expecting too much? Do I hold my thoughts about how things should go or should be done too tightly to myself, too high above others? Too low? Should I not expect that people would think this or that was as important as I do?

This is what thirty years of undiagnosed but laughably obvious anxiety looks like people.

Unmet expectations are the worst. It’s like having something you’ve never owned stolen from you but without the right to be properly angry toward the thief, so you’re just left with anger to direct toward who?

Yourself.

Well, if you’re me. You direct it at yourself.

Unmet expectations are just the worst.

Actually, I don’t know what is worse. Because after examining these questions I’ve typed, I realize I’m so much in my head, constantly analyzing, hear and rehearing, parsing things and tidbits about things I’m certain that others might not give a second thought, let alone a full first listen.

I am thinking, that rationally what the worst thing could be is not saying your expectations for fear that someone will judge you for having expectations in the first place.

Which sounds weird, but I guess sometimes I sort of compartmentalize a lot of qualities I dislike into this category of being an “out of touch, high maintenance ultra feminine girl.” Having “too high of expectations” sits in there, next to “only shops department stores” and “can’t change a flat tire.”

And there’s always that thing that can’t wait to whisper in the back of my head, “Well what did you expect Jenn? For good things to always happen to you?”

I guess that’s why I try to not have expectations. But I fail at that too because we all do, whether we like it or not. I expect that there will be a tomorrow. That I will see certain people. Things that have always appeared to me as inevitabilities I now routinely expect them to happen. So it’s not as though any one person can be without expectations.

I guess what I’m saying is that the same things I struggled with at 8, 18, and 28 I’m still struggling with at 30.

Confidence.

Ugh.

And my default mode is to have good expectations. Well I guess it’s conditional. I expect good things from those I love, and bad from those I don’t trust. I’m no optimist, but it’s been a very long time since I’ve felt hopeless. Realizing that must mean that I’m growing up or maybe I’m not as anxious as I was before. MAYBE I’M GETTING BETTER.

To people who have watched me live life for a long time, or maybe a short time, I apologize. If you want to clue me in to how this thing is supposed to go just chime in anytime, because with the exception of Jesus I’ve been mostly freehanding this whole life.