On expectations

I’ve been a wreck. Fucking Brave took a back seat. I’m working on writing more. You should write too should you feel like it. It might make you feel better (see submit your story). 

Expectations seem to fuck me up at every turn. 

You see I learned this rad thing called non-violent communication a few years back. I found that if I followed the guideline of making an observation, stating my feelings, stating my needs, then making a request that I would generally wind up where I wanted to be. 

Except when I didn’t. And boy howdy if I have done everything right and my expectations weren’t met I. was. a. wreck. 

I have been on this analysis of how my expectations fuck me up since the day I paddled a partially frozen Big Lake overlooked by a snow-capped Mount Washington. I mean the picture is on point. How could anything about this day be anything less than perfect?

Literally everything was wrong. 

I was traveling to Bend from Eugene (a nearly three hour drive) for a work meeting and taking Michaela with me for the first time. We were newly head over heels for each other. I have so many things to say about the early days of twitterpation in our relationship (something I have talked to almost no one about and may share with you someday) but suffice it to say it was terrifying and exhilarating and just…. whoa.  I told her, with words in plain English, that I wanted to paddle. She had a plan. I trusted her. Then we were blocked by a mound of snow. Or so I thought. There was dry pavement on the other side so she dug out part of the pile impeding our path and drove over the rest. As we drove down the road we encountered even more snow, now covering the entire road. Undeterred she dug out the ruts and drove as far as she could. When we could get no further the woman proceeded to drag the paddleboards through the snow to the shore of the partially frozen lake. Epic. 

Except now I had 15 minutes before we needed to trek out of the snow, to the car, and to Bend before my meeting. I. Was. Disappointed. We hashed over the day’s events over and over as we drove to Bend. She seemed frustrated that she had accomplished my mission and scored me an epic photo, while I was sad the paddle wasn’t what I had envisioned. It was shit all around. For both of us. But what I came to realize is that if I had been able to hold the day more lightly, with less of a vision of the outcome, that it could have been a really cool experience and a rad story instead of a disappointment. 

I’ve gotten better at noticing when my expectations are getting in my way. I think I have even gotten faster at shifting them and I know I am developing the skills to verbalize that I am working on changing my expectations and that’s why I am in a foul mood. 

And now here I sit with the mother of all shifted expectations. The last ten weeks have looked nothing like I anticipated. I missed out on traveling around Australia because we were waiting to do it in April once Michaela was done with work. I am supposed to be moving to Hawaii next Tuesday. I was supposed to spend a week in Bali in April. I am most certainly not supposed to be living in Eugene. I am over the pandemic (as I am sure you all are as well) and would really just love to know where I will be living in July. I need the beach and kiting and the ability to spend time with friends and to send Link to summer camp.

Those skills to notice the expectations surfacing are being put through their paces each and every day. There are so many tears right now about the loss of what we were supposed to have and where we are supposed to be. But this week there has been a new constant- a greater ability to be present. I mean… what else is there to do right now but to sit and notice? 

So I sobbed on my therapist yesterday. The whole hour of teletherapy I probably talked for less than 20 minutes. Most of it was absolute bawling. She told me she could see I was having a bad day and that she was so sorry about that. Between tears, I corrected her that in fact, I was not having a bad day. The day just had bad parts. It was a good day. When I woke up (because Michaela’s ungodly early alarm went off)  the first feeling I had was gratitude that the girl has work. When Link yelled at me about his writing school work I sat in patience and love understanding that none of this is easy for him. When I struggled to focus on work, I again found gratitude that there is work at all to be had right now.   

Being a person on this planet is hard work for me on the best of days. I am grateful and humbled that the repetitive requirement to release expectations or be miserable is teaching me that releasing gives me the ease I desperately need. I have never had control and never will have control and the sooner I notice I am grasping for it and can set it down the more I am going to enjoy the view from my paddleboard on a partially frozen lake.