Expecting. A word that means to wait, often with anticipation and wonder. To expect a child. To expect a lot from life. It should be a good thing, right? If we didn't expect much from others, we would endure maltreatment from our relationships. If we didn't expect a lot from ourselves, we could live in a stagnant sea of conformity and longing. If we didn't expect much from our children, they may never reach or even attempt to reach their potential. But how do you know when you have reached it anyway? It's so arbitrary. Do you reach it on your deathbed? When you see your bank account spilling over? When you win the race, the contest? When does one reach their potential? This is so confusing.
But if we didn't have expectations from life, we would slog away, day after day, like Sysyphus, rolling that boulder up the hill, only to watch it roll down. And do it again and again. Actually, this may sound familiar to a worker or a stay-at-home mom or anybody who has a routine. Punch in, Punch out. Take the toys out, put them away. But we have expectations. That is what makes us different from Sysyphus. We can look forward to something exciting in the future, big or small, and that makes rolling the boulder tolerable. Saving for that vacation and looking forward to it for months. Or looking forward to blowing bubbles and little toes on the grass (or on those hard days, looking forward to nap time!) . Expecting adds some zest to the mundane.
Even if it rains everyday on your vacation or if you get the runs from that suspicious taco stand, you will always have those days when you were back at your office, dreaming of this vacation (which made your workday go faster and happier.) Expectations can bring you double the joy. First, when you imagined the joy and then when you actually experienced it.
When I was a young kid, navigating the battlefield of 5th grade, I lived for the future, or rather, my (very detailed) expectation of the future. My expectation was to be a ridiculously successful divorce lawyer, well-traveled with a European husband, and ample-bossomed, a DD cup at least. These expectations helped me endure the mean girls and my insecurities. I knew the future would ROCK. It just had to.
And it did. It has. No, I am not a lawyer, haven't travelled much in the last decade (and I married a Mexican), and my bosom, well, that is just a sad state of affairs after nursing two babies. (My 10-year-old self would be most disappointed in this outcome!) Yet my life has turned out beautifully. Different and beautiful. Those expectations served a great purpose in the past.
But just like everything in life, too many expectations are a bad thing. When you expect too much from people, you will constantly be disappointed. When you expect to get everything you want (like my toddler), you become an entitled brat and should only be tolerated if you are under the age of 3, or 4 tops! And perhaps the most toxic of all is expecting too much from yourself. You will set the bar so high that you'll be toppling off into despair and depression. Unable to make yourself happy with your unrealistic expectations. You must be the perfect and patient mother, a loving partner, an engaging friend, a smart and sassy woman, a goofy mama, an explorer, a domestic pro, a great writer, a budding entrepreneur, a gourmet cook...etc, etc. The list goes on and on. But who can be all this and why? What is the point - Happiness? Accomplishment? What if we are already happy? Should we stop expecting? Who knows? I don't.
Perhaps that wise guy, Socrates, was onto something though. Maybe: "To be is to do." Just do. Don't over think it. Do what brings joy and gives joy. And change it up when there is no longer joy. Of course, this is an over-simplification of life. But maybe that is what I need. To simplify. To breathe and remember that it is quite simple after all. I make it (life) complicated. Maybe, I'm already good enough? And so are you.
