I eyed each pumpkin in the patch trying to determine which
ones would perfectly stack on each other to make that pristine gourd
tower. You know – the one on every
southern home porch that shouts “It’s fall, y’all.” Even though that phrase
makes me cringe for a variety of reasons, I somehow still “fall” into the expectation that my home in Tennessee
should follow suit and don this autumn awesomeness. Eventually they started growing some kind of
fungus on them, the top pumpkin fell off and broke its stem, and one of my kids
just snuck in a blue one he painted in the mix.
Not what I expected. But somehow
it’s more honest and representative of me now.
And it made me laugh at how “perfectly” it goes along with what I had
just been writing on a recent trip to NYC.
We grow up with a list of expectations. There are developmental stages we are
expected to meet – first steps, first word, first day of school. There are expectations about being a spouse
and parent – stay present, keep dating, show up to soccer games. There are unspoken expectations about being
male or female – wear this/not that, stay strong/stay silent, do this type of
job. There are the unrealistic
expectations we place on ourselves and others.
And what happens when we miss these marks? At almost 39, I’m learning the important difference
between expectations and dreams. Dreams
bring hope and can guide us to our heart’s deepest desires. Even if they don’t “come true,” they leave
room for more exploration and creativity. But expectations, when not met,
foster resentment and rob us of our truest selves. I have been living most of my
life with a list of unmet expectations. And
it’s exhausting.
I was going to be a famous singer. I was going to get married and have a baby or
2 or 3. Instead, I am a therapist. I am married with 3 adopted boys. And even those roles are riddled with
expectations. For example, because I am
a therapist, I’m “expected” to be a good wife and a good mom because I have a
degree that says I know about relationships.
I am sitting here in a courtyard hotel in New York City grieving all the
ways I have missed those marks. I even
have an expectation of myself right now that I should be out walking around
the city taking in all the sights.
Internal dialogue is “Why are you sitting here writing? You can do this
at home. You don’t have the Statue of Liberty at home!” And this is the internal dialogue that keeps
me trapped. I start obeying it, and I
move away from my heart and soul that is whispering softly what it really
wants. But today I did not. I sit here
wrapped up in my new cozy scarf doing what I NEED to do to honor a voice inside
me that gets muted too often. Life is too short and too hard to keep operating
in the expectations. I want the dreams.
I want to sit right here and write. It
takes courage to move toward dreams and away from the expectations.
As both a child and adult, I like resolving conflict. I became a therapist, because I love the role
of helping people find emotional health.
Early in my career I had an expectation this would also mean a
guaranteed life of health and happiness because I would have all the “how to’s”
as a spouse and parent. No way I can
mess this up if I’ve got the rule books. I’ve grown to love this “Performer Part”
of me that so innocently studies and achieves.
She is determined and beautiful.
Her heart craves balance, love, connection, and validation. Yet where
she was sadly unaware is that this could not be all up to her. No amount of reading, no diploma or license,
no LMFT credentials behind her name on a website or office door could keep her
from the pain of living. And when things
started going completely awry, she mistakenly believed she had failed. This part of me took on the shame of where my
life had landed – that somewhere I didn’t “cross the t or dot the i” and now
it’s all my fault. Then the shame spiral
spins out of control:
Who will come see ME for therapy?
What if I had only done a, b, c…?
What will people think of me?
How did I mess this up?
How can I make life “right” again?
All these shame thoughts come because my lovely ambitious
Performer Part thinks she failed. She
had expectations to meet, and she didn’t.
She thinks all those expectations were squarely and primarily on HER
shoulders.
You know how a football player gets injured and can’t play
anymore, or a writer breaks her wrist and can’t type, or a singer loses her
voice? Do you think those people failed? Author Jen Hatmaker spoke straight to my
Performer Part in her most recent book “Of Mess and Moxie.” She writes: “The main thing is attacked, and no amount of
devotion could stop it. It is a watershed moment when we start bargaining with
God. Anything but this, Lord. I did
everything right! I invested wholeheartedly. I sacrificed greatly. I nurtured
this specifically. I need this particularly. I love this especially. How could
this go down despite my dedication?...The problem is life.”
We can know everything there is to know about our field or
given profession. We can study it, do it, and nail it. And life still freaking happens to us. So today I am telling my Performer Part what
a brave and beautiful woman she is. I want her to know how hard she has worked
and what good things have come from her determined and well-intentioned
efforts. She read all the books, got the 4.0, won competitions, ran the
marathons, kayaked 12 miles alone, got her Master’s degree, worked tirelessly
to bring her 3 kids home from Haiti, walked through painful events with her clients,
and now she is courageously fighting for the hurt parts of herself. And today she must know – there are no more
expectations of her except to honestly show up with her heart. I want her to
lift all that shit off her shoulders. You did a good job. Don’t do this by yourself anymore. It was never all up to you, and it still
isn’t. You do your part, and let others do theirs. You can’t be held
responsible for the choices of others or the storms of life. Serenity prayer yourself through this.
As I move from expectations to dreams, an important shift
happens. I remember I have help. Expectations
say it’s all up to me and that any mistakes or hardships mean I’ve failed.
Dreaming means I have good ideas and gifts to offer the world, and I can do my
part to be the person I want to be. I can trust the pain of life will be used
to keep growing me. I have a compassionate Jesus who strengthens me. I used to
believe He was up there waving a wand and making good things happen for people
who were doing all the “right” things.
But now more than ever I realize we were never promised easy, good,
happy, perfect lives free from pain - no matter the level of performance. But we were absolutely promised He would
love and comfort us in it. From this perspective, here’s how that shame spiral mentioned above levels back out:
People will want to see ME for therapy because I am an
imperfect person who gets life with them. I have done (and still doing) my healing work too. I have some great tools and
resources to share, and yet my compassionate
heart outweighs the books I’ve read and skills I’ve learned.
I could have done a, b, or c….and other life things could’ve
still happened. There is actually freedom in knowing I am ultimately not in control, yet always loved through it.
Some people will still absolutely question or judge me.
That’s just life. But there will also be
people who think I’m brave and are thankful I’ve walked in their shoes and can
sit in the pain with them.
I didn’t mess this up.
Another of my favorite authors, Glennon Doyle, says “I am a feeling
person in a messy world.”
There’s no making life “right” again. Because it never
was. I just keep dreaming and
rearranging the pumpkins.
~What expectations did you have of yourself or something in
your life that did not get met?
~Can you grieve those losses and accept human imperfection and
the hardship of life?
~Are you carrying a burden of responsibility that isn’t
really yours? How can you release it?
~How can these “failed” expectations be turned into dreams
now?
~ What rearranging needs to be done in order to be who you
truly want to be?
