Category Archives: Expectations

Lowered Expectations, An Excellent Exception to Expecting

I have pleasantly discovered that by lowering my expectations I have opened the door to freer experience and less emotional bullshit. The world through expectations is one fraught with land mines. I’m too old and life is too short to dodge the slings and arrows of others, let alone the bombs I create for myself. That’s what expectation is. A bomb that you have constructed based on your own beliefs, feelings or needs. I know this all sounds like disenfranchisement and a completely cynical view of the world but I assure you it’s not.

Let’s explore some expectations and see how they really work.

  • I expected to be educated by the public school system

Buying this expectation cost me a large chunk of my self esteem.

I have also since learned that learning happens for everyone,

every day, every where, no matter what.

  • I expected my father to love me unconditionally.

This also cost me a huge chunk of my self esteem.

He couldn’t give what he didn’t have.

He has to live with his choices while I have found power in letting go.

  • I expected both my girls would attend college.

They are individuals with their own specific path.

I have no control over what makes them happy.

They are their own people.

  • I expected to be independtly wealthy.

Life happens.

There are things in life more valuable to me than money.

  • I expected to hate growing old.

As I get older my self esteem increases exponentially.

I am relishing the release of preconceived notions.

I enjoy taking advantage of my growing wisdom.

My gray hairs are a beautiful silvery gray.

There are many others that would just bore the socks off everyone. My point is that when you expect, it is a game of emotional roulette.

I have been on a journey of shattering expectations. Recently, my husband helped to goad me to break free from an expectation of women that has always bothered me, sitting to pee. When I was a girl, my mother’s friend was at our home with her son Brandon. Brandon and I were summarily dismissed to the backyard so the two friends could drink and gossip the day away. I heard him exclaim “I gotta piss!” I turned to witness him pissing on my mother’s roses. I was five at the time but it fascinated me. My husband knows that since that day I was always envious that men could pee standing up. Just another one of my weird quirks.

 

 

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We were watching an episode of Honey Boo Boo and the girls had wanted to do what I had always wanted to do. They attempted with a funnel. It did not go well but my husband started the conversation. “I bet if you stood up and put a little pressure behind it you could do it without a funnel.” Feeling inspired I stripped my pants off and ran out of the house to see what would happen. It was a success. I was excited by this and we talked about it more when we were in bed. He challenged me to give it a try in the house. I did and I haven’t sat down to pee since.

Letting go of expectations has led to some amazing discoveries for me. I suggest you try it, too. Just don’t expect anything and anything could happen.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/great-expectations/

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Illusionary Vinyl

Our connection was deeper than the grooves of the albums you shared with me. As my mother, you were often mean and contradictory but when it came to the music I was a trusted confidant. When you left all I wanted was to keep those small discs of vinyl that brought us together. I didn’t get them but that doesn’t erase what we shared when those magic pieces of vinyl spun on the turntable. It connected me to your joy, pain and the things in your life that you just didn’t know how to say. My earliest memories are of your music surrounding me and filling the room. There was so much wrong with us but when those shiny black discs made their way from the crisp, colorful paper covers everything was right. I miss that, now you’re gone. I still have the music. Styx was on TV last night and I was immediately taken back to sneaking your Grand Illusion album from the stereo stand and listening to it while waiting for you to come home from work. Praying that I would hear your car pull in the drive to be able to dispose of the evidence quickly enough. That was when I was a little girl. When I was older I have memories of attending concerts with you. Bob Dylan was our first. God, that sucked so bad. He was so drunk and that asshole in front of us attempting to school his jail bait date on the importance of Dylan’s music to the sixties counter culture movement and how much we laughed at how asinine that guy’s comments were. The Phil Collins concert that we scared the shit out of each other driving from KC to Wichita late at night passed that haunted cemetery. I haven’t been to a concert since you died. I don’t know why. I just haven’t. Maybe, it would hurt too much to experience it without you. Perhaps I have lost the interest in attending concerts as I’ve aged. After all, it’s just a grand illusion, to be here missing you, missing the music, missing that connection, mostly missing us. The bond we shared over our love for the feelings that could only be expressed through sound.