Tag Archives: letting go

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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Zero to hero: Escaping my fear

The cacophony of items streaming through my mind when I started my blog were very bipolar. The greatest item was the desperate need to overcome my fear of failing as a writer. I have always been a writer, despite being dyslexic words have always taken me beyond the mundane ways of life. I have always hidden my words because like many others I am damaged goods. My over riding sense of unworthiness amongst the mass of voices already out there and the ones clamoring to be heard have always informed me how insignificant I am. Therefore I have rarely shared any of what I write. I have a novel that I started thirteen years ago. I stopped working on it about five years ago because of my devastating inner monologue. The words have never ceased to flow from my mind to the laptop. It is just that my fear is so certain they have little value compared to the ones that are already there. This is the hope upon which I have dwindled into a 42 year old hack.

My husband and I bought ourselves a motorcycle for our 21st anniversary last October. That one tiny choice led to my reinvigoration. I had never been on a bike before. Truthfully, I was terrified of being so vulnerable to pain but my husband was a gentle tutor. He schooled me on letting go of my tension and fear. The more we rode the further we traveled. The roar of the motor combined with the intensity of the wind brought my mind to a singular focus. I am a writer. The ride clarified my thoughts. The inspiration of all that surrounded me seemed to quiet my insecurity and erase my previous failures.

I have been constricted by the alleged rules of society all of my life only to discover that the only rules are the ones I create. I am trying to hone in on making my existence one of true liberation. I seek to liberate myself from doubt, self hatred, self destruction. I have been a slave to those for way too long. They have worn me down to a tired self loathing lump of physical and emotional pain that was moved or stilled by the whims of the powers greater than me. I never wanted to live a life dependent on the kindness of others but there I was moaning about how miserable I was due to the injustices and misdeeds of the world around me. My life had become a passive one and passivity was a brutal master.

I wanted to rage against my fate and our anniversary gift was revealing the universal secrets of rebelling and living outside the boundaries. The bike was an ethereal key to unlocking the shackles of my fear and setting me on a path of actively living true to the soul within me. My blog is my coming out into the light of liberty, a step on the path of actively living true to the writer in me. The truth that drives me to create my blog is to quiet my fear and prove that my insights are of value in this world. Even if only to myself, my words are worthy and if by some miracle I am a gifted writer then my emancipation will be completed.

 

Fear derides me

Panic hides me

Berating soul

Dividing whole

Imprisoning self

Depriving health

Imploring hate

Eroding fate

Building the cell

That emulates hell

Promoting silence

Inviting violence

Stealing my way

From the bright ray

Terror my chains

Pain my stocks

Fear reigns

This battered box