Expectation

If there's one word that gets me into trouble, it would be expectation. At every crossroad in my life, every bump, bruise or free-fall, expectation has played an integral part. Expect to be a perfect mother, and you most certainly will not be. Expect a person to meet his or her obligation, and he or she won't. Expect your spouse to intuit your needs, and he can't.

Through trial and mostly error I have learned to have low expectations of people. This isn't to say that I have none. If someone makes me a promise, I always hope that he or she will follow through. When it comes to mothering, I attempt to have realistic expectations of my performance or at a minimum forgive myself when I fail.

Expectations of myself are the hardest to negotiate, and the ones most likely to render me helpless. I am a recovering perfectionist (because if I'm perfect then everything will work out, right?), and perfection and expectation go hand in hand. Each day I am faced with choice: expect something from myself and face disappointment when I don't come through or expect nothing and be happy with what I accomplish.

I'm sure this seems like a silly notion for some. Why not have expectation after all? Shouldn't we hold ourselves to certain standards? Well, yes, we should. Not having expectation, for me, isn't an excuse to be a complete loser, but it does free me from self recrimination.

Right now, expectation of family is burdening my brain. Months ago, I asked my eldest brother to accompany me on the drive to Michigan. While Matt can't drive (no license), he would make good company on the ride and would help with the girls. His assistance would also allow me to leave for Michigan before Craig's semester was over.

Matt and I talked about the trip dozens of times, and I felt he understood that he should let me know if this were any sort of imposition. Two weeks ago Matt stopped answering my phone calls. His silence gave me my answer. He won't be driving to Michigan. I will have to wait until Craig concludes his teaching obligations.

I complained about this interaction, or lack thereof, to my mom the other day.

"I just wish he would tell me that he can't come. I always knew this was a possibility. I'm not upset. I just wish he would return my call."

"He can't. He can't allow himself to disappoint anyone. Just because he's no longer drinking doesn't mean all of his behaviors have changed."

"I know, but I told him that I wouldn't be disappointed. I told him dozens of times that he should just be honest with me."

"In his mind he's still a disappointment, and he can't live with that."

I thought that I didn't have expectation in this particular situation, but it turns out I was wrong. I expected that Matt would be able to say no to me, and that expectation was wrong.

Craig's semester is over next Friday. We will leave for Michigan the next day. Before we leave, I will try to call Matt one more time. I will leave a message, "don't sweat this, we'll get together another time, call me when you want." I don't expect that he will call, but I know he will hear lots of expectation in my voice.