surviving the wreckage of expectations

on finding hope, not hype

He was shaking. His face was red and he was sweating. The boot and a few old scars were the only signs of the ‘accident’. It wasn’t an accident at all. It was his second try at driving his car into oncoming traffic.

Dude, if you want it over, you’ll need to get rid of the Toyota and find something more poorly built. Perhaps something Korean and without a seatbelt would be more effective.

He laughed and shot me a shocked look. You’re not serious are you?

God no. And neither are you. What the fuck are you doing? People care about you.

You care? You get paid to care.

Yeah I do. But they don’t pay me enough given the call I received last night. What the fuck are you thinkin’ Donnie?

I’m a fuck up. I’ve fucked it all up. Everything. My career sucks. My finances are in the toilet. I don’t have any education but high school - and they just gave me the certificate to get me out after my second ‘victory lap’. With these ‘attempts, I’ve fucked my body. I’m getting divorced for the third time and now, with my mental health in the toilet, the people closest to me are either angry or terrified that I might try to kill myself again.

Dude. They are terrified because they care about you so much. And the other stuff? They don’t care about that.

Sure they might. I don’t. I’m a mess. The stress is overwhelming. I just don’t see a place for me in the world anymore. I’m doing everything I can to do right by people but it’s never enough. I’m running from one thing to the next trying to take care of people trying to do the right thing. I keep trying and I keep failing. I’m fucking sick of it.

Donnie was a middle aged shipping and receiving professional. Life had begun to really bite him on the arse. He came to me after his first suicide attempt. While in my care he had two others. Thankfully, Donnie was shit at suiciding. He was also shit when it came to expectations.

Dude, you are kinda shitty. You’re kinda shitty at killing yourself. You’re also kinda shitty at letting yourself live. Your expectations for yourself are killing your experience of being alive.

Shaken stunned by my glib bluntness, Donnie was all ears. Here’s a cleaned up recap of how I worked help Donnie manage his expectations for himself.

Donnie’s first problem was what he saw as a lack of Career Success. Many people expect to excel in their careers, achieve promotions, earn a high salary, and gain recognition for their professional accomplishments. This wasn’t the case. In reality, Donnie was soon to blow up another job after five years.

That’s all I ever last. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why can’t I just get along with people?

People are difficult and so are you. You’re also not good navigating social bullshit. People always create a scapegoat. You’ve been great at taking that role. At the same time, your expectations to progress are killing you. Your career goals have led to chronic stress, burnout, and and have arsed up any sense of self-worth you might have. What if it was just a J.O.B.

Donnie sat there stunned.

Changing jobs all the time and screwing up my relationships? I’ve declared bankruptcy twice. I have child support payments going to two different women. I’m 58 years old. What the hell? I should be better off by now.

And Donnie wasn’t. Recently diagnosed with ADHD, Donnie wasn’t the reading type and still wasn’t clear on the impact that wild wiring had on his overall life satisfaction.

Dude, how you’re living is fairly typical for people with weird brains like us. One of the reasons you’ve screwed yourself is how much money you need. You’re working a job and two side hustles just to get by. You were working all the time. It fucked your relationship. What’s worse, you then get salty and spend money on bullshit you don’t need because you believe you’re entitled due to working all the time. It’s no wonder you’re burnt out.

One by one Donnie and I went through his expectations for himself.

One by one we looked at how these helped him along.

Then?

One by one, we discussed how his expectations were driving the bus.

I just feel like I have to.

No, I corrected him. You feel discomfort. Then you tell yourself a story where you believe that you have to do meet certain standards or reach certain targets.

Yesterday I wrote that expectations are typically passive and an act of waiting.

To help Donnie and I move forward from his suicidal soup, I needed to engage him in something more active. Together, we had to shift the focus from expectations to hope.

How do you differentiate between expectations and hopes?

What’s the difference between a hope and a desire?

How do hope and disappointment impact your heart?

How is that different from expectations and disappointment?

Who do you know who needs to lower their expectations?

Send them the limbo post here then tell them to keep reading.

Love the people who love you.

Begin with yourself.

Having an aware and alive relationship with your expectations is a non mastabatoury act of self love.

Put away the tissues and lotion and start loving yourself truly.