The thing about expectations is that it is often times not met. That’s just the way life is. Things go wrong, people go wrong, and life just is a bitch.
I find that when I expect certain things from certain people who have repeatedly shown tendencies for letting me down, I end up hurting myself with disappointment and anger when things don’t go the way I expected them to.
This is where managing expectations come in. Sure, some people want to believe the best in everyone. They choose to have faith even when faced repeatedly with disappointment. But of course you already know I’m not like that. There’s only so much disappointment I can take before I combust. It’s happened before, and no doubt it will happen again.
The silly thing however, is that I can’t help but to have expectations. Then I’d be hit by disappointment. Once, twice, thrice… Until it reaches a point when I finally move beyond hurt and disappointment into the realm of… Numbness.
Yep, numbness. When people give me something to expect, I’d mentally and emotionally brace myself for the inevitable disappointment that will be coming. That way, when it finally comes, the bitter taste of disappointment would be easier to swallow because I’ve already expected its arrival. And instead of the steep dive, it’d instead be a gradual descent. Yes, I’d still hit the bottom, but now the impact is lessened.
That’s not the way I’d like to be. But that’s the way I prevent myself from receiving the full brunt of the trauma. It’s the same way your skin becomes thicker and more calloused the more you put it through. Ultimately, it’s to protect yourself from harm.
Sometimes I do wonder if it’s just me setting myself up for disappointment or if it’s just my luck meeting people who cannot help disappointing me. Or maybe it’s a sign that the two parties are just not meant to expect or fulfill each other’s expectations?
If A can only give 75% at most and B expects a minimum of 85% every time, would it be better if B would just move on and find another party who can at least give 85% consistently and let A find someone else who’d be perfectly fine with 75%? Or should B manage his expectations and lower it to 75% so that he won’t be disappointed with A?
I guess it boils down to how much B wants to make it work with A?
Then again, I guess you can flip it and ask if A should work on giving more than 75% in order to meet B’s expectations instead.
Would you then be able to see if it’s A or B who would be more willing to put in the effort to make it work?
Or maybe they should just both meet half way at 80%? Easier said than done.
Ah, I’m rambling and I don’t even know if this all makes sense at this point. Maybe when I come back to this in a couple of hours I’d be wondering what on earth I was rambling on about.
Today we interrupt the regular programming by bringing you a song. (What programming? There’s practically no programming whatsoever for the past few weeks wtf.)
Hahaha karma in action this glorious morning.
Some asshole motorcyclist cuts into my lane and turns around to flip me off.
Next thing I see? *Boom* He hits the stationary car in front and falls off the bike. HAHAHAHAHAHA. Let’s see you try to flip me off from the floor now, eh?
Thank you for making my morning, asshole. I wish I’d taken a photo of his glorious glorious fail but alas, I’m a responsible driver who doesn’t mess with my phone while driving.
Not so fun swerving through traffic like a maniac and flipping people off now, is it? :)
Here’s a selection of nom nom that didn’t manage to make it onto my Instagram (because we all know my Instagram is just filled with either pictures of food or my face).
They say the older you get, the more you’re afraid of. Is that true?
To a certain extent, I suppose. Or maybe not.
If I were to really sit down and ponder upon it, I’m inclined to think that the increased hesitation and trepidation is less likely the cause of being afraid but more likely the result of having much more to consider about.
As you grow older, there are a lot more at stake when you do certain things. Instant gratification isn’t as gratifying anymore when the delayed consequences hit and you realised just then how badly you’ve fucked things up.
There is a tiny devil may care streak in me, that I do admit. Granted, I’ve never been the type of girl to go full blown crazy and indulge in things like drugs, one-night stands, or hard crime, but I’ve done many a things I wished I didn’t do. Regret, after all, is part and parcel of life.
But that devil may care streak also brought me crazy exciting memories that cannot be replaced.
As I age, that streak has since mellowed, bolstered by a healthy dose of cynicism and doubt that only grow stronger as the days go by. Time and time again though, the devil wins and I end up doing things I told myself I’d never do, then the critical side of me sets in and I chide myself for my actions.
It’s a never-ending battle with myself.
When I’ve been stuck at home too long, everything starts to go downhill…
My waistline suffers because I eat when I’m bored. My bank account suffers because I shop online when I’m bored. My appearance suffers because there’s no one to see how much of a mess I am at home.
I really need to get back my car and more importantly, get a new job.
What have I gotten myself into? Another inevitable heartache? I’m so over this shit.
Maybe it’s time to cut my losses and call it a day.
Sigh, I’m just making one wrong move after the other. Time to get my fucking act together.
I can’t tell if it’s a good thing or not.
On one hand, I’m finally starting to feel like I’m making my way out of the entanglement of one web. A web that I’ve been stuck in for way too long, despite my numerous attempts to escape it. It’s still the early stages, but I feel as if I’m no longer paralysed by the spider’s poison and could think with a clearer head even when the spider is near me, flexing its pincers intimidatingly. I don’t know if this new found resistance is going to last until I fully escape the web, but I sure hope it does. Stumbling into this web has spelled nothing but trouble so far.
On the other hand, I fear I might be waddling into some other equally murky waters. And that I’m not the least bit prepped for it. What if I get in way over my head and drown? This is not a pool of water I usually swim in. In fact, I have not even come in contact with this kind of water before. It’s scary. I wonder if I could use this water to wash off the web and go on my own merry way after drying off? Then both the web and the water would not be threats to me any longer. However, that is only if there are no Loch Ness monsters lurking beneath the surface waiting to drag me down to the pits of hell.
Ah, life and its weird conundrums.