No expectations means that whatever it is, it’s wide open. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to do anything. It doesn’t t mean I want to do everything. It means I am open and listening to what I need to do. I wake up and decide. It does not mean making plans. Plans are expectations. Expectations from the outside world…I have to be honest, sometimes it’s just too much for me.
Believe it or not, there are people who might find this idea a bit bizarre. There are folks here and there who would find it strange to even think of not only refusing, but denouncing all expectations. I know a few, some of whom may share genetic material with me. That’s not really important, just pointing it out to establish my own ethos on the issue.
For the following “breakdown” of why I cannot have any expectations placed upon me for at least the next 3 moths, I ask that you assume I am talking to you. True, I have no idea who you are. But you are reading this. You know me, or you know someone like me and we need you to understand this:
- Do not expect me to attend family gatherings of any kind. These events are very difficult for me. My absence has nothimg to do with you whatsoever. I will be there if I can, but I hope you understand if I don’t show up.
- Do not expect me to think ahead and make plans. Every single one of my days, hours, moments are unpredictable. Asking me to make plans is setting the expectation that when the time comes, I will be able to do what we had planned. That is very often not the case.
- Do not expect me to show up this time just because I did last time. I’m going to get very real with you. October through December 2015 – some of the most amazing months of my life. October through December 2016 – a vacant hollow blur, followed by pain, torment, and indescribable grief. I was/am a broken machine. October through December 2017 – I can’t even begin to fucking guess, which is why I can’t make any plans for anything.
- Do not expect me to somehow know when you are feeling hurt by something you think I did. I am living from moment to moment, trying my best to keep track of my own thoughts and emotions. Please don’t make me responsible for yours. I know this pain is impossible for all who loved my sweet baby girl, but I can’t take resposibilty for your grief and your pain. Mine is already too much for me.
- Don’t expect me to be totally cool with or open about even the simplest of “get-together” idea. If I haven’t made it clear yet, this shit freaks me out. I won’t explain it, because it won’t make a difference.
All of these do’s and don’ts come down to a very few, but very real questions.
- Do you love me?
- Do you trust me?
- Do you really want to help me?
If yes, then put your stupid bullshit away for a few months and help me.
If no, then shut the fuck up because I don’t give a shit. For realsies. Move on for now. We’ll meet up again later.
If you really can’t empathize with what I have stated, if you are a staunch believer in “expectaions are a part of life, without them, how do we find our compass?” if this is your paradigm, no one can shift it but you. I am simply explaining my paradigm. Whether you agree with it or not, I do not fucking care. One of the side-affects of being completely ripped apart is that I live in a world where how I feel is in no way contingent upon any other person. What a blessing.
Already I feel like apologizing for making demands, but I won’t. I can’t. This is what my survival looks like right now.