I’m trying to ask myself this more often and to notice. What did you expect? And why is that? Especially when I’m dissatisfied, heatedly so, about how things are. Big picture, smaller stuff.
How did I get here?
What matters here?
What do I want?
What am I willing to do to get there?
To get there. Not to get it. It is the journey, the experiences, the relationships. Not just events and the score. It’s the story.
I was in a conversation with a friend the other day, who was thinking about someone in her life who had committed suicide. She didn’t know why. It didn’t seem like anyone who knew them knew why. All of the stories we take with us when we die—that don’t get heard. By anyone. Maybe not even by ourselves. There is so much to parse through to understand. What matters? Why?
I think about expectations more and more lately. As I get ready to start my big research project, I have a new kind of appreciation for expectations. I used to just think they got in the way. Underneath them though, is the point of the story we’re living now.