High Hope & False Expectations
3:30 a.m. hits hard when my damp eye mask wakes me up.
Crying in my sleep again.
Normal. My normal.
Waking up in this world is not easy. Staying in your lane is not easy. And when you have so many people around you offering their best intentions, that attention can be overwhelming. Living up to others’ expectations creates a false hope—one that’s heavy to carry.
Everyone will agree that we no longer need to live up to anyone else’s expectations. Or that we don’t have to do anything we don’t want to do.
Except when it comes to their advice.
“You just need to take a walk.”
“You have to get out.”
“Have you tried working out?”
“Maybe a new hobby?”
Yep. I have. All of it.
And with every new experience, every hobby, every environment, there’s another person hoping to help me feel okay—even if it’s only for the moment they’re with me.
Every morning, I wake with the false hope that the last two-plus years were just the worst nightmare. Every morning, I wake with high expectations: that I won’t break down, that I won’t stay in bed too long, that I’ll check everything off my to-do list.
But then I remember what made me cry in my sleep.
Panic kicks in.
My breathing becomes shallow as the visions of the car crash replay.
The images. The hospital. The what-ifs.
They creep into my soul and remind me—again—that my high hopes have created yet another false expectation of how I’m supposed to be.
My life is an ongoing cycle of panic, sadness, anger, empathy, and extreme highs and lows—the reality of grief and loss.
Trying to live up to everyone’s new expectations of me created a false hope that I might have people who truly understand and want to love me through this. But when I’m not able to meet those expectations, my hopes fade, and I settle deeper into my new normal.
It feels like people expect you to figure this life out quickly.
It feels like my progress isn’t where someone thinks it should be—and therefore, I’m no longer worthy of more time to figure it out.
Everyone places new expectations on you. And when I fail to deliver on who they think I should be now, I dash their hopes that I can fit into what—and how—they need me to be.
I constantly feel like I’m not where people think I should be.
But where should I be?
When does everyone realize there is no owner’s manual for life?
There are plenty of books. Plenty of opinions. Plenty of ways to “do life”—as long as you rise to others’ expectations. Then they continue to offer false hope.
And sadly, I now know to stay guarded.
To put on a different brave face for each person.
To meet their expectations of how I’m supposed to be.
To keep their hopes alive that I’m okay.
Thank you for being here.
Thank you for reading.
XOXO,
Bri
