The Weight of Expectations
51The Weight of Expectations.
I went to the doctor for a physical last week; good thing I’m generally a confident gal because otherwise I might have cried at the sight of the nurse moving that little black square further and further to the right. I’m heavier now that I have ever been. Given my propensity to eat every sweet in sight has taken the place of how often I used to exercise, it really shouldn’t have come as any surprise. And yet, it did.
A well-worn trend of mine is surfacing: seeing what I want to see instead of what is. In some ways this is hugely beneficial: I am often an optimist when others have long ago given up. I pride myself on the ability to delay gratification, knowing that what is difficult now will one day be something beautiful. I value the journey. I live in the now. Where do I also live? The island of denial.
Unlike others who live in solitary denial, mine is a denial of the masses. I am pretty insightful and when I encounter people I often am able to see through the masks and walls to just see them. The thing is, the “them” I see sometimes isn’t the “them” they see (more often, it is the “them” they don’t want to see). I move forward in these relationships, with friends, students, family members, unconsciously thinking I can guide them through their struggles to meet my expectation of who they can be.
The thing is, these are my expectations for them, not their’s. I project my view of who they should be, who they could be, and expect them to get there. Very generously I work along side them to help them become their very best selves, and inevitably I find myself working harder for my goals than they are. As frustrating as it is, it surely makes sense; why would they work diligently on my goals when they could be working on their own?
Every time I think I’ve seen the peak of my arrogance, there always seems to be a higher point around the corner.
Before I go beating myself up for being narcissistic, however, there is an even larger issue just under the surface. I said my island of denial was crowded and here’s why: in focusing on others, I can avoid focusing on myself; all the while, everything from my marital conflicts to my weight creeps up as I remain in the struggle to make others into who I want them to be.
I make other people the priority so I don’t have to focus on me. I know what I need to work on, I know the challenges I have to face, but I don’t want to. It’s too hard. So, instead, I’d rather work on them. Is it any surprise when they lash out? Or worse, when they step back from my daunting expectations to find some place a little easier to just be?
The solitude is scary, but clearly that’s where I need to go.
Anybody want to join me?
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I was wondering how much of this began or was clarified after the weekend in Wawona.
I like what Brian had to say. Erroreously, I thought only women knew the martyr role.
Brian Driver 2 years ago
I can totally relate. Always wanting to guide people down the path that I feel (no, that I KNOW, dammit!) is best for them - all the while, with my own issues to work through that can always wait just a bit longer. Issues that perhaps have more than a little to do with the ideals that I'm driving others toward in the first place.
Am I trying to better my loved ones as a way to better myself by proxy? Because by some perverse logic, it seems somehow easier to try to push someone toward some ideal that I've built up for them, than it is to try to strive toward my own goals.
But even if the objects of my attention ever did achieve that ideal (which of course, they rarely do) how does that help me become a better person? At the end of the day, is this more about avoiding my own self-loathing* than helping others better themselves?
Which leads to this - maybe through this self-imposed cycle of driving others toward a ideal, and failing at it, I'm subconsciously setting myself up as the martyr figure. If I'm going to fail at something, it may as well boost my self-esteem, right?
*I'd say overall I'm a happy guy, but I still think the term self-loathing applies. I think any highly intelligent person can fall into this trap all too easily.
Intellectually and objectively, we intelligent people know our strengths and failings in a way many less intelligent folks do not (Was that statement arrogant? Maybe. True? Absolutely). However, all plans toward self-improvement notwithstanding, in Freudian terms, the id doesn't care how damn smart we are, and wins out more often than not - we eat impulsively when we could be working out, or we put off that home improvement project because we want to unwind and watch some TV or read a book, or we spring for that new doodad we've been wanting instead of putting the money in the vacation fund. And when we slip, our highly developed super-ego never lets us forget it. Thus, our bruised ego leads us to cast about for someone we feel we CAN fix, in part to improve our sense of self-worth.
Which rarely works out like we planned - perhaps because everyone ELSE has an id too, which compels them against what we feel are their best interests. But we conveniently forget this when we idealize who we'd like them to be, and of course this sets in motion the cycle of push>>fail>>martyr. Wash, Rinse, Repeat.
And the irony is, I KNOW all of this is true. But it still won't prevent me from having a bowl of ice cream instead of carrot sticks tonight (knowing I can ill afford the extra calories), nor will it prevent me from trying to get my bipolar brother-in-law to stop smoking pot (knowing I'll fail miserably, because he likey the herb).
P.S. Wow - sorry for the long comment. I guess this touched a nerve or something. :-)