When he drove away from my house, I exhaled a clean breath. Why? Was it a sigh of relief from argument? No. So why, when he left, did I feel so free? It has nothing to do with him.
I’m the problem, it’s me.
Well, maybe not ME, dear Taylor, but a phenomenon within me. Two sensations that attach themselves to my spirit when other humans are in my life. Hanging chads. Obligation and Expectation. They show up when others are in relationship with me. Little uninvited house guests. They intentionally leave the door open so that quiet, sweet honesty sees an escape…and sometimes takes it. She darts out the open door like a puppy off its leash. Lead by her innocence, she doesn’t think to look both ways. Sometimes she makes it safely across and returns after supper. Other times she gets smacked by an oncoming car and pieces of her scatter, littering the road in front of my house. It takes days, even weeks, to clean up the mess. All the while, Obligation and Expectation are making themselves at home. Putting their feet on my furniture, eating all my food, and leaving the toilet seat up. The lights are left on without a conscious thought, draining all the energy. I run around turning off lights, putting down toilet seats, and restocking the pantry…but to no avail. My exhaustion from cleaning up the outside and managing the inside is palpable.
They’ve been visiting so long that it’s now awkward asking them to leave. Almost like requesting family to get out of the house after the holidays when they’ve overstayed their welcome. They’re blood. You just can’t do that. Turning your back on family is frowned upon. Dr. Phil-worthy.
How long have they been showing up…uninvited?
At first, they were invited. I was 3 years old, and Obligation came into my small world to take care of me. He gave me strength and confidence where I didn’t have it. Taught me how to take care of my mother and run a household. He gave me the courage and wherewithal as a young child to comprehend the importance and necessity of caregiving. Showing me how the reciprocation is beneficial for love…long-lasting love. But there were rules attached to this understanding. The exchange will only work when I agree to put others first.
Obligation to myself is a no-no.
He convinced me at a very young age that he was there for my well-being to make me shine and stand out in the crowd. “This will make others love you,” he said. He never explained at what cost that would come. With no thought of how this symbiotic relationship would affect me down the road, I went along with it. I mastered it. It wasn’t until recently, when I exhaled, that I realized they were still taking up residence. Squatters. Living with an obligation to others makes me smaller, not stronger. Quiet, not confident. Timid, not courageous. His rule of putting myself last was, in fact, vindictive. He knew I was willing. When he met me, I was nothing but a freckle-faced ball of love. Born with an innate desire to please. But Obligation has a jealous streak, so he took advantage. He’s not able to change, not capable of true, innocent love. His spiteful nature seeked me out, found me, taught me, and changed me over time. Now he sits back and watches his work with side-eye glances and a Cheshire smirk.
Expectation is more complicated with a dual personality. External vs. Internal. The External Expectation perches on the periphery. He’s filled with hope yet is constantly being let down. Placing value on how others will respond…expecting, anticipating, believing…and then BAM!...disappointment. The Internal Expectation is domestic and fills every crevasse of my core. A relentless bully, he scratches at my insides. The opposite of hope, he expects me to be perfect. The expectation is, in fact, on me. The split personality of this house guest makes it even more dangerous requesting them to leave. As you’re never quite sure which one you might need.
Sometimes External Expectation is a necessary companion…having expectations of others allows us to set boundaries and even provide protection for ourselves. But it’s the receiving, the being let down that’s so difficult to avoid and always travels with him. A duffel bag of disappointment slung over his shoulder. He’s always hopeful, encouraging me over and over and over again to place expectations on others. The slyness is in his knowing…I will more than likely be disappointed…he knows it. Similar to addiction, I keep going back for more.
The other personality of Expectation Internally works on itself. Offering judgement without being asked. The bully. The enforcer. The Karen. If I don’t follow through, I’m only letting myself down. The disappointment that inevitably follows is tacitly more than just skin deep. I feel it to my core…and guess what…I keep doing it. More than addiction, it’s now become a habit. This bully convinces me I’ll be better, more successful, more beautiful if I just maintain high expectations of myself.
Both of these characters within Expectation cause disappointment. But when others let me down, I run to my closet for the ideal outfit. I know what to look for. I reach for either blame or reason. One of them usually fits perfectly and I can handle it when they’re draped on my body. The dangerous difference between this split personality is when I let myself down. Blame and reason are no longer hanging in my closet. Now they’re just useless pieces of fabric on the ground. Scraps. My closet suddenly becomes a 4-sided mirror, and my reflection only echoes my failures as far as I can see. Naked. Nothing to cover me up or help shift my disappointment. This is the bully.
When he drove away that day, they simply got up from the sofa…and left, along with him. I didn’t even have to ask them to leave. They floated out my door and down my street with my exhale. Like ghosts in the night. Honesty has since returned. Although she’s a bit mangled from the car accident…she wasn’t able to avoid it…she’s recovering. I’m cleaning up the mess that was left behind, sweeping up the big stuff, mopping up the stains, and drying the puddles. Honesty is hungry and my cupboards are empty. I need to fill them, take care of her, and get her back to homeostasis. Because they might return, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb. In fact, I’m sure they will be knocking on my door soon. But now I know the damage they cause and how long they like to stay. And it’s my choice, if I let them back in.
UNINVITED HOUSE GUESTS