My expectations are pretty forthright or obvious. When it comes to people; I would like honesty and integrity and allow for imperfection. But in all honesty, I have come to expect less from people that I don’t know. As for friends and loved ones, I expect honesty and integrity. When it comes to circumstances; I hope for the best and expect the minimum. When it came to health and well-being; I never really thought about it until about 7 years ago when I realized how much I’d been through and my body had kept chugging along.
Should I expect less or nothing? Am I too strict on my expectations? I suppose the answer would could change by who you talk to. Some would say that expectations are a form of control or grasping. Some would say the expectation can only lead to disappointment. I would think that without expectation, we have no point of comparison.
I truly never expected that my health and well-being would result in going to the doctor 2-3 times per week. I am not terminally ill, I have a chronic illness. Actually, a few… but who’s counting? Nevertheless, I attend appointments, not to get better, but to alleviate the symptoms. The research is so minimal on fibromyalgia that no one knows the cause or the cure. Any psychiatrist will tell you it’s because of depression and anxiety. Most other doctors will blame it on the nervous system. All I know is that I don’t like it.
So I spend a lot of time alleviating the pain, anxiety and depression that comes with my chronic illnesses. It has only recently occurred to me that I spend a great deal of time on the alleviation through the quick fix (medications, acupuncture, OMT). Why not try from the inside?
Won’t a better diet put me in a better place? It HAS to, right? I put needles in my body, pills in my body and talk about it to therapists. Why not give my body a fighting chance??
Do I expect miracles? Wayne Dyer would emphatically say yes! Do I expect to feel better, embarrassingly, I say yes (naysayers abound). I hope, I dream, I expect. I see it happening. I want this so bad that I envision spinning freely through the grassy fields of Austria…. or my front yard… whichever.
This has to happen.
I expect to pop out of bed in the morning, get all the housework done and lay my head down at night feeling satisfied.
I expect to not forget to take my morning medications (like I just did, crap).
I expect to feel well enough to paint. Daily.
I don’t expect that it will alleviate all of my pain. I hope it does! But I don’t expect that. Lord, please make it so!
Maybe I should expect it.
Maybe I should also expect that my anxiety and depression will alleviate as well?
What will it hurt if I expect it all? Nothing. Not even literally.