Expectations

I recently got really mad at my husband. News flash, we fight. Oh, you and your partner fight, too? Okay, well then, you get it. I guess the news flash was really for me.

I was yelling at him for asking me to take HIS shirts to the dry cleaner. I mean, come on. Why couldn’t he do it? I was running the kids to and from God knows what, working full time just like him, and volunteering for kids’ all important activities. Everyone is always asking me for something, and he should know better than to pile on.

His eyes were wide. This dry cleaning thing is something I do all the time, and I was headed to the same shopping center anyway. Why was today so different?

That was when it hit me. He was right (which is the case a frustratingly large amount of the time). It wasn’t a big deal, and yes, I could take the shirts. I simply needed to voice the real reason I was upset. Go ahead, Grace, say it.

I was upset, because I do for everyone else. No one ever helps me. I make all the appointments, arrange for sitters, set up social events, manage the sports/activities calendar, take and pick up the dry cleaning, jockey the kids to the doctors, fill out paperwork, and on and on and on. The thing is, though, I don't ask for help. How was my husband to know I was drowning in the chaos, feeling lonely and underappreciated? I never told him. I never asked for the hand that everyone else in my house seemed fully capable of asking for. I was expecting him to see what I so dutifully hid from the world. I was overwhelmed and hating it.

When we got to the real issue, I cried. There was no longer anger, but an unveiling of resentment that was both unfair to my family and to me. They could never measure up to expectations they didn’t know existed, and I was being asked to do more than I could handle, though they weren’t aware. After all, it always somehow got done.

This was a lesson on several levels. One, I needed – clearly – to become more adept at admitting to needing an extra set of hands. This is very much not my jam. I am a self-proclaimed doer. Allowing myself to say, “I need help” sounded a lot like “I can’t do this” inside my head. When, in actuality, it means I am human.

Two, I definitely have to examine my anger for a second (or longer) before opening a can of whoop ass on those I love most. Even though they may be in the wrong, my flying off the handle isn’t serving anyone well. It just makes everyone feel bad. Plus, if my anger is misplaced, this gives me the time to make sure I am directing my feelings in the right way.

And finally, the big punch in the gut…I need to learn to love myself. I need to extend myself grace when things aren’t perfect, and I need to put "Me" on my list of priorities. While it first seemed selfish to me that I devote time to my personal growth when I am attempting to raise two girls to be strong women, that suddenly shown itself to be the exact reason it is important. Being an example of a woman valuable and worthy of investment, kindness, forgiveness, and fun is what I want for my girls. So yeah, I am now experiencing a revival of sorts – a love affair with myself. I don’t know what it all means yet, but if I can’t figure out what I want, expect, and cherish, I cannot expect those around me to respect my needs.