Expectation Hangover: When Life Ghosts Your Plans

What are expectations? According to the dictionary, an expectation is “a strong belief that something will happen or be the case in the future.” But that definition only faintly grasps what expectations really are. They’re more than a noun expressing an idea; they’re an emotion, a sensation, and, often, an unexpected killer. You know, Like the nice neighbor who loves his wife, holds BBQs every Sunday, has the best jokes on the block, and is always there for you when you need him, and then suddenly, he is on the NEWS as a wanted criminal for murder. 

Expectations exist in all contexts, from small daily hopes to lifelong dreams. Small expectations are like waiting for the bus and expecting it to arrive on time-only to feel that familiar frustration when it doesn’t. That’s life, though, right?  What's key to remember is that we are all at different stops, and just because it was on time for someone else doesn’t mean it will be for us. But if we give up waiting, we’ll never know if it would have eventually made it to our stop. And even if that particular bus doesn’t come, another one will. Buses, after all, have one job: to get to the end of their route. Just like us. 

In my short life, I've had some pretty wild expectations-social, emotional, financial, and academic. But let's be real, haven’t we all? Anyone else thought they’d be the next Hannah Montana? Or maybe the Next Justin Beiber? I really thought in my heart of hearts that I was gonna be 21, living in a mansion, with hot butlers and a personal maid. But here I am at 21, gripping onto my dreams that are threatening to leave, drowning in my own mind, and far from the life I dreamed of at 15.  

Those were some crazy expectations, so of course we know those won’t REALLY come true. (Unless……Hear me ou-). Putting that aside, it's the realistic expectations that hurt the most. This semester, I set out with a simple goal: a 2.7-3.0 GPA. Realistic, right? But I’m ending with a 2.2, which has shaken me to my core. I made my goals achievable, and I still failed. So then what? Aim high and fail? Aim low and fail? I must be fucking allergic to meeting expectations. And our brains love to pile on, convincing us we are the looser of the fucking century. The worst part? Eventually, we start believing those filthy lies. That’s when you find yourself in a dark place, scared shitless, stuck in a never-ending loop of self-doubt and disappointment.  

 In my last post, I shared that I was okay with the idea of not graduating on time due to that stupid class. But I was willing to fight it till the end, it’s not over till it's over you know? I held on to that hope until a depressive episode made the thought of being in that class so unbearable I needed to drop it for my sanity. And with that, the last string of hope of graduating on time finally snapped. It was a tough pill to swallow as it’s something everyone expects, including ourselves. I know I said I'd be okay with it, But I was mentally stable back then. You know what I am right now? Not mentally stable, that's for sure. 

That's a part of healing though, the thoughts we worked through yesterday can come back to haunt us tomorrow. And the solutions we found before might not help us again. I went from “It’s whatever” to wanting to curl up from anger, humiliation, and-worst of all- a bruised pride. My mistake? Not allowing myself to really feel that disappointment the first time I made that declaration. I tried to force peace without truly processing my emotions. 

I spent a week battling my thoughts, practically skydiving to find the positives in my situation. And you're not gonna believe it, I found it. “One more year means one more year to find my engineering husband…but also one more year to pay for.” I tried to trick myself into seeing this extra year as an opportunity, rather than a failure. Eventually, the idea of dropping that class became my first step out of the darkness. Funny enough, it was the professor of that class—the same one who gave me a 12/100—who reached out when I stopped attending. That small gesture from an unexpected place bitch slapped me so hard that it created a small disturbance in my depressive cycle. Though small, it was mighty. In a moment of negativity I had a spark of determination and I took it faster than it could vanish. 

I forced myself to walk to the dean of students’ office. I explained what I was going through, dropped the class, and got the support I needed. That one action led to another, and soon I was making plans with my advisor. Each small step brought clarity. Turns out, I could still walk at graduation in May and receive my diploma after finishing a summer class. I even found out about a 4+1 program that would let me pursue a master’s while extending my time here

All those problems I’d been carrying alone? My advisor and the wonderful lady from the dean of students helped me make sense of them, giving me the confidence to move forward. But I also remind myself how important self-care really is. It was the kindness and patience I showed myself that allowed me those seconds of hope amidst a night full of terrors. But I hope that you all know that we don’t need to push ourselves to “achieve” something in every single moment of hope we get. Sometimes, it’s enough to let those moments remind us that we’re alive.

If you’re reading this and you feel like you’re in a similar cycle, just know—I see you. I know how exhausting it is to try and push through, even in those fleeting seconds of hope. You don’t have to do it alone. Talk to your professors, friends, mentors—whoever feels safe. Or drop a comment here; I’ll read and respond. I can’t solve your problems, but maybe I can share something that helps.

Right now, I’m nowhere near where I thought I’d be in life. And maybe that’s exactly where I need to be…

~RCM