The Trouble With Doubt

Doubt is a feeling everybody experiences at sometime or another. Some people like myself get to enjoy it during any decision they try to make, and then the rest of the time, too. Others rarely feel it at all (those lucky son-of-a-guns).

But as far as I can tell, it's not the most productive emotion. It delays decision making, increases stress, insecurity, and has other not so fun side-affects. Sure, sometimes that can be good; like if you're the sponsor of the Titanic, and you think maybe it's a bit stupid to call it unsinkable. Most people, however, don't encounter situations like that in their day-to-day life.

And that, folks, is a little something called irony.

But when it comes to relationships, and the formation of relationships, doubt usually is not helpful. Perhaps you like someone, and they do things that lend those around you to think the feeling is mutual. But you don't listen and instead choose to fret. Why? Because you're doubtful that someone you like could actually like you? That's not exactly a Titanic-premonition moment.

You can't really affect whether or not they feel the same way; all you can do is be yourself and hope that's enough. So why not release your doubts? Why not make the ride a bit more enjoyable, no matter the ending? And let that apply to more than just romance; in life in general, people are prone to doubting their ability to do things. So my task for you is to let go of your doubts, as much as you are able, and merely enjoy living.

And as a very wise person once told me, "Never underestimate your own awesomeness."

Great Expectations (and no, not the book)

"It seems to me your problem lies with your expectations."

 -Tomás Urrea, The Hummingbird's Daughter 

Despite my morose Pre-Valentine's Day post, I managed to have a Valentine's Day that greatly exceeded my expectations. Which one might think would be a good thing...but knowing my deeply dysfunctional nature, that of course did not end up being the case.

So instead of writing a post about how unexpectedly wonderful my Valentine's Day was, this post has the unfortunate responsibility of being about the dangers of expectations.

If you really sit down and think about it, expectations are a lot like mosquitoes; they serve no real purpose, and end up causing people pain and suffering. If I'd never had expectations about Valentine's Day, I never would have been let down when they weren't met. In fact, I might have never hated that day in the first place. And if I hadn't been so happy about the surpassing of my expectations this Valentine's Day, I wouldn't have created more expectations for the rest of the week. And if I hadn't continued to have better-than-I-expected experiences, I wouldn't have raised the bar of my expectations. And if I hadn't done that, well... I wouldn't have had my expectations so miserably disappointed.

The problem with expectations is that they crash and burn so much more spectacularly than hopes. Unlike hopes, you actually BELIEVE these things are going to turn out a certain way. That's a dangerous train of thought any day, but especially so when it regards the actions of others. If there's only one thing you take from this rant, let it be this: that you cannot know what someone else will do merely because you think it's what they should do. That's a very important lesson to learn, but it's probably one of those things that never really gets through our heads.

So as of this long weekend (jealously not as long as my VT friends' vacation), I'm recovering from Valentine's Week and figuring out ways to leave my pain-in-el-burro expectations behind. Currently, my plan is to just NOT let myself expect things of people. Feel like joining me?

It's worth a shot, anyways. And we could all use a little expectation-elimination.



P.S. (If you have any super-amazing/awesome/ANY ideas about how to work on overcoming expectations, email me at miss.morgan.blog@gmail.com. Also, if you've read some of the Q & A posts and you feel inspired to ask a question, please do. I sound much less pathetic when there's a purpose to my writing)

The Pre-Valentine's Day Post

~ Once upon a time, there was a saint named Valentine. St. Valentine was a priest. He did priestly duties and the like, until it was discovered that he did so by the emperor of Rome (and since apparently being a Christian was not allowed at that time, this was not good). He was then sentenced to death by clubbing, and just to make sure he was entirely dead, he was beheaded.

If you haven't started to cringe yet, you probably ought to. Anybody who starts a train-of-thought analysis of Valentine's day with a man being beheaded is most likely not going to be talking about roses and chocolates and kittens, even though some of those topics might negatively come up later (like tomorrow). Consider this your formal warning: run away while you still can - nothing good can come of this.

Valentine's day is one of those many holidays that has become a money-making paradise. Considering that February 14th has absolutely nothing to do with love (and seemingly more to do with painful death), it's fairly suspicious that millions of people are told they should go and buy romantic things to make their significant others feel special. After all, nothing says love like a red teddy-bear holding a heart.

V-Day is also one of those days I forget I hate until it happens. In fact, every year like clockwork, I convince myself I actually like Valentine's day. This lasts of course until Valentine's day, upon which time I remember that I really despise the holiday, and end up spending all 24 hours miserably contemplating the fact that the day I was so looking forward to is actually really lame.

So to lessen the expected fallout of tomorrow's disillusionment, this year I've decided to brace myself by remembering that, actually, I DO hate Valentine's day. The latest V-Day episode of Glee is also assisting me by providing pre-holiday irritation (yes, they're just made-up characters; no, that does not make them matter less). And even though I know that's not enough to stop my hallucinatory expectations of how tomorrow will turn out, I'm hoping this will make me slightly more bearable to the poor souls who will have to deal with me.

May your chocolates be average and your teddy-bears ugly.
XOXO