I vividly remember the day I realized that my expectations were slamming me. For a while, I continued trying to justify their existence with a whole load of buts…. but…. But… BUT only to realize that it was all a feeble attempt to prove myself right. Surely it’s okay to expect? But if I don’t expect, then what? On the odd occasion where my expectations were met, I felt so good. I felt so right! That then brought me to see the irony in the word “right” – says who? Says me? Oh, now I am right? How pious and righteous I was. I expected my husband to be just like me; organized, punctual, interested in all the things I was… I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t organized, punctual, interested in all the things I was and judged him because of it. I expected my kids to be like me; why did they forget so much? I didn’t forget that much when I was their age… It was when my kids started going to school that I began to realize that I had high expectations. “I expect you to tidy your room.” I’d say to my daughter. “Why?” she asked. …Read more →