Let's Eat Grandma! (Communications 101)

Ben:

A key component to establishing and keeping any relationship is the ability to convey thoughts, ideas, emotions, needs, wants, desires, intentions, and even dislikes to one another. In short, we need to be able to communicate with one another.

Humans have an entire arsenal of ways to communicate. Our verbal speech alone gives us a multitude of ways to convey meaning. The language we speak, the tone, the volume, and the pitch at which we speak can all convey a host of emotions.

Let’s try a single word for starters.

“Run?”

"Are you up for a jog? Do you run often? Do you like running marathons?"

“Run.”

"I’ve just come in from a jog. I’m exhausted. I was the one voted to go on a snack run and now I’m back."

“Run!”

"It’s the zombie apocalypse! There’s a guy with a chainsaw! Milli Vanilli reunited!"

Depending on how you say something, it can mean a whole host of different things. Add to that all the nuances of body language and especially facial expressions, and the ways we can communicate are limitless.

Unfortunately, all that complexity leaves us vulnerable to break-downs and mishaps. Take a misplaced or missing comma, for example.

"Let’s eat Grandma!" Instead of "Let’s eat, Grandma!"

If one absent punctuation mark can turn cute and cuddly grandchildren into matricidal (or parricidal) cannibals, think what an errant raised eyebrow or frown could do!

The problem is that we as communicators tend to make a couple critical mistakes.

1. We assume.

Oh yes, we take the first bit of out-of-context information we can get our grubby little mitts on and we run with it, baby! We are all too eager to get our underwear in a bunch because of something we were sure we’d heard our friend or romantic partner say.

“I knew you didn’t like my Mr. Rogers shirt! I saw that look you gave me. You’ve always hated that shirt. Admit it!”

Family members and people in long-term romantic and platonic relationships especially fall victim to this. They’ve spent enough time with one another that they think they’ve got the other person pegged. They work diligently as relationship Sherlock Holmeses, putting their cases together so one day they'll have an open-and-shut case about the other person's motives. They assume the other person has kept something covered up or outright lied about it, and they’re going to get to the bottom of this thing, by Jove. (And when they do, oh boy, they’re going to let them have it!)

Give your suspects the benefit of the doubt. Don’t read into things. If there’s something of genuine importance you want to know, just ask! Also, trust what they’re telling you. On the flip side, don’t play games. If someone is really trying to get to the bottom of an issue between you, and they are openly trying to work it out, be honest! Communication has to be accurate and trustworthy.

Maybe we have insecurities of our own that we’re sensitive about, and the moment we think someone’s strayed into that sacred ground, we simply go off. Truthfully (this was true in school and is still goes for all stages of life), people are too concerned about their own shortcomings to notice yours. If they happen to make an offhand remark that hits you where you’re most vulnerable, unless they’re a sociopath it was most likely a coincidence.

2. We don’t clarify.

If someone did say something that was potentially harmful or revealing, it's okay to ask them to explain what they meant (provided you’re not being aggressive about it). It’s also okay and even a good idea to let them know what you thought they said. So much of what we say to one another is lost in translation. For instance, a person who learns English as a second language will look truly perplexed when you say it's raining cats and dogs. We all have different backgrounds and influences on our lives, and we each have a collection of unique experiences; so, there’s no way we all can understand what each other is saying 100% of the time. It’s not a sign of stupidity to ask someone to clear something up – in fact, it will show them you’re truly interested in what they said. Where the three most important words in close relationships are “I love you,” I’d say the close runners up are, “I don’t know.”


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Esther:


I suspect we women don't have quite as much trouble understanding men as we do making ourselves understood.  This isn't entirely our fault.  After all, women have traditionally been supposed to hang back a little, let men approach, not lay out our naked feelings to be rejected or condemned.  We resort instead to an intricate system of cues, hints, and code words.  We do this even among ourselves, which is kinda silly; if you can't be completely honest with another woman, who can you be honest with?

It's possible, I think, to layer yourself in so much camouflage that you start to believe your own CodeSpeak, or at least to lose touch with the truer words underneath.  Consider the few samples below as a Public Service Announcement to women who'd like to rediscover what they're really saying, and to men who have no clue.

"Nothing." (To the infamous question, "What's wrong?")

A. I'm not okay, but I'm afraid talking about it right now would make it worse.

or

B. I'm not okay, but I can't tell if you're really concerned; I'd feel better if you'd press the issue so I know you care. If you don't press the issue, I'll be more guarded with you the next time nothing's wrong.

"Does this make me look fat?"

I'm feeling insecure and need reassurance. For the love of God, reassure me. Quick.

"I'm sorry."

A. I'm sorry.

or

B. I'm pacifying you.

"I love you."

Now you say it, too.

"No, go ahead. Enjoy yourself."

...if that's really how little you care about me. I clearly care more about you because I'm letting you go even though I don't want you to, which means I already win the fight we're going to have later about this.

At the heart of all this indirectness is the inability to trust that other person with your truth...and that's a red flag, no?

It could be because that person hasn't engendered trust. Maybe you've tried honesty and gotten shot down. If that's the case, the relationship might need some examination. On the other hand, maybe that person has proven him/herself quite safe, but you just can't make yourself say what you mean. If that's what's going on, well, you should probably sit down with yourself and have a long discussion. (Ben's influence is responsible for my recent advice-giving, btw.)

I've been guilty of saying things I didn't mean, and still do it around those few unsafe people I'm stuck interacting with for various reasons.  Hey, it's scary to say the real things underneath. When you're unclear and someone hurts you, you can at least hold onto the hope they did it accidentally.  It's much harder to recover after you've succinctly exposed your deepest vulnerabilities and someone tramples all over them. It only takes a few hurts of that nature to become an expert in CodeSpeak, for survival's sake.

After finding a few relationships where I can free-fall into honesty, I've found truth to be so addictive that it's irritating to have to hold back now. Personally, I think it would be entertaining to start a truth movement. I think "let's just be friends" should be replaced with "I can't imagine dating you," and "let's agree to disagree" is ousted by "shut up about it, you're ****ng me off!"

The world isn't ready for that just yet, but I think we can take baby steps. Little clarifications here and there.

So, yeah. Let's eat Grandma.

Gypsies and Hobbits

Ben:

People typically fall into one of two camps: A.) Those who love to make lists in sentences (like me) and B.) those who don't (like Esther).

The Free Spirit (or Gypsy): "Ugh, you're so controlling! You've got to have everything just so!"

The Nerd (or Hobbit): "Ugh, you're so eccentric! You live in utter chaos!"

The age-old clash of personality types plays out time and again in relationships of all sorts. Your classic "odd couple" scenario occurs when the Nerd in the relationship is preoccupied with making sure every detail in the relationship is planned (charted, categorized, numbered from highest to lowest, and ordered alphabetically), while the Free Spirit flips a coin to decide everything from what they eat to where they'll go that day.

Since I'm the resident Nerd and a Nerd expert, I'll discuss Nerds :)

The Nerd

The Nerd gains satisfaction and comfort from having an orderly existence.

Do Nerds contribute to a relationship? Absolutely, they do! They'll keep the trains running on time. Dates, places, names, and appointments are efficiently monitored. Nerds wield their Excel spreadsheets with effortless proficiency. Friends of Nerds feel well looked after, as their birthdays are remembered and their RSVP's get answered. The relationship thrives because tasks at hand get tended to, whether they're bills to be paid or projects to be accomplished - the Nerd will see it done.

Sounds great! We should ALL be Nerds, right? Uh, no. You see, Nerds don't do spontaneous nor do they embrace the new. They prefer the comfort of the familiar - even if the familiar isn't so great and even if the new is far superior. They'll cling to their tried and true ways like a squirrel to a branch in a windstorm. Extreme Nerd-like behavior can strain the relationship in a number of ways. First, the Nerd is so convinced he's thought of every conceivable angle in his planning and prep that nobody else can have anything to offer. This results in him being resistant to input from others.

The other problem is that their planning efforts have a tendency to eclipse the events themselves, so much so that the goal of the activity, whether it be fun or productivity, becomes compromised. Take, for example, the Nerd-father who plans every second of a family vacation. He drags everyone along at breakneck speed, fretting over every detail, and stressing over minutia to the point that, instead of relaxing and enjoying themselves, the family is exhausted and miserable.

Psychology of a Nerd

Nerds fear losing control. They fear that if they don't control things, the worst will happen. A maladjusted Nerd will not work well with others and is a poor collaborator. They tend to be high-strung and lose their temper when things go in opposition of their plans. In most extreme cases, they attempt to control everything and everyone around them.

How does a Nerd survive in a relationship?

In a word? RELAX.

Accept the fact that many things are beyond your control. It is a gift to be able to stay on top of things. The world needs people like that.  But you've got to know when to put down the paper and pencil, close the spreadsheet, don a Hawaiian shirt, and put your feet up. Also? You're only one person! You can't see things from every conceivable angle. Truly listen to what other people have to say - there's wisdom all around.

Finally, open yourself up to new things and experiences. Step outside your comfort zone. There is so much unpredictable fun to be had out in the world, but you'll never experience it if you don't go and try to have an adventure.


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Esther:

What makes a "Gypsy" or Free Spirit so fun is that she can turn a normal, errand-filled day into an adventure.  You might think your Saturday drive with her is to pick up milk and eggs at the grocery, but along the way you'll discover a magical, half-hidden side road full of breathtaking scenery.  You'll wander with her into a small shop full of wind chimes and incense, whose wizened proprietor makes you wonder if he will still exist, tomorrow, if you inquire about him to the locals.  You'll find a new shortcut you're going to use the next time you drive to work, and you'll enjoy an impromptu picnic in an old graveyard when she realizes it's past dinnertime.  At the end of the day, you'll have a great story to tell, but you won't have any milk or eggs.

The Free Spirit is a noticeably loving mom.  She senses the moment one of her children is upset, and she knows just the right approach to ease it, whether it's coaxing the child to share the trouble with her, or chasing the child through the house until she's caught him and tickled him into a state of laughing exhaustion.  Never having completely grown up, she's the first to dash outside with the kids to play in sprinklers or blow bubbles.  Naturally attuned to her household's pulse, she knows when it's time to break out a board game, and when it's time to let everyone do their own things.

Just as loving with her husband as with her children, the Free Spirit is exceptionally lavish with her praise, encouragement, support, and physical affection.  She can make her husband feel like the most important man in the free world, and when he despairs because a monkey wrench has been wedged into their best-laid plans, she can quickly devise a Plan B without even losing her good mood.  Best of all, did I mention the, uh, physical affection?

A Free Spirit will bring sunshine and rainbows into your home.  You will hear songs of angels in her dulcet voice, and you will weep at the beauty of her paintings.  Forest animals will gather outside the windows to glimpse her dancing from room to room.

If you think you'd like to go out and get yourself one of these Free Spirits for your own household, be aware that she does come with a few warning labels.

May Cause Dizziness
If unfinished projects, randomness, and frequently losing someone's attention give you a nervous tic, a Free Spirit may not be right for you.

Contents Under Pressure
Your Free Spirit is only easygoing until she isn't.  In fact, she stresses out probably more than you do.  This is because, everything you feel, she feels, MAGNIFIED.  When she's happy, she's really, really happy.  But when she's not, well...

Sharp Edges
Since she feels everything so strongly, when you've hurt a Free Spirit's feelings, you've really hurt her feelings, and she'll explain how you hurt her feelings - for a very, very long time.  Also, if you must box her in with parameters and deadlines, be prepared for pouting and downright grouchiness. She knows she sucks at parameters and deadlines, but she likes to pretend she was going to do that thing before you interrupted and told her to do that thing.  Now she doesn't want to do that thing anymore.

Adult Supervision Recommended
Someone's going to need to remember to move the clothes from the washer to the dryer while she's all "The Hillllls Are Aliiiive" out there.  She may be adorable and funny but she will regularly forget the daily maintenance of the children.  She'll need help with her own daily maintenance, too, unless you don't mind her dashing off late to work with mismatched socks, and driving her car down to the last drop of oil.

Objects in Mirror May Be Closer Than They Appear
Pairing a Free Spirit, or Gypsy, with someone who can remain grounded while she takes to the air - a Nerd, or Hobbit, for instance - will produce dramatic results.  Similarly to the Hobbit, a Gypsy is capable of accomplishing certain kinds of goals on her own; once she combines forces with a Hobbit, however, her possibilities are virtually unlimited.

Fish and Family Fits (or, Having Fits With Fish and Family)

Ben:

Recently, Esther and I set up our 30-gallon fish tank. You’d be surprised how much planning goes into establishing a tank. First, you have to make sure the fish have an adequate life support system, such as filters to cycle waste out of the water, a heater to maintain a mild tropical temperature throughout the year, and an air pump to oxygenate the water. You then have to treat the water by adding bacteria and removing the chlorine. Add some rocks, some decorations, and an overhead light, and you’re good to go! Almost.

Even with all the right components in place, you still need to let the tank sit for a bit to let all the chemicals, pumps, and filters do their respective things in order to be ready to receive its residents. However, you can’t throw just any fish in there. You can’t pick too many or you’ll overwhelm the tank, you can’t mix aggressive fish with passive or fragile fish, and you’ve got to choose fish that will thrive in the environment you’ve set up.

Well, we followed some great advice from Jack’s in Huber Heights (yeah, it’s a plug, sue me), and picked fish (and frogs) compatible with the tank and one another. Even following everything by the numbers, it still took time for everyone to acclimate to one another. Some fish hid in the corners of the tank while others grew uncharacteristically aggressive. Eventually, though, everyone got comfortable with one another and we have one big happy aquatic family.

What on earth does that have to do with anything? Well, that’s just fish; consider the dynamics of setting up a habitat for a family of five!

If you’ve read our previous blog posts, you know that through great effort (and support from friends and family) we were able to set up our human tank, complete with all the appropriate life support features (plumbing, power, furniture, and especially Wi-Fi). In addition, we had thoughtful conversations with the kids to make sure they were indeed comfortable with our two families merging. We took all the appropriate steps, and yet it's taken some time for everyone to find their niche in the family and the household overall. One member will need space while another feels lost in the mix. Someone isn’t happy about this arrangement or that, while others feel simply overwhelmed about the strangeness and newness of the situation.

So, is this an utter disaster? Did we grossly miscalculate? Are we DOOOMED!

Certainly not.

I’m sure this is common in most blended family situations. Even people with the best of dispositions (or kids - ours fall into this category, I’m happy to say) will find acclimating to a new family and living dynamic challenging at times; change on any level is usually taxing, even if it’s good.

So, my first bit of advice on this or any other subject is: DON’T PANIC!

[From my first blog:]

The only exceptions are:

1. You or someone near you has caught fire. Or you AND someone near you has caught fire. In either case, extinguish yourself first, then help the person near you. Trying to do so in the opposite order won’t be very productive. If the person near you wasn’t on fire to begin with, you’ll wind up catching them on fire; if they were on fire, then the two of you combined will most likely combust even faster. Come to think of it, panicking doesn’t do much good in this situation. 

2. Either a large asteroid is headed for the earth; an alien invasion force is, well, invading; or the Hadron Collider in Geneva has spawned a world-eating black hole. In any of these cases, it is perfectly acceptable for you to panic. Of course, it won’t affect the outcome, but if it makes you feel better, go for it. 

3. Finally, Milli Vanilli gets back together. Trust me, of everything I’ve mentioned thus far, this frightens me the most. I’ll be setting up a hotline. In case any of you catch wind of this world-ending event, WARN ME.

Second bit of advice: if you’re a parental unit in this situation, unless someone is clearly crossing the line, roll with things. Give everyone around you a moment to breathe. Address the nit-picky stuff once everyone’s had a chance to settle in, and, even then, consider if it's something you need to nitpick.

Third: if you’re in a relationship with another parental unit, work together! I’ve been blessed with a wife who possesses equal parts fun and common sense – an excellent combination to have when you’re dealing with pre-teens/teens. I enjoy our level of free-flowing communication and it has been invaluable in getting our household up and running.

So, how are we doing? We’re just like everyone else.  We have great days and we have not-so-great days, just like a normal family.

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Esther:

"...just like a normal family."

I'm gonna have to stop right there.  Do you know what it's like to be "just like a normal family"?  This is something I am not yet qualified to write much about because, until now, I've had no experience. In stories, when the main character's life has been a series of hardships and then that person stumbles out into a happy ending, the reader is left to assume the protagonist magically figures out how to behave in the happiness of normalcy.

Heh.

There's something I bet psychologists have always wanted to do, but of course for ethical reasons can't do, and that's to teach a young child all the wrong words for things and then watch the results. This is not far removed from my sum of experiences. Having had a childhood in which I was isolated from most worldly/pop cultural things yet regularly exposed to some harmful things, I was an odd mixture of naive and streetwise when I was set loose into the world. That acquaintance with harm and distrust of the innocuous heavily influenced the choices I made; those choices then reinforced my existing beliefs about the world. This is a typical pattern for humans everywhere.

Now, at some point, a person who has started down a broken road will reach his or her first real conscious choice.  There is more brokenness down that direction, or an easier road this way.  Unless you're a fool, you'll choose the easier road, of course...if you're self-aware enough by this point to see it really is easier.  Maybe you've traveled so long down an uneven path you've developed a permanent limp, and it would hurt to walk a smooth road.

I refused, in the quiet in-between time before I met Ben, to start down any more broken roads.  Granted, I didn't know much about well-adjusted relationships, but I knew I wanted one, and that had to be half the battle right there.  What I didn't account for was how ingrained my limp had become by the time I'd met him, and couldn't have guessed how long it would take to unlearn.

We've arrived now, in a normal, well-adjusted, healthy family, except that I keep having to learn everything.  Days stretch into weeks and my muscles grow sore as I brace myself for harm that will not come.  Words have truer meanings, tones are safe, and I laugh at myself, this fish out of water that I've become, this soldier back from the war who finds peacetime strange.  I see why so many people from dysfunctional pasts don't venture out of the familiar.  It's hard work to learn this new language of living; harder than diet and exercise, harder than anything else I've done that was good for me.  However, I'm only a month into it and I feel results.

I'm not much of an advice-giver, but this I will offer: chase after health.  Run hard after it, and tackle it, and in those recurring terrifying moments when you don't trust in it, grip it even harder.

It is the most amazing thing you will ever feel.

The Old College Try

Ben:

I'm a sucker for inspirational sports movies. Take Rudy, for instance. He's a small fry from a blue collar family who wants to make his father proud by playing football for Notre Dame. His dream is a long shot at best, given his stature, but he goes for it just the same. The movie then goes on to chronicle his journey toward his goal. It culminates, of course, in him reaching his goal (after a fashion). The movie is chock full of memorable quotes and sweeping orchestral arrangements, and, yes, it's also filled to the brim with sentimentality, but hey, it's Hollywood.

During Rudy (as well as similar movies), they play montages of the protagonist doing various things such as working out and practicing. Interwoven with those scenes are others showing repeated attempts and failures at doing various tasks to demonstrate progress (or lack of). After a few minutes of footage that has you cheering breathlessly for the hero, BAM! - he's in a position to realize his dream.

Yeah. The montage part's crap. There's nothing instant about what he did.

Goal reaching is arduous, time consuming, stressful, and even boring at times. For example, take what I endured last night. After a full day of pouring over tax accounting pages and scrutinizing every detail, I discovered late at night that I was utterly unprepared for the homework yet to be done. I experienced doubt and frustration, and, yeah, I was ticked off a bit (thank God for Esther, who talked me off the ledge, LOL).

So, why reach? If it's such a pain in the butt and there's no guarantee of success, why try at all? There are so many positive byproducts of trying to reach a goal even if you don't reach it. Take weight loss, for example. You decide you want to lose 30 pounds, so you join a Thursday night exercise group, cut some calories, and walk in the mornings. Weeks pass, though, and you lost 15 pounds instead of 30. Well, considering you began dating someone from your Thursday night group, you reconnected with an old friend on your morning walks, and you sleep better and have more energy, I'd say that even though you didn't meet your goal, you still improved your life in trying to reach it.

What can be gained if I fall flat on my face in school? Well, I've met some extraordinary people, my vocabulary is stronger, I've learned quite a bit about the world and myself, and even if I don't hit it out of the ballpark this semester, I've still got all the credits I've earned thus far, and I won't stop reaching for that next handhold on my climb up.

Understand that when you do decide to reach for something in life, there will be setbacks and frustrations along the way. Budget those in along with the extra time it may take for you to get there. It falls back to what we talked about before: tailor your expectations so you don't feel defeated when you don't teleport directly to your objective.

My problem began when I ignored my own advice, set my expectations impossibly high, and assumed a doom-and-gloom scenario all because I didn't understand how to research a tax issue. That's a V8 facepalm-worthy moment if there ever was one.

Also? I think Rudy's greatest accomplishment was not reaching his athletic goal, but rather the fact that he graduated Notre Dame with a Bachelor's degree! I didn't give that aspect of the movie much thought at the time, but now that I'm climbing the undergraduate ladder myself, I have a new-found respect for anyone who tries to better themselves through higher education.

(On a side note, thank you to all who've been joining us! We're having an absolute blast writing our blog and we hope you're getting something out of it, too.)



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Esther:

An educational feature of marriage, or of just living and working so closely with someone, is the opportunity to compare and contrast each other's strengths and weaknesses.  If you're smart (and I am), you will capitalize on the other person's strengths.  Early on, for example, I was successful in impressing upon Ben the remarkable talent he had for cooking and doing laundry.  But I digress.

I've always found it odd that both sayings hold true: "opposites attract," yet "birds of a feather flock together."  On the other hand, some people are so alike they can't stand each other, while others are so different from each other that they never learn how to relate.  Maybe one component of a successful relationship is that perfect chemical balance between similar and dissimilar.

In social settings, Ben and I tend to raise eyebrows, prompt chuckles, or elicit the comment, "Oh no, there's two of you?"  It's true we do share a remarkable number of interests, tastes, opinions, values, personality traits, and the suchlike. Therefore, it's always a little surprising to be reminded of our polar differences: his morning to my night, my spontaneity to his plans, his concrete to my abstract, my gypsy to his hobbit.  These differences are double-edged swords, each of them.  At times, we weave the perfect dance of leading or following according to whose strengths the situation requires.  At other times, we trip all over each other's feet and sit out the remainder of the song, wondering how we lost the rhythm.

[The real fun begins when we chance upon a shared trait; say, a weakness.  Ben and I are both anxiety-prone, so sometimes I talk him off the ledge, sometimes he talks me off the ledge, and sometimes we're both on the ledge together, in a display of hysteria I suspect would amuse onlookers.]

One of my husband's strengths I don't yet possess (but hope to cultivate) is his relentless pursuit of goals.  I've never before seen someone conquer goal after goal and then stare down the next goal, as if to warn it, "I'm coming for you next."  Even in those dark moments of self-doubt, his determination remains untouched.

I haven't given my goals "the old college try."  I haven't even properly fleshed them out as goals, but kept them nebulous wishes.  It would sound noble to say this was because I was too busy being a caregiver and, later, a single mother, but those life situations were probably just comfortable cop-outs.  From childhood on, I've been afraid to try.  Afraid to cartwheel and risk getting scraped.  Afraid to rebel and call down parental wrath upon myself.  Afraid to venture too far from familiar hurts.

This fear is without excuse when I consider my husband, who has seen death and the end of everything, and still got up the next morning, and the next, and the next, and didn't just survive things - he started changing things.  He's spurred me to make a few daring grabs at my own goals, little goals, yes, but goals, nonetheless.

Fear - of failure, success, humiliation, and the unknown - churns in my gut each time I reach for something I care about, but I'll keep reaching.  In time, maybe the training wheels can come off and I can go after bigger goals.  Maybe one day I'll even have the courage to stare down one of the really big ones and say, "You're next."

Not So Great Expectations

Ben:

Over the past few months, Esther and I have toiled to fix up a house and plan and execute a wedding so we could merge lives and work toward a common goal; I've labored to get into Wittenberg University; we set up the kids in a new school, merged our budgets, and completed a host of projects that seemed nigh impossible a few months ago. During those late nights of painting and moving, we fantasized about the hard work being over one day, and our life as a family beginning.  So, here we are!

Now we're juggling school and work schedules, groceries, laundry, a dog that dives out screened windows, and various multiple things with deadlines. As a result, we grouse and pine for when things were simpler. What happened? We met every goal we set out to reach. Why aren't we deliriously happy, twirling about in the mountains without a care?

Expectations can be the bane of any situation. Some of you may remember this scenario. As a kid, you asked and asked for that One Toy. Your friends had it (you heard them bragging about it all day at school). The kids on the commercials had it, and they were having the time of their lives, according to the cool voice-over guy, mesmerizing graphics, and blazing sound effects. The store shelves were lined floor to ceiling with it – a virtual monolith of fun, a temple of kid ecstasy erected so high it became the Kilimanjaro of the department store, visible from any vantage point. It permeated your very dreams.

You were told you couldn’t have it right away, that, instead, you should put it on your Christmas list. You then felt like a lovesick sailor months from home, not knowing if his true love would be waiting at the dock when he got in; but for weeks, you sacrificed. You went to bed without complaint, you strove to fly under the radar at school, and you did your best to maintain nonaggression pacts with your siblings. The exercise was draining, but, as it increased the odds your wish would be granted, you endured long days of suppressing your natural kid-like instincts.

Then the day came, and, after participating in the Christmas Day rituals and routines, you were finally awarded the gold ring, the prize, THE ONE TOY. It was indeed your Precious. At first.

At first, you had ecstatically, violently ripped off the wrapping, you'd aggressively torn open the box and cut the plastic pieces that bolted it in place. The One Toy had tumbled out of its cardboard womb followed by reams of instructions and pamphlets for even cooler toys set to release in the spring. But then you noticed something.

The One Toy was smaller than it had appeared on TV.  There was no cool voice-over guy and no snazzy sound or visual effects.  It was just you, your over-hyped toy, and a mountain of disappointment bigger than the pile of crumpled wrapping paper on the family room floor. You're still you. It didn't solve all your problems, it didn't make you the coolest kid on the block, your siblings still picked on you, your bed still needed to be made - The One Toy changed nothing except that now you no longer had The One Toy to look forward to. (Not to be dissuaded, you stuffed your mouth full of chocolate and played with your new Lego set while watching Empire Strikes Back on VHS with your family.)

This scenario plays out over and over in life. You'd think we'd learn from our childhood experiences, but time and again we play the elevated expectations game just to find ourselves flat on our backs like Charlie Brown having the football yanked away by Lucy yet again. We do this with weight loss, or getting that perfect job, or finding the right romantic interest. We get stuck in these ruts of discontent, and look to things and people to solve all our problems. A great example is the serial dater who thinks another human being will fix the broken pieces of his life, only to discover each time that the other person has her own collection of fragments. Disillusioned, both people walk away from another unsuccessful relationship. Another example is the person who diets or exercises, improving her body with the expectation that angels will descend and people will line up around the block to date her. But when she arrives, she is still herself, there is no hallelujah chorus nor famous actors looking her up, and she falls into a depression - which is what happens to all of us with lofty expectations of various life goals.

So what's the point? If there's nothing but an overrated toy and an empty box waiting for me, why get out of bed Christmas morning? Why reach? We know, of course, that it is worth it to reach, because of the good that can come of trying to improve one's life. But how does one avoid the expectation crash? First, be content! ("Boring! Boooo!") No, I mean it. Wanting what you have, appreciating where you are in life, even if life isn't all that ideal, is key to being happy.

If you've done that and are still out of sorts, then closely examine your life. There's a good chance you've got some things you need to work out, whether it's an unresolved conflict with a friend, some old issues from when you were younger, or something more serious like depression or anxiety that needs a professional's touch. (And please listen when I say this: anxiety, depression, and other things of that nature are not signs of weakness! You don't just "get over it." If you're persisting in that state, then it's either external, in which case you need to remove the cause of your pain, or it's internal, in which case you should speak to a professional. You don't just "get over" diabetes or high blood pressure, so make an appointment! We've all needed help at some point. Ok, rabbit trail over...)

Once you've got your ducks in a row, then look to improve your life. If you're looking for a relationship, find someone who shares your life goals. Lose weight because you want to reduce your risk of heart attack or stroke. Look for that better job because it's what you're called to do. Just understand that each level in life will present its own set of unique challenges, and be prepared. Also? Just because things don't look the best now, doesn't mean they will stay that way.

Remember: things aren't ever going to be as good as you think they're going to be, or as bad as you think they'll be.

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Esther:

I like how Ben doesn't tell you his inspiration for this post was my minor meltdown last night, in which I howled my certainty that this was our life now, and that we would be frantically running errands, catching up housework, and collapsing late into bed with our Maslow's needs still unmet each night until we died of old age.  I don't know how I thought a five-person household with full-time working/studying parents would be run, but I do know that "down time" has begun to take on the shimmering, mythical form of Shangri-La.

No matter how often that inner logical voice reminds me to check my expectations, though, I can't seem to regulate them.  They build to Disney World fervor when anticipating a weekend trip, and plummet to phobia-strength panic when my boss calls me into his office.  It's a track record of being wrong that extends backwards for years, and if I could convert the doggedness of these mistaken expectations into personal fuel, I'd have published several novels and founded a couple charities by now.

Thankfully, by the time I'd met Ben, my expectations for a relationship were finally pretty healthy and realistic, but I attribute that to having survived post-divorce dating.  (Really, survived, as in, "made it out alive."  If you've had to venture back out into the dating world after a long-term relationship, you know what I mean.  Crazy abounds.)  But despite knowing what my marriage can and can't (or shouldn't) provide, I still lack the ability to level set my expectations on other topics.

For the past eighteen years, for instance, I've fantasized about my Great American Dream during a monotonous stream of driving to work, coming home from work, driving to work, coming home from work. It's possible I'll wake up one day and grab the Now, in whatever form that takes, and it's also possible I'll retire without ever having taken a step toward my dreams.  Either way, it'd probably be a good idea to learn to be content in whatever state I find myself.

It's funny how things can pass you by while you're straining to see into the future, to see other things.  There were late nights, just a few months back, in which Ben and I scraped at whole rooms of wallpaper until our arms were jelly.  During those nights, all I could fix my thoughts on was our blissful future married life.  Now the future is here, and my thoughts return belatedly to the bliss right there in that kitchen full of wallpaper peels...to our laughter bouncing off long-quiet walls...to the companionable rhythm we fell into and were delighted to discover we had together.

Whether the future is as good as I hope or as bad as I fear, I hope my expectations never get so loud that I can't hear the magic happening now.