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Do, or do not. There is no try. (Jedi Master Yoda)

You know, there are few things in this life that irk me like folks who say they’ll do a thing, and then don’t do what they’ve said they will. There are few things that irk me like people who say that they’re trying – when they’re not.

I will be the first one to admit that I have exceedingly high expectations. Those start with myself, though. I expect nothing of others that I do not first expect of myself, and I hold no one to higher standards than I do myself. You can look at that two ways, I suppose. Either that I will be in a perpetual state of disappointment, or that I am in a constant state of expectation – which is really optimism, which is really faith.

I have an intense amount of faith in people. I believe in them. I believe the best about them. And yes, I am continually disappointed. And that’s okay. I had an interesting week, and I had some unique opportunities to have that faith affirmed in the most spectacular ways – ways which surpassed even my high hopes.

No matter how discouraged, disgruntled, disgusted, disappointed I have been by people, I have also been delighted, entranced, and bemused by them. I am often simply enamored by them.

I really do take a step back each time I find myself facing that disappointment, and figure out whether I am being fair or not. Sometimes I am being fair, and the only thing left in that case is to figure out how to call them on their transgression. Other times, I’m the one who’s being unreasonable – and if that’s the case, I’ll be the first one to say that I have been, and to apologize.

I have also reached a point in my life when I realize that my tendency toward high expectations is as much a part of me as the shape of my hands and the thickness of my hair. Ingrained, essential. And despite the frustration of being disappointed from time to time when people fall short of the mark I’ve drawn for them, I cannot be another way.

To stop expecting them to dazzle me with their brilliance, their kindness, their humor, their irreverence, their passion, is to stop expecting to be perpetually surprised by life and all that it holds. Because the thing is that so often, people exceed my expectations.

I really don’t see the point of ‘try’ – I’m no Jedi Master, but there really is doing a thing or not doing it. I can be straining and trying to lift a thousand pounds – but the fact of the matter is that unless I’m lifting those thousand pounds (doing it), I am not doing it. There is no try. And that applies to me, too. No, I’m not always clear on where I am with an issue, or how well I’m doing a thing (or how abysmally I’m not doing it). But I look at all of it, take it all in.

This week, I’ve been dazzled by the enormous potential for people to astonish me with their love, their generosity, their humility. And I’m inspired by it. I’m moved by it. My faith is invigorated by it, and renewed. Because I’ve seen folks out there not trying, but doing.

Oh yeah — May the force be with you. 🙂

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The other day, Jeremy (my fiancé) and I had an argument, and I gave lack of confidence as a reason (excuse) for my behavior in the situation. He, incredulous, turned to me and said, “I ran 400 miles away from my family, my hometown, and my past. You stayed here with all these same people, took it on the chin, and kept going. Don’t tell me you’re not confident! You’re one of the most confident people I’ve ever met.”

Where do I begin? My first thought was, “That’s a lie. I’m not confident. That’s bravado and stubbornness disguised as confidence.” My second thought was, “He really thinks that about me?” And my third thought was, “I never really had a choice.” In many ways, I see what he did as brave – venturing off to try his fortunes all on his own – and what I did as “cowardly,” I guess.

I suppose that one of the main reasons I “stayed here and took it on the chin” was that, in my family, there is no running away. They will come get you – if not physically, then emotionally. I was too well trained to the family expectations to go haring off to Ireland as I longed to do. When my life crumbled around me, I heaved a sigh (well, a few hundred sighs, actually), squared my shoulders and kept marching.

At the time, I’d thought that I’d changed dramatically – and I had. Everything I believed about myself, about others, about the nature of life and love and relationship, about reality, about success and failure, about individuality, about “good” and “bad” had changed. Everything had changed. I had changed.

I just hadn’t changed as much as I thought.

The moment we try to please another and abandon our own truth for theirs, we essentially hand our power to them, violate our own integrity, cut ourselves off from our inner wisdom, and – at least for a while – disconnect from our ability to love and nurture ourselves. (Betty Ford)

I was the Good Daughter. I did my duty. I tried not to disappoint my parents – I followed the code of behavior they laid out (both written and unwritten). I was very good at covering up misbehavior and lying “for their own good.” (Honestly, there are some things that parents don’t want to know their children are doing, that the majority of kids end up doing).

I exceeded expectations. I developed a strong perfectionistic streak. I attended all functions, I said the right things to the right people. I worked a LOT – too much (important in our family – being jobless for any reason is “shameful” – along with a lot of other things). Wherever they stated an expectation, or where one was unspoken, I not only tried to meet it – I tried to do it perfectly, so that I would be “beyond reproach.”

When being a “good girl” or a “good boy” becomes a way of life, we can be sure that exhaustion will accumulate, resentments will build, desperation and neediness will increase, and we’ll travel deeper into the land of victim consciousness. (Betty Ford)

So, when my life fell apart, when living by all those codes and rules didn’t automatically guarantee success, security and safety, I questioned everything. I suppose I went through a sort of “second adolescence.” I rebelled against expectations, figuring that if it was impossible to meet their standards, I’d do whatever I damn well pleased and pretty much courted displeasure as much as I courted their pleasure before.

And then the pendulum swung again. And I realized that in courting their displeasure, I was destroying my relationships with my family. I had to find the “happy medium.” At first, I thought that I’d just swung too far the other way (from people-pleaser to people-displeaser), but it’s really not that simple. All that I’d really changed were the externals. The circumstances, the situations, the conditions. Deep down, I was still aiming to eventually shine in my parents’ eyes, and in everyone’s eyes.

And now, I think I’m finally starting to “get it.” I didn’t take things far enough. I changed my course of action, but I never really changed my reasons for acting or my rationale. I never went deep enough. I hadn’t touched what Dani calls “my core foundational beliefs.” And I realize that until I do that, nothing will really change. 

Now, I’m working to try to rewrite that story. Recast myself. Discover what it’s like to do something just because it’s what you want to do – and not because you know that action will get you the pat on the head. I’m trying to imagine my way towards what it means to be me – without the people-pleasing.

Come have a look through my kaleidoscope eyes. Come walk with me, as I make my way down the Path of Mastery (complete with fits and starts and pitstops and potholes). Our very impermanence is what makes us burn so brightly, and struggle so valiantly, and feel so deeply – it’s what makes us seize the day, and the moment. Come in, settle in, share a moment with me.

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"Who are YOU?" said the Caterpillar. This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, "I--I hardly know, sir, just at present-- at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then." (Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Chapter 5)