Maybe, Just Maybe, You're Expecting Too Much of Yourself

You learned to be this way, but you can go easier on yourself.

Something I’ve thought a lot about over the last few months is how various iterations of me have believed that I should know better, should be able to figure it all out myself, and should be, do and have more. Where and what I’ve felt this about has shifted over the years. From feeling like I shouldn’t make mistakes at school or disappoint the adults in life, to giving myself a hard time for being in a painful relationship and not seeing that getting hurt was inevitable, to this notion that I kinda sorta have to get things ‘right’ and ‘successful’ with work quickly or it’s a bust—these are just a sample of the unrealistic pressures I’ve put on myself.

If my experience is at all familiar to you, I invite you to consider the following:

Hands up if, during childhood, you attended a class or course about boundaries, feelings, needs, wants, values or how to healthily navigate your interpersonal relationships or work? Exactly. Odds are, you didn’t. And even if you got some guidance, it likely centred around chastity, self-defence, religion, not being lazy, and the like.

Boundaries? Um, what boundaries? They weren’t even in our vocabulary. Back in the day, our parents and caregivers owned our boundaries!

Feelings? It was never discussing or ignoring them. Feelings were shut down with shaming and name-calling—shoutout to anyone who was called sissy, crybaby, drama queen, crazy or misery guts—or with threats of punishment (“You want something to cry about? I’ll give you something to cry about!”).

You could also be one-bettered (“You think you have it hard! This is nothing compared to what I had to go through.”). Or perhaps people discouraged talk about anything regarded as difficult or shameful, which, incidentally, encompassed a hell of a lot of stuff. And even when we did talk, sometimes we weren’t believed or protected.

Needs? Many of us grew up thinking that needs were basics (food, shelter, water), material goods, and outward signs that our parents/caregivers were doing “well” (read: impressing the neighbours, church or extended family), such as a well-kept home, kids at school, or car parked in the driveway. And the one-better brigade could always argue that we had it better than they had. Needing more than that, like say, attention, affection, support, not being beaten, cussed-out or saddled with inappropriate responsibilities, was seen as “needy”, “too sensitive”, “spoilt” and “demanding”.

Wants? Nope! We were reminded that we are (or should avoid) being selfish, or that wanting/desire was a sin. Of course, there was the one-bettering again (“When I was your age, I had no shoes and didn’t go to school”) or using meeting material needs as a cast-iron alibi for not being there emotionally or physically. We’re not neglecting you by being absent, abusing you, or never showing affection or listening if we’re buying you things or ensuring you go to private school.

Values? Ha! Our parents and caregivers, including random adults we were told to hug, kiss or call “aunty” or “uncle” expected unquestioned obedience. This wasn’t limited to following what, in the cold light of day, were often arbitrary rules designed to keep us manageable, under control and away from the scrutiny of others, or about teaching us right from wrong. Nope, it also meant being who they told us to be and avoiding doing anything regarded as shameful, which cast a pretty wide net. It also didn’t stop at childhood; we were expected to be the adults they wanted with the education, job, high-status profession, house, partner, marriage, children, sexuality and any other life choices they’d decided.

And we didn’t have conscious, constructive, healthy lessons about how to, for instance, date and choose compatible partners, make and keep friendships, interact with our family while being a grown-up with their own life, or work without burning out. Instead, it was mostly about what not to do and which rules and people to follow and copy to be “successful”. We gleaned our lessons from observation (My parents argue all the time so when I grow up, I’m never going to argue with romantic partners), experience (They punished me for being honest; I won’t do that again) and the culture (Relationships in ‘Dallas’ and ‘Dynasty’ are glamorous and volatile with happy endings. It’s not love if I don’t have to jump through hoops).

You attended the School of Life. You’ve essentially bumbled along cobbling together what you’ve learned, using that as a map to guide you.

It’s why you might have no clue what boundaries are or how to meet your needs even though you’ve made it your vocation to attempt to make everyone else happy by fulfilling their needs and avoiding assertiveness.

Your teachers and lessons were the people, community, culture and experiences you grew up with. While, undoubtedly, some of what you learned is and was positive and useful, you’ve also consciously and unconsciously learned harmful and unproductive messages that made you lose your no and focus on being a people pleaser.

You create expectations of yourself (and others) because that’s what you learned.

Those expectations didn’t (and still often don’t) exist in the context of who you are, including your bandwidth and boundaries, so you didn’t have these as your compass to give you a sense of whether it’s too much, too little, or just right. And, you know, on some level, there can be a sense that given how certain folks expect(ed) too much of you and you’ll often go out of your way to try to rise to or even exceed these that it’s okay to keep expecting too much of yourself and others.

People pleasing is so baked into society and culture that you were socialised and conditioned into thinking, feeling, being and doing things in the way you have and believing that this is who you are and have to be. But it’s like using a map to try to get to London’s King’s Cross Station and winding up hundreds of miles away, and then using the same route again.

If you don’t notice where you keep winding up in the same feelings, thoughts, behaviours, choices and situations, you’re likely going to feel as though there’s something wrong with you, that you’re not enough and are powerless to change. The more you blame yourself or fear messing up or getting hurt further from trying again, the more you inadvertently reinforce the very patterns you want to break out of.

Yes, you’ve been an adult for some time, and maybe you think you’ve got good reason to give yourself a hard time given your age, intellect, experiences and advantages. But I invite you to consider that you’re human and that means repeating unconscious patterns is part and parcel of the adult experience. Given, also, that the world is still in its infancy of understanding boundaries, mental health, and the importance of self-care, expecting you to be ahead of billions of people and human development is too much.

Acknowledging why you habitually think, feel and do certain things isn’t about blaming others; it’s acknowledging the journey you’ve travelled to this point.

No matter what you do in adulthood, you cannot cut off from your earlier experiences. What goes unacknowledged and unaddressed just finds a way to express itself in other ways. In needing, on some level, to distance or cut off from your younger self, it only speaks to buried pain, fear and guilt that will need to be addressed before they address you through painful patterns.

I say this as much to myself as I do to you: Maybe, just maybe, you’re expecting too much of yourself.

What I’ve been up to

• I’m back from a month of travelling (San Sebastián in Spain, home to Dublin, Ireland, and Freetown in Sierra Leone) and am gently easing myself back into ‘work mode’.

• Loved Simone Biles Rising, her documentary that follows her from the Tokyo Olympics in 2020 when she had to step down due to mental health to the qualifiers for this year’s Olympics. A sobering and inspiring watch for those of us who’ve ploughed on despite trauma and also an invitation to everyone to stop judging people who experience burnout and other physical and mental health challenges.

• My sister’s lovely best pal Sandy chatted with Stroke Stories about having a stroke aged twenty-three and having to get to know this version of herself who can’t do everything she used to.

• I wrote about How To Say No To Anything for Marie Claire.

• I’m saying it here so it’s out of my head and committed to in public: my podcast is coming back in the autumn, this time with guests (and more healthy work boundaries for myself, haha). I’m excited about having some necessary conversations. My first guest will be… my brother. More soon!

• The Joy of Saying No is currently $1.99 on Kindle for US readers.

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