Why I Feel Expectations are a Limiting Belief
Art Direction and Photograph by: Catie Menke. Model: Toni Whitfield.
Copy by: Dyanna Potter
Model: Toni Whitfield
Creative Direction: Catie Menke
I learned very late in life that expectations are a limiting belief. If I put expectations on myself or others, if expectations are put on me they always end in disappointment.
When I was 19, I was married with the full expectation that this would be wildly satisfying. Being married was an expectation placed on me by my church. I was told being married would bring happiness like I had never experienced. I would fulfill the highest call as a woman and I would feel immense joy from it. I was told that a “woman’s place was in the home.” This was exemplified by the culture surrounding the church.
Because I didn’t feel the immense joy that was promised, I felt like a failure. In the church, men are highly favored. Most of the religion is catered to men and their personal and spiritual achievements. Men are the leaders of the home who is supported by his wife.
My ex-husband was very abusive and I didn’t feel like supporting him or his behavior. I was failing. Everyone else seemed to get it except for me. I was depressed, somber and lost. My friends and peers talked about their marriages as “being married to their best friend”, “being married is so fun”, “best decision ever”. The same stupid phrases that people think they should say to symbolize “true love”. Social media was the magnifying glass on my flaws. I saw posts about AMAZING husbands who did elaborate date nights, and graduating from school, having babies, buying houses.
I would look at my ex-husband disappointed. I picked a dud. My marriage and my life were in shambles. In the church divorce is highly frowned upon. I discussed with my church leader what the state of my marriage was. In tears and broken hearted that this is what marriage was, his response shocked me. He asked me, “What did you do? Why is he treating you like that? As a man of god he wouldn’t do that, you must have provoked him.”
As a woman the expectation was put on me to always support my husband no matter what. No matter what he said or did, no matter what he decided I was supposed to support him. I was supposed to be meek and mild mannered. I was not to speak up. Just a ghost by his side saying “Yes, dear.”
I felt like I was living in a glass box with glass shackles constantly around my ankles. What I wanted to do was limited because of other’s expectations. Because my place was in the home, getting an education was out of the question. I talked to my husband about nutrition and I asked if I could go to school. His response was, “Once you get pregnant you’re not going to use your degree so what’s the point? That’s a waste of money.”
My expectation was motherhood and being a stay at home mom. A career and an education were a waste. Because of this treatment, my physical health took a nosedive. I was thin and malnourished. My eyes were vacant and sad. My self-esteem felt like the pilot light had been extinguished.
After some time, I called my Dad. I told him what was going on and that I had to leave. My dad told me to grab a bag of clothes and leave for my Grandma's house. So that’s what I did. He came to pick me up a week later, and I went home.
I’ve been recovering from this abuse for over 10 years. It was detrimental to my mental health, physical health and spiritual health. Because of the church's reaction to my situation I was heartbroken. A place that I had dedicated my entire spiritual well-being to had reacted in a way I didn’t expect them to.
I put the expectation on them to be what I needed. I expected them to show me empathy, grace and understanding. That did not happen. When I think of the church now, my heart aches but it is also mingled with anger. I expected them to have all the answers, and they didn’t. I expected god to speak to me and guide me when I did everything they asked of me. And they didn’t. I never felt more alone and scared of the future than in that moment.
Of my family, and my relationships, my friends, classmates. It did nothing. I kept myself locked in a glass box on purpose. Without realizing that what I was doing was hurting myself. I was the one fuming and upset and the people around me knew nothing about it. That’s the thing about self-inflicted pain. You suffer alone.
The amount of questions I asked myself as to why others weren’t doing something was incredible. A rolodex of questions turning in my head over and over again.
But the expectations were at an all-time high. This time riddled with trauma and scars. With some deep dives into my past and my heart, I learned to let go. It was a grueling process to learn to trust again and have faith over fear, but I did it.
The other day my husband and I were talking and he said, “You’re kind of like Usain Bolt. But you needed the right circumstance to thrive.” This threw me off, and I had no idea what he meant. Without the right circumstance, situation, opportunities, Usain Bolt would never achieve the success that he had or become a household name.
He was highlighting that each of us have our own talents that in the right opportunities and timing, we can flourish. I wasn’t reaching my full potential because of so many obstacles in my way. I had to step outside of the church, my first marriage, myself and set up boundaries from others to grow. Until I did that, I was stuck.
I went to school for nutrition and dietetics, graduated at the top of my class and accepted a prestigious internship. I have a wonderful relationship with myself which in turn reflects on my marriage. I have wonderful friends in my life that are reliable and a chosen family who loves me unconditionally.
When I feel myself beginning to worry or fear, I take a step back and ask myself what I need. I take care of myself first, before anyone else. If I don’t, the expectant thoughts start and the fear creeps back in. I don’t want to be that scared person anymore. By living this way, with lowered almost diminished expectations, I feel free. I feel like I can achieve anything and without the unnecessary heartbreak I was used to. I have learned to lean in to the hard moments and pick right back up when they’re over.
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