Chasm

Expectations can be powerful deterrents to what we really want our lives to look like.  An expectation is defined as "a mental image of something expected, often compared to its reality”.  When expectations align with reality, all is right with the world, but often they don’t.  When the two don’t match up, what do we do?  When it’s an expectation I have of myself, I almost always keep forging ahead until I get what I want.  Admittedly, this is not always the right approach, as I have spent a fair amount of time in front of closed doors attempting to beat them down.  But the real conundrum is contending with expectations I have of others, especially my children.

My oldest son, at 16, believes that he is not what I expected him to be as a person, and while he is adamant that he is not going to change, he imagines this somehow disappoints me and he feels the need to apologize.  Is this what expectations do?  Do they leave us apologizing for who we are?

Before I respond to him, I need to get clear on what I expect. 

As a wrath-filled teenager myself, besieged and insecure, I expected there to be conflict between my children and I as they move through adolescence.   He is doing what he is supposed to be doing at this age:  Testing the boundaries, demanding more freedom, taking risks, caught in that awkward space where he so badly wants the adult privileges but little of the responsibility.  He’s forming his own opinions, speaking his own mind, and getting pleasure from the shock value that creates.  But the mistake he’s making is in thinking that in all cases, as a 16 year-old, he can act on his beliefs when they are contrary to mine. 

I think the person who is not meeting my expectations in this situation is me.  I expected to be able to handle what he dishes out. I expected problems I could solve, of the temporary kind; that would be wrapped up in some prescribed period of time.   I expected to be able to find impactful consequences, impart them and have the lesson be learned.  

I didn’t expect such brash defiance, open practice of behaviors of which he knows I disapprove, with the evidence strewn haphazardly about as if there is no regard for the possibility that it could be uncovered.  I didn’t expect desires with the potential to permanently close doors or take him down a path I can’t fathom.  I didn’t expect a ferocious need to express creativity in ways I can’t comprehend.  I didn’t expect to disagree so vehemently with some of his views.  I didn’t expect such a great divide between what I want for him and what he wants for himself.  I didn’t expect to not understand. 

Is he what I expected my oldest child to be?  No.  He is so much more than that. 

He is passionate about causes he believes in, a fiercely loyal friend and brother, a talented writer teeming with creative ideas, a budding leader, an outspoken advocate for justice, a confident speaker, an introspective artist, a compassionate and generous soul.

I need to find the right words. I need to say them a million different times and ways:   The words that convey to him how much I love him for who he is. The words that say the rules aren’t in place because I want to change him, but because I want to protect him. He needs to be able to somehow hear the message that he doesn’t have to understand me and I don’t have to understand him.  We both need to be respectful of each other’s beliefs, but at this stage in his life, where we diverge; there is no other option for him but to yield to me.

This is by far the heaviest anchor I will ever lift:  The one that allows me to move through the letting go.  Where does the strength come from in these really difficult times? 

This is not what I expected.