Great Expectations

Before I even get into this post (which is not about the novel Great Expectations—seriously, I will never, ever talk about classic literature. Ick!), I just want to say thank you to all the people who have been sending me messages and comments with encouragement. It really means so much to me. Which also brings me to my second point. If anyone has any feedback, positive or negative, I would be happy to hear it. I’m new to the blogging world, and I’ll take all the help I can get!

Now, here’s a little bit more of my story.

Near the end of summer 2012, I thought I was finally getting over some stuff. I felt stronger. It also helped that I knew I would be gone from that city soon. In retrospect, I can see that I hadn’t really made a full recovery. My hope and happiness was purely built on the fact that I would be gone soon. I hadn’t really dealt with anything in my heart. Nonetheless, I was happier and my family enjoyed being around me a little bit more.

Then my dad dropped the bomb. I was going to go to a summer camp with my old school and attend that school for about a month until we moved.

I. Was. Mad.

So I definitely wasn’t over everything. It wasn’t anyone else’s fault. It was just taking some time. A few hours after my dad had told me the news, I was finally calmed down. And I made a decision. I decided that I was going to have fun at this summer camp and during that first month of school. It had been a whole summer. A lot can happen in a summer. I knew that much. I believed that things would be different between me and my friends. Looking back now, I guess I actually had made some progress. I would never have been able to make that kind of a decision before.

I started packing for the summer camp. I was actually excited to see my friends who truly did mean a lot to me. When I got to camp, everything was great. For the first two days. The camp ran from Sunday night to the following Friday night. On that Friday, I crawled into my mom’s car crying really hard. Nothing had changed. I was still treated the same way. And I think it hurt more because I had expected things to be different. I was expecting too much.

The camp had included tryouts for our school volleyball team, and the coach was willing to let me play for the month that I was actually at school. Initially I had been excited about this, but after that week at camp, I told my parents that there was no way I was going to play volleyball with the team. I would go to school for the month, but after that, I was never going back. In the hours that followed that declaration, I thought it through and decided that I would play volleyball because it was the right thing to do. I knew that if I quit the team, it wouldn’t be in good conscience. As it turned out, packing for a crazy big move consumed all of our time, and I wasn’t able to play.

So, school came and again I made the decision to be happy. That stuck for about the first week. Again, I went in expecting way too much. I figured that because all my friends knew I was leaving, they would at least be willing to sit with me at lunch. Nope. The whole cycle started all over again. I would put my lunch down, and everyone else would go two tables over. Nothing had changed since last school year. Finally, I didn’t think I could take the isolation anymore. I put in a lot of extra hours of homework just so I could finish all my schoolwork and leave the school early.

On my last day, I was actually hoping to sneak out. I would just leave at lunch, and no one would know (or care, so I thought). But, my teacher (who was an awesome teacher) announced my departure to the class. To my surprise, I actually got a lot of tearful hugs and goodbyes. I was so shocked. And I actually cried. So maybe this school and the people did still have a place in my heart. Under my sadness.

For as long as I can remember, my dad has been hammering into me not to have super high expectations on anyone. Because you will be disappointed. He says that expectations are relationship killers. People are people. I’m not perfect; they’re not perfect. Other people’s expectations might differ from yours, and they can’t live up to your expectations if they don’t even know what you want! A lot of the hurt I experienced was due to my expectations. One of the first things my counselor told me was “Accept; don’t expect.” I can’t change anyone except myself. If I could go back in time and re-do everything, I would accept people for who they are. It would have saved me a lot of stress and heartache. Yeah, it’s really hard to not expect, but the pain from the disappointment is definitely much harder.
Love,
Jyllenna