The heaviest thing we carry isn't what it actually is. It's what we think should be.

There's a particular kind of exhaustion that doesn't come from doing hard things. It comes from living under the constant weight of expectations—the ones we place on ourselves and the ones we carry about how life and people should show up.

It's the bone-deep weariness of constantly measuring reality against an invisible standard. Of being perpetually disappointed. Of trying to force what is into the shape of what should be.

And here's what nobody tells you: the expectations aren't protecting you. They're crushing you.

The Expectations We Place on Ourselves

Let me ask you something: What do you expect from yourself on a daily basis?

Not what you actually do. Not what you manage to accomplish on your better days or even your average ones. What do you expect you should be able to do?

Go ahead, make a mental list right now.

How long is that list? How many hours would it actually take to complete everything on there? How much energy, focus, and capacity would you need to meet all those expectations?

Now ask yourself: Is that list based on your actual capacity as a human being? Or is it based on some imagined version of you that doesn't get tired, doesn't have bad days, doesn't need rest, doesn't have limits?

Yeah. That's what I thought.

Most of us are walking around with expectations of ourselves that would require us to be superhuman. And then we're genuinely shocked and devastated when we turn out to be just... human.

We expect ourselves to:

• Be productive all day long (except we're not machines)
• Show up perfectly in our relationships (except we're tired and distracted sometimes)
• Manage everyone else's emotions (except that's literally impossible)
• Keep our own emotions under control at all times (except emotions don't work that way)
• Make healthy choices consistently (except sometimes we just want the damn pizza)
• Never drop the ball (except we're juggling like forty things)
• Be available when people need us (except we can't pour from an empty cup)
• Handle stress without breaking down (except stress is designed to break us down)
• Grow and heal at a steady, measurable pace (except healing isn't linear)
• Be further along than we are (except we're exactly where we are)

And when we inevitably fall short of these completely unreasonable standards, we don't question the standards. We question ourselves.

"What's wrong with me? Why can't I handle this? Everyone else seems to manage. Why am I struggling with things that should be easy?"

But nothing is wrong with us. The expectations are just completely divorced from the reality of being human.

The Setup for Constant Failure

Here's the thing about expectations: they create a fixed picture of how things should be. And then they make us wrong every single time reality doesn't match that picture.

The expectation is the setup. The disappointment is inevitable. It's not an if, it's a when.

We expect ourselves to handle stress calmly. Then we have a panic attack in the Target parking lot. We've failed.

We expect ourselves to be patient with our kids. Then we snap at them over something small. We've failed.

We expect ourselves to eat well and move our bodies consistently. Then we order takeout three nights in a row and the gym membership sits unused. We've failed.

We expect ourselves to have it together by now, to be past certain patterns, to have figured certain things out. Then we realize we're still struggling with the same old stuff. We've failed.

But here's what's actually true: None of these are failures. They're just reality meeting expectation and expectation losing every single time.

Because expectations are rigid. They don't account for our actual state on any given day. Our actual capacity in any given moment. Our actual humanness in this actual life.

Reality is fluid. We're tired some days. Overwhelmed others. Triggered by things we thought we'd healed. Some weeks we have bandwidth. Others we're barely keeping our heads above water.

And when we hold ourselves to expectations that don't bend with our reality, we set ourselves up to feel like failures constantly.

Not because we are failing. But because the standard is impossible and unchanging while we are human and gloriously, frustratingly variable.

The Inner Voice That Never Shuts Up

Most of us have internalized these expectations so deeply they've become the voice in our head we think is just... us. Our inner monologue. Our truth-teller.

"I should be doing more." "I should be better at this by now." "I shouldn't struggle with this." "I should be able to handle this." "I shouldn't need this much help." "I should be over this already."

Should. Should. Should. The tyranny of the internal expectation that never takes a day off.

And here's the truly insidious part: this voice sounds like it's trying to help us improve. Like it's motivating us. Like it's keeping us accountable. Like it's the thing that keeps us from becoming lazy or complacent or too comfortable.

But it's not helping. It's just creating constant internal pressure that makes it nearly impossible to be at peace with where we actually are.

We can't heal while constantly measuring ourselves against where we think we should be. We can't grow while berating ourselves for not growing fast enough. We can't rest while telling ourselves we should be productive.

The expectations don't make us better. They make us exhausted. They keep us in a constant state of low-level shame.

Always a little bit wrong. Always a little bit behind. Always a little bit not enough.

And we can't build a life of actual wellbeing on a foundation of constant self-disappointment.

When My Expectations Met Reality (And Lost)

I've learned this lesson the hardest way possible. Multiple times. Because apparently I'm a slow learner when it comes to releasing control.

When my dad was sick, going through cancer treatment, I had this expectation. This picture in my mind of how it would go. He would fight. He would eat the right foods. He would do everything the doctors said. He would push through. He would heal because that's what I needed him to do.

My expectation was clear: his desire to survive would match my desire for him to survive. His capacity to fight would match my need for him to fight.

But that's not what happened.

His capacity to heal, to eat, to move through treatment the way I wanted him to, it just... wasn't there. Not because he didn't love me. Not because he didn't want to live. But because my expectation of what he should be able to do had nothing to do with what he was actually capable of in his body, in his reality.

I was holding him to a standard based on my needs, my fear, my desperation. Not on his actual state. His actual capacity. His actual journey that was his to walk, not mine to direct.

And I had to learn, in the most painful way, that my expectation didn't create his obligation. My need for him to heal a certain way didn't make him capable of healing that way.

I had to let go. Not of him. But of my expectation of how this should go.

Then with my son. Type 1 diabetes diagnosis. Then Hypermobility EDS.

I wanted him to have a normal childhood. A simple, healthy body that didn't require constant monitoring and management. I wanted him to run and play without pain. To eat without calculating carbs. To just be a kid without having to think about his pancreas or his joints or whether his body would cooperate today.

I had this timeline in my head. This picture of what his life should look like. What parenting should look like. What "healthy child" was supposed to mean.

But his conditions changed everything. How we had to approach life. How we have to prepare for every outing, every meal, every activity. The hypervigilance required. The constant adjustments. The reality that his body works differently than I expected it to, than I wanted it to.

I had to relinquish my timeline. My need for him to have a simple, "normal" body. My picture of what his childhood should be.

Because my expectation of what his life should look like had nothing to do with the reality of the life he actually has. The body he actually lives in. And holding onto that expectation? It didn't change his reality. It just made me suffer while trying to force something that was never going to be.

I had to let go. Not of him. But of my expectation of who he should be, what his body should do, how his childhood should unfold.

These were lessons in detachment. Not detachment from the people I love. But detachment from my expectations of how they should show up, what they should be capable of, how their journey should unfold.

Because holding onto those expectations? It didn't help them. It didn't change their capacity or their reality. It just made me suffer while trying to force life into a shape it was never going to take.

What We Expect From the People We Love

And it's not just with illness or diagnosis or crisis. We do this in every relationship, every day.

We expect the people we love to show up for us in specific ways. To meet our needs in particular moments. To understand what we want without us having to explain it. To change when we need them to. To have capacity that matches our needs instead of capacity that matches their reality.

We expect our partners to instinctively know when we're struggling and provide exactly the kind of support we need. Then they don't, because they're not mind readers, and we're hurt.

We expect our parents to finally understand us, to validate our experience, to become who we needed them to be twenty years ago. They don't, because they're still who they've always been, and we're disappointed.

We expect our friends to be available when we need them, to prioritize the relationship the way we do, to show up the way we would show up for them. They don't, sometimes, because they have their own lives and their own limits, and we feel abandoned.

But here's what's actually happening: we're creating a contract in our minds about how people should behave. Then we're holding them accountable to terms they never agreed to.

We expect them to text back quickly. We expect them to remember what's important to us. We expect them to offer support in our preferred language. We expect them to change behaviors that bother us. We expect them to have capacity that aligns with our needs.

And when they don't meet these unspoken expectations, we make them wrong. We decide they don't care enough. They're not trying hard enough. They're failing us.

But what if they're not failing at all? What if they're just being human beings with limitations, struggles, and capacity that doesn't always match what we need from them?

The Shift: Detachment From Expectations, Not From People

Here's where we need to be really clear about something: releasing expectations doesn't mean we stop caring about people. It doesn't mean we accept mistreatment. It doesn't mean we stop having needs.

It means we detach from the expectation that reality should be different than it is. That people should be different than they are. That capacity should match needs just because we need it to.

This is a shift in mindset that frees our minds and our energy to sit in our own truth and find our own next right step.

When we're busy being angry that someone didn't meet an expectation, we're not present with reality. We're not asking "What do I actually need here?" We're stuck in "Why aren't they giving me what I want?"

When we release the expectation, we get our power back.

We can ask: Okay, this is their actual capacity. This is what they're actually capable of right now. Given that reality, what's my next right step?

Do I meet this need myself differently? Do I ask someone else who has capacity? Do I adjust my timeline? Do I accept that this need might not get met exactly how and when I want?

We move from demanding reality be different to working with reality as it is.

And paradoxically, that's where our actual power lives. Not in forcing people to meet expectations. But in choosing our response to reality instead of fighting with it.

The Practice of Releasing Expectations

So how do we actually do this? How do we release expectations we've been carrying so long they feel like part of our identity?

With ourselves:

Notice when the "should" voice shows up. "I should be able to handle this." "I shouldn't need help." "I should be further along."

Pause. Ask: Says who? Where did this expectation come from? Is it based on my actual capacity right now? Or is it based on some imagined version of me that doesn't exist?

Then ask a different question: "What do I actually have capacity for today?" Not what I think I should have capacity for. What's actually true right now, in this body, in this state, in this moment?

And then work with that truth instead of fighting it.

You're tired? Okay. What does tired actually need? Not what should tired be able to push through. What does it actually need?

You're overwhelmed? Okay. What would actually help? Not what should make this better. What would actually help right now?

You're struggling? Okay. What support would actually serve you? Not what you think you should be able to handle alone. What support would actually serve?

This is working with what is instead of fighting for what should be.

With others:

Notice when you're feeling disappointed. Not just the disappointment, but what expectation created it.

Ask: Did I communicate this expectation clearly? Did they agree to it? Is it based on who they actually are? Or who I want them to be? Is it based on their actual capacity? Or what I need their capacity to be?

Then get curious: What is their actual capacity in this moment? Not what I need it to be. What is it actually?

And then decide: Can I work with this reality? Can I find my next right step given what's actually true? Or am I going to stay stuck demanding that reality be different?

Sometimes the answer is: Yes, I can accept that they can't meet this need right now. I can meet it differently, ask someone else, or let it go unmet for now.

Sometimes the answer is: No, this pattern isn't serving me. I need to change how I engage with this relationship or whether I engage with it at all.

Both answers are valid. But both require releasing the expectation that people should be different than they are.

What Becomes Possible

When we stop living under the weight of impossible expectations—of ourselves and others—something remarkable shifts.

We stop being at war with reality. We stop making everyone (including ourselves) wrong all the time. We stop carrying the exhaustion of constant disappointment.

We start having actual relationships with actual people instead of with the versions of them that exist only in our minds.

We start building a life based on our actual capacity instead of our imagined capacity.

We start making choices from what is instead of what should be.

And weirdly, when we stop demanding that everyone (including ourselves) be different, that's when actual change becomes possible.

Because we can't grow while being constantly measured and found wanting. We can only grow when we're accepted as we are and supported in becoming more.

That's true for the people around us. And it's especially true for us.

When we release the expectation, we're not giving up. We're not lowering our standards. We're not settling for less.

We're just freeing our energy to work with what's actually true instead of fighting with what we wish was true.

And from that place of working with reality? That's where our next right step becomes clear. That's where our actual power lives.

The Grief Underneath

I'm not going to lie to you: releasing expectations requires grieving.

We have to grieve that we're not who we expected ourselves to be by now. That we're still struggling with things we thought we'd have figured out. That we have limits we wish we didn't have.

We have to grieve that the people we love aren't who we wanted them to be. That our parents didn't become the parents we needed. That our partners can't meet every need. That our children's lives might look completely different than the picture we carried of what their childhood should be.

We have to grieve the fantasy and accept the reality.

And that grief is real. It's not something to bypass or rush through or pretend doesn't exist.

We're allowed to feel sad that reality doesn't match our hopes. That's not the same as making reality wrong.

The sadness is just the space between what we wanted and what is. And that space needs to be felt and honored before we can fully release the expectation and find our peace.

This Is the Healing Frequency

Living in the Healing Frequency means working with what is instead of fighting for what should be.

It means recognizing that our expectations don't create other people's obligations or our own capacity.

It means detaching from the picture we drew in our minds and opening to the reality that's actually unfolding.

It means finding our own next right step based on what's true, not what we wish was true.

This isn't resignation. This isn't giving up. This isn't settling.

This is freedom. Freedom from the constant disappointment of reality not matching expectation. Freedom to work with what we actually have instead of mourning what we don't.

And from that freedom, from that grounded place of working with reality, we can actually build something sustainable. Something real. Something that doesn't require constant force and control to maintain.

An Invitation to Release the Weight

If you're exhausted from carrying impossible expectations, if you're ready to stop making yourself and everyone else wrong for being human, if you're ready to build a life based on what actually is instead of what should be, sometimes we need support in releasing what we've been carrying.

Reiki helps clear the energetic weight of expectations. The "shoulds" we carry in our bodies. The disappointment we hold in our tissues. The constant pressure we've internalized so deeply we don't know how to put it down.

During a session, we work with your energy field to release the rigidity, to create space for what is, to help your nervous system remember that you don't have to be perfect to be worthy and that other people don't have to meet all your needs to still be valuable in your life.

This holiday season, I'm offering the Healing Frequency Holiday Bundle—three Reiki sessions with $75 in savings, designed specifically for navigating the intensified expectations that come with this time of year.

Because the holidays amplify everything. The pressure to show up perfectly. The expectations around spending and giving. The family dynamics that highlight every unmet expectation. This bundle gives you consistent support through it all.

Explore the Healing Frequency Holiday Bundle

You'll leave feeling lighter. Not because your circumstances changed, but because you've released the weight of expecting them to be different than they are.

Because the life we're trying to build can't happen under the weight of impossible expectations.

It can only happen when we give ourselves and others permission to be human. To have limits. To disappoint sometimes. To be exactly who we are instead of who we think we should be.

The expectations will always try to creep back in. That voice will always whisper that we should be more, do more, be better, try harder.

But we don't have to listen. We can choose, again and again, to work with what is instead of fighting for what should be.

That's where peace lives. That's where actual growth happens. That's where real relationships exist.

Not in the fantasy of who everyone should be. But in the reality of who everyone actually is.

Including us.