Great Expectations

That book was such a disappointment to me when we finally got to it in Mr. Arnold's 9th Grade English class. I'd heard soooo much hype about it, and frankly, thought the characters were all a bunch of idiots. Especially Mrs. Haversham. Get over it already, I used to want to yell at her. Well, guess I still do. LOL. But I'm starting to recognize that expectations fill our lives, whether we acknowledge them or not, and drive our reactions and emotions.

I mean, they are everywhere. I had such great expectations when I bought that t-bone steak at the grocery store. I really did. And I cooked it last night. It wasn't that bad, once I trimmed the burned sections off of it. Although I really should have modified the amount of seasonings I marinated it in. I really should have. (Note to self: instructions on side of seasoning packet are for larger amounts of meat...adjust accordingly!) But my expectations weren't really disappointed. I enjoyed my first self-cooked piece of steak. Not bad, really. And my dog was thrilled last night. I think she almost peed herself when I dropped that bone in her bowl, she was so excited. LOL. Although I wasn't too popular when I refused to let her chew on it on my bed. A girl has got to draw a line somewhere!

And then there are the expectations that we have for ourselves, the people in our lives. Things we expect people to say and do, how to react. I've been thinking a lot about this lately. I've been disappointed in what used to be a very good friendship. Perhaps one of the best friendships of my adult life. Or that's simply what I've thought...I've been told before that my loyalty, once earned, is hard for someone to lose. But slowly over the past year or so, it's as if my eyes are opening. My friend hasn't been as supportive as I expected she'd be, especially when it came to the house I bought. I thought she'd be as thrilled as I was when she finally found her place. But she wasn't. I literally packed her up when she moved because she had the flu so bad that week. I cleaned her rental because she couldn't and she needed to be out of the place before another month's rent was due. I even helped move stuff in and unpack and organize several times at her new place.

Yet when I asked for some help moving to my new house, I got very little in return. She swore up and down and promised to help me rip all the carpets out (they were in nasty shape) before I moved in. She didn't. Oh, she came over a few hours that first evening, and the second evening only because I guilted her into. And boy, was she pissy about that. And stayed maybe an hour. At her first party in her new place, she got mad because I didn't help her clean and get ready as much as she wanted me to. She went to take a nap before the party started, and expected me to clean the floors while she was sleeping. When she woke up and I hadn't swept the floors, had instead chatted with other friends that were early arrivals, she was pissed. Yet when I had my housewarming, she didn't help clean or prep or anything. Didn't help run errands or go to the store to get stuff I'd forgotten, like she'd asked me to do. And which I'd done, because the store literally lies halfway between both of our houses, on the fastest most direct route between us.

And then there was this past week since my Grandmother's death. I called her that evening right after I found out, very close to falling apart on the phone, and left a message asking her to call me back. She didn't. My little sister's mom called that night (for some other reason), and could tell by my voice that something was wrong. She has since called & emailed me multiple times to make sure I'm okay, and that's on top of my little sister, who has called me as well.

Yet my friend, who I told the news to on Wednesday at work, and also told that I am having a very hard time dealing with this, has not called me once in the last week. Not. One. Single. Time. Not even to call me back after I called her Wednesday after work. This, the friend that over the past five years has called me practically every night. And heaven forbid there be a TV program on that I want to watch, because it's the ultimate affront to her, that I'd watch a show rather than talk to her. We literally spend hours on the phone talking to each other every week. But we haven't talked once since my Grandma died. Not even on Monday, when I mentioned that it had been a very rough weekend, with the funeral being Saturday, and my not going, etc. I really expected her to call me that night. But she didn't.

I am starting to think it's because I am a lot more sure of myself now than when we first met. I've taken control of my life. Bought a house, eating better, in control of my tomato addiction, worked off 25 lbs, exercising...I still want the friendship, but I'm starting to feel that unless I'm dependent on her friendship and her friendship alone for my happiness, she doesn't want to be friends with me. Maybe she needs to be able to feel superior to me? Above me in some way? I don't know. But she's made comments before about losing friends once they become spiritual equals with her. I've been thinking for awhile it's because she pushes them away.

She is a very demanding friend. I've known that. But at first, it seemed that I've gotten a good measure back from her in this friendship. Now I'm starting to wonder if I've been blind to it from the start. That this has always been such a one-sided friendship. Or maybe I expect too much. But is it too much to expect a friend to be there to give you a hug when you're crying over your dead grandparent? Even if the death was expected and is a relief in some ways? Inside there is still a five year old girl who loves her Grandma and knows she'll always be there.

I'm sorry. I didn't expect all this to come out. :) It started out in my mind as a light-hearted look at our daily expectations. I meant to end funnily, with stating that I'm going to start copying my dog's attitude. She has high expectations every day that some truly delicious bit of people food will drop into her bowl. And most days it doesn't. Yet she's always hopeful, always happy, always looking up at me thinking, "oh yeah, today I get that t-bone..." And whaddaya know. Last night she did. :)

Goodbye, Grandma.

ON this long storm the rainbow rose,
On this late morn the sun;
The clouds, like listless elephants,
Horizons straggled down.

The birds rose smiling in their nests,
The gales indeed were done;
Alas! how heedless were the eyes
On whom the summer shone!

The quiet nonchalance of death
No daybreak can bestir;
The slow archangel’s syllables
Must awaken her.

~Emily Dickinson