Some of my earliest memories of expectations were centered around dates. Even though I did not like being the center of attention, I still did enjoy my birthdays. And who could forget the anticipation of waiting for Christmas morning? Later came the expectation of getting my learner’s permit on my 16th birthday, ushering in a new age of independence and growth.
Back then, my expectations were centered around toys and new opportunities. Today I find my wishful thinking revolves not around taking my life to a whole new level, but rather getting my life back to where it once was. When your livelihood has been stolen from you, it is all but impossible to not strive to recapture it.
All throughout my journey to recovery, I have found myself resetting expectations. Each new medical appointment brought hope that I would finally discover what was wrong with me. Every new prescription again reset expectations, believing that this latest addition to my medicine cabinet would bring back normalcy. And while each reset did change my perspective, it also decreased my hope. You can only play this game for so long before the pessimist overpowers your thought process.
This is the reason why I have not established any expectations since I started chelating. What’s the point of only being let down once again? I still have an expectation that I will one day get better—it’s what has kept me going for the last two-years—but resetting my expectations around yet another treatment protocol? I don’t think so. I would much rather be surprised by my newfound regains in health than let down about another failed attempt.