Expectations – Reality = Suffering^2

I’m not a Buddhist, but my long time therapist is, and she has explained to me (multiple times) the concept that when we feel suffering, it’s because the reality of a situation does not match the expectations with which we enter the situation.

I must continuously stare at her dumbly, so she illustrates it thusly: she holds a pen about 12 inches above the surface of a table and says, “Boy, I sure hope this pen stays where it is when I let go,” as she loosens her grasp and it drops. Dead. Down.

I present to you: gravity.

She explains, “The reality is, the pen is going to drop. There are basic laws of our universe that we cannot change, no matter how hard we want, try or expect it to.”

Then she usually launches into how this parallels my relationship with my mother, or my former stepfather, or how I get all torqued up when slow people drive in the fast lane or wait until the cashier has totally rung up their purchase…and THEN they begin to dig around in their purse for their checkbook at the grocery store.

I expected my mom to love and support me no matter what. I expected my former stepdad to not cut me off financially, given that he’d raised me and adopted me. I expect people to know the rules of the damn highway and use the left lane only to pass, not to putter. And so forth. I mean, if it takes the cashier 5 minutes to ring up your groceries, that’s five good minutes you could have been using to get that check almost completely filled out.

And the reality is different. My mom wanted a miniature version of her, with all the same dreams, values and desires. Instead she got a Democratic tomboy who would rather ride a horse than shop for linens. We both suffer, because we both had different expectations of the relational experience, that just flat don’t match the reality. Not sure the suffering is always reciprocated, however – my stepdad never looked back in my general (broke) direction, and the guy in the fast lane and the lady taking her sweet time to write her check are oblivious to my “suffering.”

Suffering, by the way, is angst, frustration, impatience, disappointment, etc. Negative feelings, regardless how “small,” that arise in response to how we think things should be. Any time you gnash your teeth, that’s suffering.

We can avert some of this suffering – it’s easy. All you have to do is meditate nine hours a day and achieve enlightened Nirvana. OR you can realize/understand/learn that there are going to be certain realities involved with certain situations, and alter expectations accordingly.

For example, yesterday I was skiing, and was waiting in line to rent my gear. There was a woman in line ahead of me with a handful of kids in various sizes, all firmly planted on differing levels of the Whining Meltdown Continuum. A lovely, gentle, powder-collecting snow was falling outside. I couldn’t wait to get my ski tips in there.

I overheard her say to the overworked (and yet quite kind and respectful) clerk, “It is snowing outside and this is not okay.” He started to chuckle and shrug, but glanced up and, noticing she’d pulled her TMF (total mom face), embraced silence.

“I’m serious,” she snapped, “my kids are cold and miserable and someone needs to do something about this.”

He blinked, but set down his pen and raised his hands up in an abracadabra/Thiller dance motion towards the outside. Then he squinched his eyes tight and made a guttural, electric humming noise in his throat while he wiggled his fingers jazz-hands style. I bit hard on my lip to choke back a guffaw.

He opened his eyes and looked out the window. “Did that work?” he grinned.

She was breathing fire. The kids were full-on wailing by now. All I could think was, “It’s a ski resort, you ninny, what did you expect?!?”

And just as that last word popped into my head I had a therapeutic a-HA! moment and giggled (inwardly…didn’t want Dragon Lady on MY case, too).

The reality of a mountain ski area in January is snow…usually more than less. She expected some kind of ski fantasy for her kids, with matching mittens and coordinating ski outfits and Christmas card-esque photo ops in a warm, sun-filled setting with perfect light and snowy (but not cold) backdrop. Her reality was wet feet, cold hands, runny noses and screeching.

I present to you: suffering.

But, come on. If you’re gonna be mad at snow…don’t go skiing.