Hello and welcome back!
Over the last few months, I’ve tried a lot of new things. I’ve created a lot of new things. And I’ve been putting myself out there in ways that, a couple of years ago, I wouldn’t have imagined.
I’m knocking on doors I never thought I’d knock on. And while a lot of that has felt exciting...it has also felt downright scary at times.
Tell me if you’ve ever experienced something similar: You have an idea. You decide to go for it. Maybe you submit the application, send the email, share the thing, or finally take a chance on something you really want. And then suddenly, a part of you starts to question it all.
What started as genuine excitement starts getting crowded by self-doubt, all in the name of ‘being realistic.’
I probably won’t get it anyway.
I’m not expecting anything.
Or sometimes the questioning happens so quickly that we talk ourselves out of trying at all.
I’ve caught myself doing this lately, and I started wondering...what am I actually trying to accomplish? Because it almost feels like I’m trying to soften the landing before I even know there’s going to be one.
And I understand the impulse.
Hope can make us feel vulnerable. The more we let ourselves want something, the more there can seem to be at stake if it doesn’t happen. So, tempering our expectations can feel like a way to protect ourselves from disappointment.
Maybe we’ve felt excited about something before and it didn’t work out the way we hoped, leaving us feeling hurt. Maybe we’ve been told not to “get our hopes up.” Or maybe expecting less has simply become a familiar way of feeling a little more in control.
But when did being realistic start to mean only imagining the disappointing outcome?
Because if I genuinely don’t know what’s going to happen, then disappointment is only one possibility. Something working out is another.
So, I’ve been asking myself: what actually happens if I let myself feel excited? What happens if I imagine the email saying yes? If I picture myself stepping into the opportunity? If I let myself enjoy the possibility while it’s still a possibility?
Of course, I might still be disappointed. Hope doesn’t protect me from that.
And yes, disappointment can hurt, especially when we start attaching stories to it about our worth, our abilities, or what the outcome supposedly says about us. But dampening my excitement beforehand doesn’t guarantee that disappointment will hurt less. It just means I may have spent all that time worrying instead of allowing myself to enjoy something that felt meaningful to hope for.
I’m still learning how to feel safe letting myself hope without knowing how something will turn out. And one thing that’s helped is building more trust in myself. I know that if something doesn’t turn out the way I hoped, I’ll probably feel disappointed. Maybe sad. Maybe frustrated or discouraged. But I also trust that I can move through those feelings when they come. I don’t need to feel them in advance in order to be ready for them.
And there may actually be something supportive about letting ourselves expect some good along the way. Research on optimism and hope has linked them with things like more engaged coping, healthier behaviours, and better well-being. That doesn’t mean expecting a good outcome makes it happen. But it does suggest that the way we relate to possibility can shape how we move through our lives.
Here are a few things I’ve been finding helpful in practicing this:
Notice when I’m shrinking the possibility: When I hear myself saying, “I probably won’t get it anyway,” I try to notice what I’m doing. Am I being realistic...or am I trying to protect myself from wanting it?
Let myself be excited before I know the outcome: Excitement doesn’t have to be a prediction. I can enjoy wanting something without turning that hope into a guarantee.
Make room for more than one possibility: If my mind is going to imagine what happens if it doesn’t work out, I can give some space to imagining what happens if it does.
Trust myself with disappointment too: Maybe this is the biggest one. I don’t have to emotionally rehearse the disappointment in order to be ready for it. If it comes, I can meet it then.
I’m still going to feel nervous when I put myself out there. I’m still going to have moments when my brain starts preparing the speech about why it probably won’t happen. But I’m trying not to dull the hope just so I feel more prepared for disappointment.
If something matters to me, I want to let myself care. I want to feel some excitement while the answer is still unknown. And when I catch myself trying to pull that excitement back in the name of being “realistic,” I’m going to remind myself that good things are realistic too.
I don’t know what’s going to happen with all the doors I’ve been knocking on lately. But some of them might open.
And I’m willing to let myself hope that they will.
With heartfelt gratitude,
Christina
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