I remember being afraid of failing to get better. What I think is interesting about the memory is that it wasn’t so much a fear of not getting better but a fear of failing - failing to get better.
From the beginning, my recovery surpassed expectations - my healing and commitment to the process was widely praised. The pressure to get better was on - I was expected to continue this unusually fast recovery or else I would fail the people around me. It’s important to note that absolutely nobody intentionally put that pressure on me - I received the perfunctory better health encouragements - that I’d be “better in no time” or “back to my old self”, and I’m sure they were not intended to make anything more stressful, but I felt the stress of expectations. It was my job - or even my duty - to heal and make these motivational comments reality.
Simultaneously, the mediocrity of the tasks that got praise was frustrating - looking back I recognize that the mental repairs and adaptations my brain was making were remarkable, but at the time if felt like mocking praise. I remember questioning, “Is this all I can do now? This is what’s getting applause? I used to do really great things! Now I’m reduced to…eating with a spoon on my own…working through elementary math calculations…putting one foot in front of the other. Why are my ‘great achievements’ so damnably trite.” Reflecting on this attitude from the present time, I feel those thoughts were somewhat pretentious - many survivors have difficulty with such tasks, yet I was able to do all these relatively quickly. That is amazing, and I know that now. Fortune or the Fates or Love (see a previous entry) or what have you allowed me to move ahead in my recovery, yet still I cursed the praise while urning for more. This is a part of recovery that many survivors may not experience, or maybe people do feel the same thing or some variation of this. Please share below (comments).
What ever the case, I pushed my body - insisted that I would not accept what I was “supposed to do” as an applaudable accomplishment. I had a job - to recover - and damnit, I was going to do it, whatever that meant. Do I think it was good to have this attitude? I really don’t know. It might have convinced my mind and body to heal, but I know it brought out a lot of self-anger. A truth of me is that I’m never fully happy where I am - always want more of myself and more recognition. That truth was present as I recovered, and it may have pushed me to do more than I was expected to do. Again, please share your thoughts on this.
The other side of this situation is that I’ve often heard that happiness if found by being at peace with where you are. Being at peace with who you are. Happiness is striving to achieve what is possible, but finding contentment wherever that takes you. My discontent brought a lot of pain to myself and those around me. It was only because I am fortunate to be surrounded by such love that most of these relationships have remained.
Were my self-expectations good for my recovery or bad for my social interactions? Were they both? How? I would appreciate your thoughts on the topic - share some of your own stories about your own self-expectations.
Hi Lethan - I like this reflection on expectations for recovery; what impresses me is that despite your early limitations (re-learning to eat and do basic math) you retained your ability for self-reflection and motivation. I suspect the brain structures related to setting goals and self-evaluation were damaged and these functions also had to experience recovery (moving you from more of an immature to a mature ability to assess goals and accomplishments). Fascinating story you have!
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