Expectation is a force both powerful and paradoxical. It drives us forward, setting standards, creating a vision of what should be. It is the foundation of excellence—the reason we demand quality, the reason we strive for more, the reason society progresses. We expect honesty in relationships, efficiency in services, integrity in leadership, competence in education, and without those expectations, we would be surrounded by mediocrity. If no one expected better, nothing would improve. If no one demanded more, the world would remain stagnant. Expectation is what makes a civilisation function. It is what compels a doctor to give their best care, a teacher to inspire rather than instruct, a chef to create art rather than serve sustenance. Expectation sets the bar. Without it, there would be no accountability, no drive, no refinement of skill or thought. So why is it that expectation also burdens us? Why does it feel like a weight we carry, rather than a force that propels us forward?

Perhaps the problem is not expectation itself, but misplaced expectation—the kind that is not rooted in vision, but in pressure. The kind that does not inspire, but suffocates. The kind that is not about demanding greatness from the world, but about demanding perfection from ourselves. We grow up carrying expectations like invisible scripts. What we should achieve by a certain age. What success should look like. What happiness should feel like. We measure ourselves against timelines that were written before we ever had the chance to question them. Graduate by this age. Marry by this time. Have children, build a career, buy a house, fit into a version of life that is pre-approved, pre-packaged, predefined. And when life does not unfold according to this invisible contract, we feel like we have failed. But failed at what? A timeline that was never truly ours? A path that was built on someone else’s idea of what life should be?

Expectation becomes a burden when it stops being about setting high standards for the world and starts being about living up to an external version of who we are supposed to be. When it tells us that we are falling behind rather than reminding us of what we are capable of. When it becomes a measure of worth rather than a guide for growth. We need expectations in the same way we need structure, in the same way we need gravity—something to anchor us, something to pull us upward, something that keeps the world from descending into chaos. But when expectations stop serving us, when they start dictating instead of guiding, then they cease to be a force of elevation and instead become a cage.

How many people live their lives trying to meet expectations that were never truly theirs? The child who becomes a lawyer because their parents expected it, though their heart belongs to art. The woman who gets married because it was the next “logical step,” though she never questioned if marriage was what she truly wanted. The man who stays in a career that drains him because walking away would be seen as failure. How much of our suffering comes from the pressure to be what we think we should be rather than the freedom to discover what we truly are?

Expectation is not the enemy, but unconscious expectation is. The kind that demands conformity rather than greatness. The kind that tells us we must be someone rather than allowing us to become someone. We should expect high standards from the world. We should demand integrity, excellence, accountability. But from ourselves? Perhaps what we need is not rigid expectation, but clarity. Not a script, but a vision. Not pressure, but purpose.

So what if, instead of asking, “What should I have achieved by now?” we asked, “What feels true to me?” What if, instead of measuring ourselves against where we think we should be, we trusted the unfolding of where we are meant to be? What if, instead of carrying expectation like a weight, we wore it like a compass—guiding, but never restricting?

Because life does not move in straight lines. It moves in spirals, in detours, in unexpected arrivals. The greatest things often come not when we expect them, but when we are open to them. And perhaps the highest expectation we should hold is not about where we should be, but about who we should be—authentic, present, awake to the life that is happening now, not just the life we thought we were supposed to live.

So, hold expectations for the world. Expect greatness, expect quality, expect integrity. But for yourself? Expect growth. Expect change. Expect the unexpected. Because sometimes, the most beautiful life is the one that does not fit the blueprint at all. 🤍✨