~~Merry Christmas crew,~~ Take 1… 2:30 am · Take 2… day 2… 2:09 pm · Take 3… day 3… 6:33 am · WEEKS LATER… **Fade in:** **Int. Home –** P lies in bed. Her phone above her face as she types. A toddler sleeps beside her. Suddenly, she stops typing and stares blankly into the phone's screen. P lets the phone fall gently to the side of her pillow and stares into the dark. --- I originally started this entry and had to come back to it to figure out what I actually wanted to say. I've written about expectations before, and I wanted this one to be different. I expected that having so many expectations of myself would make this entry easy — but it wasn't. So, here I am, coming back to give it another try. As 2025 came to a close, I thought of all my expectations and the countless misses that I fell short on… And since we're getting personal, I figured I'd share. I expected that as an ex-athlete turned mother, returning to working out would be easy. I've done it my whole life. I expected that posting consistently on my blog would last at least a few months. I expected that I'd have made my second short film in 2025, or at the very least created about 200% more creative content. I expected that I wouldn't let myself get overstimulated by the repetitive sound of a spinning garbage truck with Ms. Rachel playing over it in the background… but we've all got our tipping point. And honestly, the list goes on. I've had plenty of expectations over the past year that didn't turn out the way I imagined. Having expectations of yourself can be hard — especially when you feel like you're failing, or at least not winning or succeeding in the way you thought you would. It's funny to think about how many expectations we carry across all the different areas of our lives, and how used to them we become. They turn automatic. Subconscious. Falling short of your own expectations can be a hard pill to swallow, especially when it's something you fall short on repeatedly. Setting expectations can push us. They can guide us. They can also hinder us. So what do you do next? Is your response to quit, or to figure out how to recover? I like to think of myself as someone with a growth mindset. Someone who can return to the drawing board to adjust and re-plan a way forward. And I believe that's true. But alongside that mindset, there's also a kind of mental lock. A hesitation. While I'm able to re-plan and adjust in many ways, I've noticed I'm more careful now about letting myself get ahead of reality, and not putting all of my eggs into one basket. A real-time example: I recently came up with an idea for a TV show. (Hooray! Exciting. Right?) The first two or three people I shared it with did not share my excitement, which was not at all what I expected. I knew in my head that these people would want to be a part of this. This is it. Something new, relevant, fun! But that wasn't the response that I received. My hesitation started to show up in real ways. After their responses or lack thereof, I let the idea sit for a few weeks. I knew I wasn't going to give it up, but I didn't know where to turn next. I gave myself time to recoup, reimagine, and eventually find someone else who might give it a shot. And I did. Another producer — someone other than myself — expressed interest in the project. Exactly what I wanted. And yet, I felt a small pit in my stomach. Like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. So here I am. Somewhere in the middle. Still trying, fixing, and re-planning. Looking for growth, while also carrying an instinct to protect myself from the possibility of disappointment — even when it isn't in sight. Maybe this is what growth in my 30s looks like. Seasoned by experience, both good and bad. By achieving and falling short. Learning how to move forward without overextending hope, while still having faith in myself to keep going. Staying in the process. Believing anyway. That feels like a win of its own.