Maybe You're Not Broken. Maybe Your Expectations Are.

Maybe You're Not Broken. Maybe Your Expectations Are.

Lately, I've realized something that has changed the way I think about emotional health.

It's shown up in my own life.

It's shown up in my therapy office.

It's shown up in conversations with friends.

And once I saw it, I couldn't unsee it.

People aren't just struggling.

They're struggling because they believe they shouldn't be.

And that has made me wonder...

What if the expectations—not the people—are the problem?

Somewhere along the way, we've inherited a set of invisible rules about what it means to be emotionally healthy.

Get married.

Adjust quickly.

Have a baby.

Bounce back.

Lose someone you love.

Take a few days.

Move on.

Experience trauma.

Put it behind you.

Feel anxious?

Fix it.

Feel sad?

Cheer up.

Marriage feels difficult?

Maybe you married the wrong person.

The messages are everywhere.

They're so woven into our culture that we rarely stop to question them.

Instead...

we question ourselves.

Who decided grief should have a timeline?

Who decided mothers should feel like themselves again after six weeks?

Who decided healing should be linear?

Who decided marriages should feel effortless?

Who decided people should simply "move on" after trauma?

Who decided living with a chronic illness should only make us feel grateful and never disappointed?

Most importantly...

Why did we believe them?

As a therapist, I hear the same question in hundreds of different forms.

"What's wrong with me?"

Why can't I get over this?

Why am I still struggling?

Why is this still affecting me?

Why can't I just move on?

But almost no one asks,

"What have I been expecting of myself?"

Maybe we've been questioning the wrong thing.

Maybe the expectations deserve to be questioned more than we do.

Take motherhood.

A woman spends nine months growing another human being. Her body changes. Her hormones change. Her identity changes. Her relationships change. Her responsibilities multiply overnight.

Yet somehow, we expect her to recover in six weeks.

When she feels exhausted, overwhelmed, emotional, or unlike herself...

we wonder what's wrong with her.

Maybe nothing is wrong with her.

Maybe the expectation is.

Grief is another example.

We surround people with support after a loss. We attend the funeral. We sit shiva. We bring meals.

Then life moves on.

They're expected to return to work, answer emails, make dinner, and function as though their world hasn't permanently changed.

When grief resurfaces months—or even years—later, we assume it has lasted too long.

Maybe nothing is wrong with the grief.

Maybe the expectation is.

Marriage gives us another example.

We expect two people with different histories, personalities, attachment styles, and ways of communicating to instinctively know how to build a deeply connected relationship.

Then, when conflict happens or connection fades, we assume something must be wrong.

One of the core messages in Emily Nagoski's work on relationships and physical intimacy is beautifully simple:

You're normal.

She explains that so many people quietly wonder whether something is wrong with them because their relationship doesn't look like the version they've absorbed from Hollywood, social media, or the stories they hear from others.

But when real life doesn't match the script...

we don't question the script.

We question ourselves.

Maybe nothing is wrong with the relationship.

Maybe the expectation is.

Social media only magnifies this.

We compare our ordinary lives to everyone else's highlight reel.

Our tired parenting to someone else's smiling family photos.

Our ordinary marriage to someone else's anniversary post.

Our healing to someone else's victory story.

Our behind-the-scenes to everyone else's highlight reel.

And then we wonder why we don't measure up.

The truth is...

we were never comparing ourselves to reality.

As I've continued doing this work—with my clients and within myself—I've become convinced of something.

People don't need less emotion.

They don't need to "just get over it."

They don't need to become tougher.

They need healthier expectations.

I've also come to realize that some of the most meaningful moments in therapy don't happen because someone suddenly changes.

They happen because, for the first time, someone realizes they aren't failing.

They're simply human.

Because expectations shape the questions we ask ourselves.

If my expectation is that I should already be over it...

I'll ask,

"What's wrong with me?"

But if my expectation changes...

I might instead ask,

"Of course this is hard. What do I need right now?"

That question changes everything.

Healing doesn't begin when we finally stop struggling.

It begins when we stop treating our humanity as a problem to solve.

We don't expect a broken bone to heal in a week.

We don't yell at a tree because it didn't grow fruit in the winter.

Yet somehow we expect the human heart to recover from loss, disappointment, illness, trauma, and change on a schedule.

Maybe healing was never meant to be rushed.

Maybe it was meant to be honored.

If this blog resonated with you, perhaps you've spent far too long asking yourself the wrong question.

Instead of asking,

"What's wrong with me?"

maybe it's time to begin asking,

"What have I been expecting of myself?"

That shift may seem small, but it has the power to change the way you relate to yourself, your emotions, and your life.

As a therapist, this is the work I love most.

Helping people untangle the unrealistic expectations they've carried for years.

Helping them make room for grief without shame.

Helping them approach anxiety with curiosity instead of criticism.

Helping couples stop believing something is wrong with their relationship simply because it's hard.

Helping people discover that they were never broken—they were simply trying to meet impossible standards.

If you recognize yourself in these words, you don't have to navigate that journey alone.

Whether you're struggling with anxiety, grief, trauma, relationship challenges, life transitions, chronic illness, or simply feeling like you've lost yourself, I'd be honored to walk alongside you.

Healing doesn't begin when you become someone different.

It begins when you finally allow yourself to be fully, imperfectly, beautifully human.

Because maybe the most healing words you could hear today are these:

There is nothing wrong with your humanity.

Maybe the expectations—not you—are what need to change.