Several years ago, I told a trusted friend how sad and disappointed I was that a friend hadn’t acknowledged my birthday or done anything special for me.
That friend asked gently, “Are there any other people that didn’t acknowledge your birthday?”
I thought and said something like, “Well, my mother, my husband, and my children all did, so no.”
She said, “Oh, really? You just listed four people. Weren’t there billions of other people who didn’t wish you a happy birthday?”
“Well yeah,” I said, confused. “But I don’t expect them to.”
“Exactly,” she said.
“You don’t expect them to acknowledge your birthday, so you don’t resent them for not celebrating it. If you didn’t expect this friend to make your birthday special, you’d feel fine. Expectations are a pre-meditated resentment.”
What? This was a revelation to me then, and in some ways, it still is. I apply this teaching to all special occasions, including Valentine’s Day.
In childhood, I remember routinely feeling sad and lonely on Valentine’s Day. Kids at school often wouldn’t give me valentines unless their parents made them bring one for every single kid in the class, and that, of course, didn’t count. My first boyfriend wasn’t until college, so that kind of Valentine wasn’t going to happen. But even the over-the-top friend version just didn’t seem to be in the cards for me.
Even though I’ve had a steady date for Valentine’s Day for decades, it’s still a set-up if I have some idea of a magical Valentine’s experience that doesn’t manifest. That’s why the past many years, I’ve switched from expecting to asking.
“Where shall we get reservations and a reminder that I’d like flowers on Valentine’s Day” goes a long way.
As is often the case, Sara shares a useful thought to consider as we enter Valentine’s week. I would like to share my own lightbulb moment when I recognized how “expectations are a pre-meditated resentment.” When I first met my husband, he was a single dad with a creative, fairy-like daughter. On our first shared Valentine’s Day, he came home with a grocery store bunch of flowers for me and a shiny helium balloon declaring “Happy valentine’s day to a special girl” for his daughter. I was “deeply” disappointed in what I projected to be a last-minute stop and underperformance by my partner. However, his daughter was overjoyed, fully embracing the wonderful gift her father had brought her. I was also disappointed that there were no dinner reservations, being new to the realities of acquiring child care during peak holiday times. instead, we had a family-style dinner with the Valentine balloon bobbing back and forth across the table from where it was tethered. I helped his daughter make handmade Valentine pictures, which we folded in half to make “cards.” we had a marvelous time.
viewing the holiday through a four-year-old’s eyes helped me see where my expectations were only bringing me sadness and resentment. Nearly forty years on, we still celebrate Valentine’s Day family style at home with whoever of the kids is around and in whatever fashion that presents itself. This year, I bought long-stem roses over the weekend for the vase in my dining room, along with a few ingredients for a special meal. My husband and son, not big planners, will decide on the rest.