EXPECTATIONS.. We all have them...
I certainly do. I expect my friends and family to share some of my core values, like respect, care, and kindness. We expect our governments to “do the right thing”—to ensure access to basic needs such as healthcare, shelter, and the right to work.
Many of us expect our partners and parents to love us unconditionally. We expect our friends to be there when we need them. We expect ourselves to succeed at work or build a life for our families in some way.
These expectations fuel our drive to pursue desires in relationships and shape how we show up in the world.
I’m writing this while staying in a small co-living and intentional community in Lisbon. I’ve noticed moments of tension arise when any one of us—myself included—has unspoken expectations about how others "should" behave or contribute to the shared experience.
Some of us want more space and flexibility to do our own thing, while others crave routine and planned togetherness. Some people don’t express their needs, while others only realize them after the fact. Some say yes, then change their minds later. It's the perfect environment for frustration to brew.
I believe these unspoken expectations are often the source of that frustration. Each of us has a preferred way of being in the group, and when others don’t meet those unstated expectations, we become irritated.
I’ve come to see expectations as a way of trying to control or predict my reality, often without realizing it. When others don’t meet these expectations, I might blame them or subtly pressure them to align with my wishes.
Ironically, this usually pushes me further away from what I want. When I seek togetherness, I end up feeling more alone. When I want space, I feel more trapped by its absence. This dynamic plays out in so many types of relationships—romantic, familial, work-related—and even as an inner conflict with myself.
Here are a couple of perspectives that illustrate this:
Perspective A:“I want to be flexible in this group and decide at the last minute whether to participate in check-ins or activities based on how I feel at the time.” (But I don’t clearly communicate this or check in with others, I just do my own thing.)When others express frustration about the lack of predictability or the desire for a set plan, I get annoyed. Now, I’m pulled into more connections than I want, which takes me further away from what I actually needed—space and freedom of choice.
Perspective B:“I want the group to have a consistent structure so we can spend more time together and plan accordingly.” (But I don’t clearly own this desire or check if others want the same thing, and I get upset when the group doesn’t align with my wishes.)When others who value flexibility resist my plans, I grow more frustrated. That frustration creates distance, taking me further from what I’m truly longing for—closeness and connection.
This is, in a way, the tragedy of human conflict. As Marshall Rosenberg’s Nonviolent Communication (NVC) philosophy points out:
"It's never the conflict of needs that causes the conflict. It's the strategies for meeting needs where the conflict arises."
This reveals that we care deeply about getting our needs met together in relationships, and because of that, we become passionate about what we believe is the "best" way to do so.
Perspective A:
What I care for: In this case, I care about the group because I know that if I overextend myself, I’ll grow resentful. By prioritizing self-care, I can fully show up when I do have space, contributing to group harmony, respect, and flow.
What I lose: By being attached to last-minute decisions, I miss out on deepening trust and connection with the group. I could find a way to maintain flexibility while considering the group’s needs too.
Perspective B:
What I care for: I care about the group because I worry that if we all do our own thing, we’ll lose our connection. I want us to matter to each other, and by creating daily touchpoints, I’m fostering group harmony and building trust through regular closeness.
What I lose: When I’m attached to daily meetings or the expectation that others will share my rhythm, I lose my openness to alternative solutions. I miss out on the trust and closeness that comes when I allow space for others' needs and preferences, even if they differ from mine.
When I cling to last-minute decisions or insist on daily meetings, we’re in trouble. We lose sight of each other’s desires and miss the creative solutions that could serve both needs. It’s a common dynamic I see regularly in relationships, especially with couples.
But if I hold both our intentions as sacred—seeing them as beautiful desires meant to move us toward life—my perspective widens. From this expanded view, many wonderful solutions that serve everyone can emerge.
So, I leave you (and myself) with these questions:
Think about a recent conflict or tension between you and someone else:
What outcomes are you attached to, and what are you caring for?
What outcomes might the other person be attached to, and what do you imagine they’re caring for?
Reflecting on these questions, what comes up for you? Do you find yourself judging their needs and desires? Does something shift?
I don’t expect you to have a specific revelation—these questions might even cause frustration. But whatever they reveal to you is valuable data, pointing toward what you care about and what you want to contribute to the connection, even if it’s not happening for you right now.
Let me know your thoughts—I’d love to hear them.
If after reading this post you feel inspired to join me on our next foundations and intermediate courses where we will explore how conflict can be an opportunity for connection through expressing yourself with clarity and honesty, we will be using the models of Nonviolent Communication and Authentic Relating to support us on that journey of exploring aliveness and closeness in relationships. Check out our upcoming event HERE
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