Let’s talk about it.
I need to be honest. I struggle every day with the burden of expectation.
It’s not a poetic opener or a neatly packaged insight—it’s just the truth. I carry the weight of what people think I can do, what they believe I should do, and the bar I’ve helped set. Some of those expectations I’ve chosen. Many I haven’t. And even when I meet them, the load doesn’t get lighter—it just shifts shape.
So this post isn’t a guide. It’s not a five-step fix or a leadership pep talk.
It’s a conversation.
Because if I feel this, chances are you do too. Whether you’re someone others rely on, someone stepping into something new, or someone just trying to hold it all together—you know that weight. The constant pressure to prove, to perform, to live up to something, even if no one has clearly said what that “something” is.
I’m not here to say I’ve nailed it. Far from it. But I am here to say: we should talk about it more. We should build environments where expectation isn’t a quiet burden people carry alone—but something we learn to hold responsibly, together.
If there’s a goal behind this post, it’s this:
- Let’s stop placing unreasonable expectations on others.
- Let’s start noticing the ones we place on ourselves.
- And let’s give each other the space to breathe, grow, and recalibrate.
So let’s talk it through. You and me. No polished answers—just the courage to name the weight, and maybe lighten it, a little.
The Weight of What’s Said (Explicit Expectation)
Some expectations are clear. They’re written in job descriptions, spoken in meetings, written between the lines of promotions and projects.
“You’re the safe pair of hands.”
“You’re the go-to.”
“You’ve got this, right?”
These aren’t always bad things to hear. Sometimes, they’re said with genuine respect. But even respect can feel heavy when it comes without limits or support.
The problem with explicit expectations is they often come with no off-switch. Once someone believes you can carry more, they tend to forget to ask if you should. Or if you want to. Or if you’re already full.
But it’s not just formal settings where this happens.
We often say things in passing that carry more pressure than we realise:
- “Oh, I thought you’d have done that by now.”
- “You always handle this kind of thing.”
- “You’re so good at juggling everything!”
These are often intended as compliments, or observations. But they come with weight. They carry expectations—sometimes about timelines, emotional labour, availability, or performance—that the other person never signed up for.
The truth is, our casual words can feel like commands when they come from someone who’s trusted, admired, or relied on. So it’s worth asking:
“Am I unknowingly assigning responsibility or reinforcing pressure through what I’m saying?”
Because even when it sounds like encouragement, it might land like obligation.
The Weight of What’s Meant (Implicit Expectation)
Not all expectations are spoken clearly. In fact, the most exhausting ones often aren’t.
They show up as glances, half-sentences, or offhand remarks that carry more weight than the words themselves.
Take this one:
“I see you didn’t get a chance to tidy up.”
It’s not a direct request. It’s not even a clear criticism.
But the message lands hard—especially if you weren’t told there was an expectation in the first place.
That one line implies:
- You were expected to.
- You didn’t.
- And now, someone is quietly disappointed in you.
But it was never agreed. Never discussed. Never shared.
It’s an invisible expectation, delivered through implication.
And it often hits harder than saying the thing outright, because it leaves the recipient unsure, ashamed, and scrambling to work out where they went wrong.
It can feel like this:
“Last time I was here you said you might try cooking more—I’d hoped you’d have something ready this time.”
Suddenly, the expectation has a history.
It becomes a narrative of failure that you didn’t even know you were a character in.
This is the harm of unspoken standards:
They feel like tests you didn’t know you were taking, with pass/fail judgments waiting quietly behind polite smiles.
Before we speak, especially in relationships or shared spaces, we might ask ourselves:
“Am I making a judgment about something I had no clear right to expect?”
Because even if the words are soft, the weight they carry might not be.
The Expectation We Imagine (Self-Imposed)
This one’s the trickiest. Because it feels real.
We set standards for ourselves not based on what others actually said, but on what we think they believe.
Or worse—what we believe they should believe about someone like us.
So we aim higher, push harder, stay later.
Not because anyone asked us to.
But because we told ourselves they would have, if they’d thought to.
This is the quiet, constant performance.
The pressure to be better—not because it’s needed, but because we can’t bear the thought of not being enough.
It’s unsustainable. But it’s also common.
And most people carrying this kind of expectation?
They don’t even realise they’ve picked it up.
They keep plussing—adding more, stretching further, raising the bar just a little higher each time. The burden doesn’t go away; it just changes shape. A quiet, self-imposed loop where they never quite meet their own evolving standard. And because they’re the ones setting it, there’s no finish line—just a moving target of imagined adequacy.
When Expectation is Growth-Focused
Not all expectation is toxic. In fact, when it’s shared and understood, expectation can be one of the most powerful tools for growth.
This kind of expectation shows up in clear conversations and mutual agreements—personally between people who trust each other, and professionally through objectives, feedback, and agreed standards of behaviour.
In these moments, expectations don’t confine—they create direction. They can stretch us in meaningful, motivating ways:
- A mentor believing in our next step before we do.
- A friend calling us into better habits.
- A team that sees our potential and makes space for it.
Growth-based expectations don’t suffocate.
They support. They’re spoken. They’re mutual. They come with context and consent.
The difference is simple:
Toxic expectation assumes. Growth-based expectation invites.
Not all expectation is toxic.
In the right conditions, it can stretch us in meaningful ways:
- A mentor believing in our next step before we do.
- A friend calling us into better habits.
- A team that sees our potential and makes space for it.
Growth-based expectations don’t suffocate.
They support. They’re spoken. They’re mutual.
The difference is simple:
Toxic expectation assumes. Growth-based expectation invites.
When Expectation Turns Toxic (The Sisyphean Task)
Then there are expectations we can’t meet.
No matter what we do. No matter how hard we try.
They change shape as soon as we get close.
We roll the boulder up the hill, only to watch it slide back down.
This is the Sisyphean burden—unreasonable, unrelenting, and often unspoken.
- You deliver something great—but next time, that’s just the baseline.
- You set a boundary—but you’re met with silence or disapproval.
- You improve—but someone keeps remembering your last mistake.
These are the expectations that wear people down.
Not because they’re hard, but because they’re impossible.
And worst of all? We start to believe the failure is ours.
But here’s the thing: we can stop. Not all at once—but in moments. We can start to notice when the bar keeps moving. We can ask, gently, whether the standard is still serving anyone. We can speak aloud the expectations that feel crushing—and give others permission to do the same.
Because change doesn’t come from doing more. It comes from calling out the cycle. From naming the boulder. From stepping back and asking: is this weight really mine to carry?
And from that moment on, things can shift.
When Expectation is Growth-Focused
Not all expectation is toxic. In fact, when it’s shared and understood, expectation can be one of the most powerful tools for growth.
This kind of expectation shows up in clear conversations and mutual agreements—personally between people who trust each other, and professionally through objectives, feedback, and agreed standards of behaviour.
In these moments, expectations don’t confine—they create direction. They can stretch us in meaningful, motivating ways:
- A mentor believing in our next step before we do.
- A friend calling us into better habits.
- A team that sees our potential and makes space for it.
Growth-based expectations don’t suffocate.
They support. They’re spoken. They’re mutual. They come with context and consent.
The difference is simple:
Toxic expectation assumes. Growth-based expectation invites.
Closing: You’re Not Alone in This
If any of this resonates with you—know that you’re not alone.
I don’t have all the answers. I still wrestle with this daily.
I still absorb expectations I didn’t agree to. I still hear a soft comment and spiral.
I still hold myself to standards I’ve never shared with anyone else.
This isn’t a guide.
It’s not a blueprint.
It’s a permission slip.
To feel the weight.
To name it, if you can.
To let go of what was never yours to hold.
Because if you feel the burden of expectation—you’re not broken.
You’re just human.
And maybe, just maybe, naming the weight is the first step to carrying it a little more lightly.
Leave a Reply