I’m having one of those weeks where my expectations never quite match up with reality.
For instance, I expected to be finished with the steroids this week. It was a day I had been looking forward to the moment I got out of the hospital. The reality is, some of my symptoms started to come back the moment I began decreasing, so instead of finishing steroids, they upped my dosage.
I expected that giving myself shots of Humira would be easier the second time around. The reality is I panicked and almost couldn’t go through with it–almost.
I expected I would spend this week writing and blogging, since I have one whole week off before my next grad school class begins. The reality is I’ve let my emotions get the best of me this week, and I can’t seem to find the energy or the motivation to do much of anything.
My expectations sometimes get out of control, but it’s not always bad–like when I expected a terrible grade on my final assignment, and the reality was I had a perfect score. This week, however, reality keeps falling short of my expectations, and it is getting the best of me.