Heavy TVs and Salty Pretzels

I think managing expectations is going to be vital in this fight of mine against depression.

I have a vivid imagination. Which means I tend to fantasize about how certain days/events/conversations/outings are going to play out. This gets me in trouble. a lot. Mostly because when I fantasize things I either fantasize them as an extreme worst case scenario, or I fantasize them as these magical things where everything is perfect.

neither is realistic or healthy...and the latter can bring out the depression monster really easily.

I know from experience that there are a few of my friends who are more likely to disappoint me or completely flake out on me. But instead of taking that into account when playing out my little mind events, it suddenly becomes a case where they are magically flake and disappointment free and we have a great time. Which, more often than not, is not the case.

Which means when they do flake...or when they do disappoint me...it opens the cage for the raging depression monster.


So my new goal is to manage my expectations.


I guess it's a case of not expecting an Auntie Anne's pretzel at the Target snack bar.

As you all should know, Auntie Anne's serves a delectible soft pretzel (and if you do not know this, please let me take you to Cool Springs and introduce you.). And if you love soft pretzels like I do, you pretty much crave them anytime you enter the mall. They are the perfect mix of slightly crispy outside, soft and lovely inside, and a light buttery glaze with the perfect amount of salt. Thinking about it is almost making me drool. Maybe I should make a trip to Cool Springs tomorrow...

anyways.

My sister and I went to Target today. She wanted to spend some of her waitressing cash on things for the apartment she is getting when she goes back to school, and I just wanted to get out of the house. Plus, Target is such a nice place to walk around and lust after things you can't afford for the house you don't have. lol

After she had made her purchases she decided she wanted a drink, and asked if I wanted one. I sure did. So we made our way to the Target snack bar, and she saw that they had soft pretzels. Would we both like one of those? um...yes. yes we would. So we got 2 soft pretzels and 2 drinks for 4something.

That should have been a clue right there. At Auntie Anne's 1 drink and 1 pretzel cost upwards of $5...so double that for the same money should have said something about the quality of what we were getting.

The pretzels were pretzel shaped. They were basically pretzel colored. And they had salt on them. But that was where the similarities between Auntie Anne's pretzels and Target snack bar pretzels should stop. And after eating less than half of my butter and salt slathered sponge I did stop. And to "stick it to the man" who served me such a travesty I dumped out the rest of my soda and filled it with delicious white cherry slushie. Take that, Target.

But honestly...should I have expected Auntie Anne's quality pretzel goodness from a cheap superstore snack bar? No. I shouldn't have. I should have expected something of lesser quality. I should have managed my expectations.


I need to do that more both in my consumer life and in my relational life.


So next time I am offered a situation that seems too good to be true...I will try to manage my expectations. Instead of taking steps to try to ensure the absolutely optimum situation, and having a TV try to kill me in the process, I will take things as they come. Anything can be made to look respectable with 30min. notice. Dad would have been here to move the TV for me today if it had been needed.

And by managing expectations I would not have been at all surprised and much less disappointed when none of it came to pass.

Meaning the depression monster wouldn't have reared it's ugly head.

Luckily he just poked his head out of the cave, roared a few times, and then I was able to convince him to go back inside and leave me alone.


I like it when I can do that. When it's controllable. When it doesn't come out in a swift cloud of fury, but instead starts to creep out and I can notice and stop it.


Personifying depression is silly...but it helps sometimes.