As November’s Beaver Moon begins waxing, your friend the priestess is—as always—thinking of ways to help you live your best life, beloveds.
Lately, what’s been weighing on my mind is the subject of expectations. A friend said something to me nearly two decades ago that I’ve never forgotten:
“The easiest thing for two people to achieve together is a misunderstanding.”
It struck me—appealing to my sense of poetry. Ironic. Twisty. True.
At the time, I let it wash over me, half-understood. But the years marched forward, and the truth of it sank deeper and deeper. Rooted in me. Proving itself again and again.
As a feeling human—one with needs, desires, responsibilities, and yes, expectations—I’ve learned to manage them in a hundred unique (and equally painful) ways. I’ve watched others carry expectations of me too, some so wild they left me speechless.
I’ve always had a strong back for emotional labor. And for a long time, I never consciously set boundaries—even after learning I was allowed to. If someone wanted to lay their weight on me, I’d take it. I’d hold it. Sometimes I’d even carry it.
One of the heaviest burdens I’ve ever taken on still weighs me down a little today—though it’s lightened substantially. I carry it gladly. It keeps me safe. It has witnessed me. It’s fed my soul with loving loyalty for over two decades.
No love is perfect. But if you ever find yourself truly chosen—that in itself is worth bearing whatever weight may come with it.
Still…
The trouble with carrying others’ burdens is that it breeds expectation.
And expectations, if unspoken, so often wither into resentment.
There’s a peculiar brilliance in the human brain: its ability to convince someone of their innocence while they stand in the ashes of their own mess. Not expressing your needs isn’t an atrocity in itself, but the damage of buried resentment can be.
John Mayer’s “Say” comes to mind—the simple repetition of the lyric:
“Say what you need to say.”
At first, he dares us to downplay our own suffering, mocking our “so-called problems.” It sounds condescending at first. But what if it’s a mirror?
Do you minimize your own pain?
Do you think your unmet needs don’t matter?
Are you embarrassed to demand your fair share of love, respect, or devotion?
Who’s being condescending now, beloved?
Mayer sings about how when we bottle our pain, insecurities, or trauma, they eat away at the soul. We turn ourselves into one-man armies when we were designed for kinship and community. We loop through old coping patterns, shadow-boxing demons that may no longer exist, chewing the same bitterness again and again because it’s familiar.
But love, no one is stopping you from spitting it out.
I understand why you don’t. I understand the fear. There’s nothing worse than being misunderstood. Rejected. Dismissed. The pain of being unseen is visceral. The vacant stares. The excuses to walk away. The defensiveness, maybe even martyrdom.
And still…
You must try.
Make yourself vulnerable to another human and say the thing that makes your hands shake.
Wear blue stones between your collarbones and say the thing that makes you cry.
Say it badly, if that’s all you can manage. Say it into a mirror. Write it down. Whisper it into the night.
Begin.
Because if you don’t say what you need, you likely won’t receive it.
Your people—your friends, your family—cannot read your mind.
And no one, no one, owes you their attention if you never gave them a chance to see you. To hear you. To understand you.
And beloved, you’ll survive either way.
Maybe they won’t hold your hand.
Maybe they won’t listen with their heart open.
But if they can’t (or won’t) then they were never yours to hold.
And you’ll find being misunderstood isn’t the worst fate, after all.
Maybe you’ll sharpen your words.
Maybe you’ll find another ear.
But don’t stop trying. Don’t stop tuning into the frequency that resonates with you.
Every unsatisfying conversation is just a step closer to people who will know your voice when they hear it.
And in the meantime, you can tell me everything, beloved.
I’ll listen. I’ll witness.
And I’ll craft you a blessed talisman with your story woven into the stones—whether through Reiki or magic, always with love.
Whatever it is you have to say, say it with your whole chest.
Say it like a royal reclaiming their throne.
Say it like someone who knows their heart is worth being witnessed.
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