I’m Not Responsible for Your Expectations
Why Boundaries Get Called Selfish When Expectations Go Unmet
This article isn’t about avoiding responsibility, dismissing pain, or pretending relationships don’t matter. It’s about something far more uncomfortable—and far more necessary: the moment we realize that just because we feel hurt doesn’t automatically mean someone else did something wrong.
Most conflicts we experience aren’t caused by cruelty or neglect, but by unspoken expectations colliding with reality. When someone doesn’t show up the way we hoped, it’s easy to translate disappointment into blame and boundaries into selfishness. This article explores how that shift happens, why it feels so personal, and what changes when we begin taking responsibility for our expectations instead of assigning fault for them.
If you’ve ever been told you weren’t doing enough—while quietly carrying more than your share—or if you’ve ever felt hurt when someone didn’t meet a need you never voiced, this piece is an invitation to slow down, reflect, and reconsider where responsibility actually belongs.
How Expectations Create Unnecessary Conflict
Your Expectations Are Not Evidence of Their Failure
This is something I’ve had to learn the hard way.
When I speak now, I talk about how I feel.
I don’t use “you” statements.
Because “you” statements almost always assume something that isn’t actually true.
When we say things like
“You didn’t check on me,”
“You don’t care,”
“You should have known,”
what we are really saying is:
I had an expectation of you.
You didn’t meet it.
And now I’m hurt.
But here’s the part we often skip:
An expectation—especially an unspoken one—is not an obligation.
Just because you want someone to check on you
doesn’t mean it is their responsibility to do so.
Just because you expect someone to show up in a certain way
doesn’t mean they failed if they didn’t.
It means your wish wasn’t fulfilled.
And when that happens, the hurt that follows is real—
but that hurt does not automatically make the other person wrong.
This is where “you” statements turn disappointment into perceived attack.
Instead of saying:
“I’m hurt because I needed support and didn’t ask for it,”
it becomes:
“You hurt me.”
Instead of owning:
“I expected something you didn’t agree to,”
it becomes:
“You should have known.”
That shift is where conflict explodes, because now the other person is being asked to:
- feel guilty for not reading minds
- take responsibility for expectations they didn’t create
- repair pain they didn’t knowingly cause
And that’s not accountability.
That’s projection.
I don’t perform for other people’s expectations anymore because those expectations belong to them.
They come from their history.
Their needs.
Their wounds.
Their ideas of how things should be.
Everyone is allowed to want things.
Everyone is allowed to feel hurt when they don’t get them.
But no one is entitled to make someone else responsible for fulfilling unspoken expectations—or responsible for the emotions that come from them.
This is why people-pleasing destroys relationships.
Because when one person is always expected to adjust, anticipate, and accommodate, the relationship stops being mutual and starts being conditional.
So here’s the honest question I ask myself now—and I invite you to ask it too:
When was the last time you felt hurt by someone…
but never actually told them what you needed?
And when you felt that hurt—
did you take responsibility for it…
or did you turn it into blame?
Taking responsibility for your emotions doesn’t invalidate them.
It grounds them.
It means:
- your feelings matter
- your needs matter
- your hurt is real
But it also means:
- your hurt does not obligate someone else to feel bad
- your disappointment is not proof of someone else’s failure
- your emotions are yours to tend to
Once I understood that, everything changed.
I could care without accusing.
I could feel pain without turning it into attack.
I could listen without defending myself.
And most importantly—I stopped fighting battles that were never actually wars.
Effort Is Not Selfish Just Because It Has Limits
There’s another piece to this that needs to be said.
I approach people the way I know how to approach them.
I call. I invite. I extend an opportunity to connect.
When I host something, it’s scheduled for a time that I can host—because that’s when I’m available. Not because I’m inconsiderate. Not because I don’t care. But because that’s the reality of my life.
People can come.
Or they can choose not to.
What they can’t do is rewrite that effort as selfish simply because it didn’t bend around their schedule.
Offering connection within your capacity is not the same thing as demanding participation.
Here’s what often gets missed:
I’m rarely invited to things others plan.
I’m rarely asked, “When works for you?”
I’m rarely given the option to attend something built around my availability.
And yet, when I extend an invitation within my capacity, it’s framed as me “not taking others into consideration.”
That’s not fairness.
That’s a double standard.
Effort doesn’t stop being effort just because it has boundaries.
Connection doesn’t stop being generous just because it isn’t customizable for every single person.
At least an invitation says:
“I thought of you.”
“I made space the way I could.”
“You’re welcome here if it works for you.”
That matters.
What creates resentment and conflict is the belief that:
- effort only counts if it looks the way someone else wants it to look
- love only counts if it’s delivered on demand
- availability must be unlimited to be valid
That belief quietly teaches people to stop reaching out at all.
And that’s not healing.
That’s how relationships slowly disappear—not because no one cared, but because effort kept getting punished instead of acknowledged.
I’m learning that offering connection honestly is enough.
Receiving it—or not—is a choice others get to make.
But calling effort selfish simply because it has limits?
That’s not accountability.
That’s expectation without reciprocity.
What If You Just Didn’t?
What if you just didn’t?
Didn’t explain.
Didn’t convince.
Didn’t perform.
Didn’t twist yourself into the shape someone else needs you to be so they feel okay.
We all worry about bills. I think about mine every day.
But here’s the thing—I still have a choice.
I can choose not to pay for things I don’t actually need.
I can cancel a streaming service.
I can go outside and move the rocks I don’t want in my yard.
I can stand up, move my body, breathe, and let my spirit guide me instead of panic.
I can choose not to respond.
And that applies to relationships too.
When anyone tells you you’re selfish because you won’t perform to their expectations, you can choose not to respond.
When anyone in your life requires you to act a certain way so they can be happy, you can choose not to respond.
Not because you don’t care.
But because caring doesn’t mean self-erasure.
We all want connection. We all want relationships.
But not at the expense of our self-worth.
Not at the cost of our nervous systems.
Not by constantly proving our love through exhaustion.
Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do isn’t fixing it.
It’s stopping.
Stopping the chase.
Stopping the explanation.
Stopping the belief that love must be earned through sacrifice.
What if you just didn’t…
and instead chose yourself?
Sit with that for just a moment.🔥
🔥 Join US!!
If this landed for you—if you felt seen, quietly challenged, or relieved to finally have language for what you’ve been experiencing—I’ve created a space where these conversations continue in real time.
The Fireside Circle is for people who are ready to stop reacting from pain, stop absorbing other people’s expectations, and take responsibility for their growth without shame or self-erasure.
This is not a space for fixing or performing.
It is a space for honest reflection, nervous-system awareness, boundaries, and learning how to respond instead of react.
You don’t have to be healed.
You do have to be willing.
If it resonates, pull up a chair and join us here:
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