How disappointed we feel will depend on the magnitude of our
disappointment. If my soufflé fails to
rise or I discover the dress I planned to wear to an important occasion no
longer fits I will be mildly disappointed, but if my daughter fails to win a
place at the university of her choosing I may be very disappointed. I may feel that the decision to turn her down
is unfair. All the more so if I believe
that it will have a significant impact on her career, once she graduates.
I will be disappointed on her behalf, as well. And, like most parents, I will feel disappointed,
for her, if her boyfriend dumps her for someone else. The disappointment I feel will be the measure of how deeply I empathise with her
disappointment.
How we respond to any given disappointment – how unhappy we
feel - is measure of much we’ve invested in our hopes and expectations for an
outcome. We will doubtless feel sadness,
dissatisfaction or displeasure that something we’d anticipated would go according
to plan has not come to pass. And if,
upon reflection, we can see beyond our immediate feelings, disappointment can
be a means for growth. We may find that
as we comfort ourselves with platitudes like, ‘It wasn’t meant to be,’ or ‘There’s
plenty more fish in the sea,’ that there’s compensation to be had in every
disappointment
David Whyte, writing in Consolations agrees that
disappointment can be a teacher: an opportunity to not only reappraise who we
have become and our relationship to the world (our place in it) but also to consider
“the larger foundational reality that lies beyond any false self we had only
projected upon the outer world.”
Disappointment may be “the first stage of our emancipation into the next
greater pattern of existence.”
So the measure of what we can learn from disappointment is
the measure of our willingness to embrace it as a teacher; our willingness to
allow it to bring us back down to ground.
Whyte understands this to mean that disappointment can restore us “to a
firmer sense of our self, a surer sense of our world, and what is good and
possible for us in the world, or whether we experience it only as a wound that
makes us retreat from farther participation.”
In the light of what we discover about ourselves and the
world we may see that our aspirations
weren’t realistic in the first place and consider that if we set our
expectations lower, we’ll have less disappointment, and any disappointment we
do experience won’t feel as crushing: if
we don’t have hope, our hope can’t be crushed.
Without hope and expectation, we couldn’t have disappointment. But is living without hope a life really
worth living? Would we really be happier if we expected everything in our life
to crumble to ashes? Realistically we
wouldn’t attempt anything. Sadly, some
people do give up and are reduced to shadows of their former selves.
I begin to feel that Whyte’s response on disappointment is a
tad melodramatic. At one time to
disappoint mean ‘to undo the appointment, remove from office,’ but now? I can appreciate that the confiscation of
title and lands in the early fifteenth century would have had serious
repercussions, but in this day and age don’t we understand disappointment to be
something a lot less serious?
Surely, what we understand as disappointment doesn’t impinge
on us to this extent? I’m not sure I
would describe my response to a heart broken in love or the hurt a disloyal
friend has caused me as merely disappointing; I would consider the word disappointment
too mild.
OK. I’m probably splitting hairs. A mid-life crisis can be described as having
a sense of profound disappointment – not as a response to any one event, but to
a series of events. My understanding is that
disappointment of this magnitude (which I feel is where Whyte is coming from)
is best described as a nebulous intense feeling – that will have as much
to do with how we consider things ought to be as with how things actually are.
And thus - despite my misgivings - I find myself agreeing with Whyte. Irrespective of the magnitude disappointment
is always a reality check and a call to transformation.