adjusting expectations

The past couple of weeks have been particularly stressful and precipitated a delay in my posting. The dysregulation that hit me wasn’t due solely to a single event or circumstance, but one big factor brought about the most intense anxiety I have ever felt, truly — and that’s saying a lot.

I was kind to myself when I could be. I took a full weekend to rest, but that need spilled over into the following week. I still feel the effects of that stress and anxiety, and not just because I’m in a waiting period for some resolution that might bring actual good news. Even positive stress — like the excitement of an impending astronomical event, or reaching an important or satisfying milestone — can have an unfortunate impact on my body and brain.

The fatigue and brain fog have been much heavier. My gut has been more reactive, and my pain levels higher overall. I’m having to rest more often and for longer periods. Even small exertions like taking a shower have worn me out. From experience, I know (hope?) this worsening of symptoms is temporary. I’ve been here before. But it’s taking longer this time to bounce back, which is itself one of the complications of aging with chronic illness and pain.

Zero stars. Do not recommend.

You might be wondering how this connects to astronomy.

When I was on FaceTime with my Dad the other night to do some backyard stargazing from 3,000 miles away, we talked a little about how observing plans frequently go awry. For weeks now, the Sombrero Galaxy has been tangled in the branches of a neighbor’s tree. And that’s just how it goes sometimes. Clouds get in the way, power lines and satellites obstruct your view, and too often that one cluster or nebula you were most hoping to see is still hiding behind the crepe myrtle.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t see something wonderful in the small pockets of sky that are open. You adjust and make the best of it.

From the West Coast, I coached my father through imaging Markarian’s Chain with his Dwarf 3 under light-polluted skies in Virginia. This collection of galaxies* in the Virgo Cluster is simply stunning, even when using a smaller smart telescope. (*Thirteen galaxies in this chain? Eighteen? Everyone seems to have a different opinion, and not every amateur astronomy instrument can reveal them all.)

There is so much wonder hiding in seeming plain sight. Just because my father’s smart telescope can’t resolve every galaxy, nebula, or other deep-sky object doesn’t mean they’re not there. We can marvel in what we can see, and maybe use our imaginations or consult images from the bigger space telescopes to fill in the rest.

When my observing plans are thwarted, I take comfort in knowing that the stars are still there, be they obscured by overcast conditions or because I simply can’t stay up that late to go outside. I can always try again tomorrow night, or the next night, week, or month after that.

So what’s the message here for me regarding my health struggles? I keep having to scale back my expectations of and for myself. Frequently, this is a demoralizing exercise. But more often, I choose to find joy and delight in simple things. I’m able to better appreciate what’s going right, and what sparks interest and laughter. Despite everything, I somehow remain an optimistic person.

Que sera sera, as the saying goes. The cosmos is a certainty, and my everyday experiences — as unrelenting as they seem — are ultimately temporary. No matter my fulfilled hopes or thwarted expectations, the planet continues to turn. So I keep trying to adjust and make the best of it.

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IMAGES
1. Hubble Provides New View of Galactic Favorite, by NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center
2. The Whale Galaxy (NGC 4631), as imaged from Portland, Oregon, on 25 April 2026 by Jennifer Willis.