Pity Party’s Over

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Everyone deserves a pity party every once in a while.  Just don’t let it drag on….

The day after my birthday I woke up to find that I was the guest of honor at a surprise party.  It’s been going on for days now.  There are no party decorations or gifts, but over the ensuing days I’ve consumed a half pan of brownies, several bags of cheddar popcorn, and stale candy from my kids’ forgotten Halloween bags.  I’ve tried to pretend the party isn’t going on, but the signs are there.  On Sunday, I watched two long and sad TCM movies, then claimed I was too tired to go to our neighbor’s Super Bowl party.  The truth is I didn’t want to take off my sweaty sweat pants.  That’s the thing about pity parties, they make you pitiful.

I tried to invite my husband to my pity party, but he wouldn’t come.  He deflected my complaints about the state of the world and laughed good naturedly when I suggested that he dye his gray hair so that we wouldn’t stick out so much at our child’s elementary school.  Clearly, Tim isn’t the ideal guest for a pity party.

A pity party can be a harmless way of gorging on restricted treats, wearing the same clothes and shirking duties for a day or two.  There’s no harm in presenting one’s real face to the world, and  I bet there are health benefits in embracing the comfort of old sweat pants (yoga pants don’t count).   The trick is knowing when to shut the party down,  because pity parties are notorious for lasting way beyond any reasonable amount of time.  Close it down, before you become stuck and the pity party becomes an unhappy way of life.

I woke up this morning feeling drained and unenthusiastic about my day.  What was happening?  I’m happy in the am.  I LOVE the morning!  It was obvious my pity party was no longer a rebellious reprieve, but was morphing into a dismal trap.  Party time was over.

How did I end my pity party?  I took off the sweat pants, put on yoga pants and stopped feeling sorry for myself.  My circumstances didn’t change.  I still feel old.  I still feel inadequate.  I’m still mad at the world.  I’m still really short, and I still need to lose weight.  So what?  I get one more day to do my part to change some of that.  I traded my self pity in for some hope.  Tomorrow, I’ll add a new plan to that hope, and after still more days my pity party will be a distant memory.

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