I’m Having A Pity Party & You’re Invited

Celebrate the crappy things in life

You are invited to my pity party. 

Let’s make it pot luck. Someone needs to bring moodiness. We also need tears, moping and heartache. Some melancholy would be appropriate and we should mix some regret with a little agony.  I have a good recipe for gloom that pairs well with despair. 

Festivities at the party will include bemoaning, complaining, rueing, lamenting and crying over spilled milk. 

We will invite all those who want to wallow. All guests must agree not to point out anything positive and they must drag in the mud when they enter. 

Some would say that having pity parties is unhealthy, but today I had one and I feel better for it. Most people who have known me for a long time would say I teeter on the “too positive” side of life. And for the most part, I agree with them. I was a high school Drama teacher for 27 years and one of my students told a guidance counsellor that I was a little “too happy all the time” and it was more than she could handle in one sitting. If only that student had seen me today. 

I woke up with a tightness in the back

 of my throat and I felt like I might cry so I busied myself with washing the dishes, making chokecherry jelly (well, almost made it; see addendum), folding the laundry and checking emails. The tears continued to pressure my eyes begging to be released. I couldn’t figure out exactly what was wrong. It was a beautiful fall day, I didn’t have anything specific to worry about (yet) and yesterday’s migraine had lost possession of my body. I should have felt great. 

Except I didn’t. 

Truth is, I feel guilty when I am poopy. I know I am amazingly fortunate. I can list so many wonderful blessings in my life: two healthy and amazing adult children, a prince of a husband who lets me be on my pedestal, a terrific extended family, great in-laws (and outlaws; see appendix again), steadfast friends, great health, a gorgeous high rise condo, a wonderful education that afforded me the opportunity to attend graduate school, food at my fingertips, religious freedom and a sanely run country in which to live. 

Why then, be despondent? 

Because some parts of life suck. Breezing over this fact and ignoring it is repression. I am the queen of repression. That’s why I can deliver eulogies without crying, wedding toasts with just the right dose of emotion and refrain from needing Kleenexes at nostalgic movies. Great for those moments but not great for my overall mental and emotional health. It wasn’t until the last decade that I began to allow myself to deeply feel the negative emotions without chastising myself for them. I used to be embarrassed if I lost my temper or more accurately, I felt proud of myself because I rarely lost my temper. If I felt sad, I gave myself heck for forgetting to be grateful. I felt strong because my emotions were in check. 

One problem with that. 

Emotions held up in a dam eventually break through. When they break through the dam, they come with more force than if I let the current run freely. Today was a day they broke through.

After Googling whether tears will damage my eyelash extensions (it turns out they are unaffected by tears), I dashed out the door and let the emotion rush in. No sooner did my lungs accept the fresh air, my tears found my cheeks. And my heart let my head know the cause. I miss my Mom. Anger was a compound in my tears because Cancer had taken her from me before I was ready. Before she was ready. Before any of us were ready. 

And for this, I was going to have a pity party.

The party started with the tears and then turned into a rewinding of the last few months, remembering how difficult it was to watch her get smaller, to watch her struggle, to watch my Dad tenderly care for her every need. That movie played in my mind’s eye for an hour and forty minutes as I walked to the Beaches of Toronto. 

Then my body draped a bench.

My eyes gazed across the Great Lake and the emotions converted to a still but heavy numbness. The autumn sun held me in a warm embrace while slowly I used my gratitude muscle turning the sad LP record I was playing in my head to the flip-side. On one side, my mom was dead and gone; on the other side I had a mom who adored me. I had a mom who cried each September when her children went back to school because she would miss them. I had a Mom who gave us little presents at Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick's day, Canada Day and Easter because it was far too long to wait for a birthday. I had a mom who taught by example, not by lecture. I had a mom who made people more important than any project. 

It’s important to play the A side of the record every now and then. 

The loss of Mom warrants a cry now and then. This is one of the things in life that sucks. Giving myself permission to acknowledge the dark clouds that come in life ensures that I process every emotion, even the yucky ones. For it is in playing the A side of the record that I learn to flip to the B side. All part of the same awesome album of life. 

So, enough.
The pity party is over until another one is needed. You are allowed to throw one every once in a while. 

So enough. 
I have more than enough. I am enough. 
Enough. 

ADDENDUM 1:

I referenced the fact that I “almost” made chokecherry jelly. Before I left to have my pity party walk, I prepped and boiled the cherries. In order to strain them the required amount to create ample juice for the jelly, I placed the cherries in a cheesecloth pouch and hung it over the kitchen faucet with a bowl under it in the sink to catch the juice. 

I came home from my three hour walk, to discover my husband, in his attempt to start supper, had turned the tap on, diluted the juice and threw a dirty dish in the bowl. 

We have no chokecherry jelly. Gotta love them husbands. 

ADDENDUM 2: 

I referred to my awesome “out-laws”. Let me explain what I mean. When I married my husband I acquired two delightful in-law parents and an adventurous brother-in-law. 

This is my second marriage. In my “practice” marriage, I acquired two beautiful in-law parents and a fun-loving sister-in-law, along with a beautiful set of extended family-in-laws. Since the divorce, every single one of them has continued to support, encourage and embrace me. I did not divorce them. However, I struggle with what to call them so I guess they are my out-laws! Or perhaps “family by choice”. Lol! But seriously, what an awesome thing to be thankful for. How many people can boast that they have and love both their in-laws and out-laws!

ADDENDUM 3: Science! 

Robert A. Emmons, PhD., who is considered a world leader in Gratitude Research, found that “grateful people do not deny or ignore the negative aspects of life”. (2011, emmons.faculty.ucdavis.edu/gratitude-and-well-being/). See! Even the experts give permission for the occasional pity party!