Thursday, May 26, 2011

Crashing My Own Pity Party

First of all, I will admit that I am a huge fan of pity parties.  I think they are necessary and can be very therapeutic.  I have two rules for my own personal pity party though.  First and most important, pity parties cannot last more than one day.  Any longer than a day is more likely a trip down the proverbial rabbit hole and stronger measures must be taken.  Second rule is that I don't invite people to my pity party.  These things really are better left to just one person.  Bringing someone into the mix can lead to broken friendships, more sleepless nights, and if done on a frequent basis relationship issues.  

I am fine admitting to those around me that I am having the pity party.  Most people will steer clear and leave me to my darkness.  Some people try to be cute and cheer me up, which sometimes will help, but more often than not is just not what I am wanting.  I want to bask in self loathing and misery and sadness and, well, pity.  I want to do it and get it over with.

Today was the perfect day for a pity party, but thanks to the love of my life, I was actually able to crash that party.  Today mark three weeks since my ankle surgery for me.  I've not been able to do much of anything, but lie on the couch, lie in the bed, sit in the chair, crutch or knee walk to the bathroom.  Each activity is tiresome, can oftentimes be cumbersome, and takes enormous effort.  Said love of my life had a paperback in hand, asked me if I needed anything, and was headed out for a couple of hours in the pool.  I just shook my head no and proceeded to settle in for the duration of the pity party.  
Then he asked me if I was enjoying my pity party, to which I answered, "of course!"  He then asked me if I wanted to join him outside.  It's too hot, my cast will feel miserable, and I retorted (okay, whined) my litany of reasons to stay inside and sulk.  My nifty little Xerosox won't be in for a few days, so I'd just tough it out in the nice air conditioned house.  
My beloved gave me an alternative and questioned my "toughness", which was basically a challenge to live up to his offer to help me through my dark day.  So, I bucked up, went with his creativity, and had total trust in him and was able to spend a glorious hour in the pool.  

Sure it would have been easier to stay inside and wallow away, but how often does one get to crash their own party?

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