My Pity Party
“Welcome to my Pity Party. I had a feeling you two would be the first to arrive. Come in, Moan and Groan.”
“Are you kidding, we wouldn’t miss it for a funeral,” said Groan with her usual creaking voice. “My, don’t you look perfectly pathetic in your black and gray jammies. But tell us Soledad, what’s the occasion?”
“I’m approaching my seventieth birthday and I have forgotten how to enjoy life. All my fun friends are too busy for me.”
“You poor thing,” said Moan painfully. “But at least you have us.”
Just then the doorbell rang; I opened the door to find Misery. She was wearing her old wedding dress that she dyed black. Behind her were Sadness, Pain, Anger, and Fear.
“Come in, the others are here.”
“Good, let the binging began,” Misery commanded. She handed me bags of cookies, potato chips, and chocolate candy, as they all marched in like gaggling geese.
“What, no alcohol?” I was disappointed.
“Afraid not,” someone shouted, “Booze makes you giddy and after all this party is not exactly about having fun, right?”
Of course, she was right. I had invited my friends over to indulge me in my self pity, to cheer me on as I vented, to eat comfort food with me and to tell me everything I wanted to hear.
I turned on the CD player to some pre-selected songs: “Are You Lonesome Tonight,” “One is the Loneliest Number,” “Cry Me a River,” “You’re Nobody Until Somebody Loves You,” “Losing Faith,” any song that could make you feel like throwing yourself off a cliff. Then I strewed a variety of tissue boxes around the coffee table.
I took a place on the couch with my guests. Everyone was sympathetic to me, at first, saying how I deserve better and how unfair it is that I’m under appreciated, that I had good reason to be depressed.
The conversation shifted when Moan and Groan went on and on for what seemed like eons about their little aches and pains and those of their dogs and cats, and that of their neighbors down the street. Misery chimed in about the state of the world’s poverty and squalor and how happiness is just an illusion anyway.
Sadness began to cry. Anger told everyone to shut up! Fear put her hands over her ears and trembled, her lips quivered so that she was unable to verbalize her anxiety. “Hey!” I growled through clenched teeth. “This party is for me!”
“Of course, it is dear, but your problems are minor, low in severity compared to those of the world.”
Anger got up and began to shout at me. “You are self-centered and don’t give a fig about anybody else.”
“That’s because it’s my pity party! Not any of yours!”
Sadness and Fear got on their feet and said they were leaving. Sadness added that she should not have come because of her seasonal affective disorder, due to lack of sunshine.
“Well, you can all leave,” I announced, “I can eat junk food, listen to sad songs, watch tear-jerker movies all by myself.”
With that they all marched out in a huff, slamming the door behind them. I sank in to the couch feeling rejected. I hoped, but I doubted, that my drugs of choice, chocolate, ice cream and popcorn could save me from this deep state of gloominess.
The doorbell rang. I didn’t have the energy to get myself up until I recognized a familiar voice. It was Jacqui from my memoirs group.
“Open up, Child, it’s cold out here, and I brought two friends with me that I think you should meet.” Reluctantly, I dragged myself up and shuffled to the front door and cracked it open.
“Hi, Jacqui, I’m sorry but I’m not such good company tonight.” All the while I’m thinking: I didn’t invite her to my pity party, why is she here?
“Don’t worry, my friends are very good company.” I looked over at the two women with her, each had angelic smiles. Jacqui, with an angelic smile of her own, introduced them as Hope and Faith.
Hope spoke first. She was upbeat, effervescent. “Hi, Soledad, we have come to help you find your authentic self.”
“Okay, you can come in, but how are we going to accomplish such a task, I don’t know.”
“Take a leap with me,” said Faith. “Soon you will recognize the woman you forgot you were. Jacqui has told us of all the lovely scrapbooks you have made. Let’s look through those pages of all the people, pets, and places you love.”
“You will find yourself when you have revisited your many blessings and talents,” added Hope.
“Yes!” said Jacqui enthusiastically. “Then we will put together a gratitude journal. I’ll make us some tea. It’s bound to be a long night. And we are going to have us some fun!”
With my spirits rallied, I trusted and believed her.
Thus, was the beginning of my unique party with Jacqui and my extraordinary new friends, and luminous moments, where I learned to breathe deeply the fragrance of contentment, and to appreciate that I’m really too blessed to be depressed. Truly, my party was even more unique than I could have imagined.