I Didn’t Invite You to My Pity Party

Yesterday I was going to write and invite you to my Pity Party.

But I decided to just go it alone. I was in a bit of an awful state.

I just decided to feel sorry for myself even though I really should have been able to get over whatever was bothering me. I should have been “perky and peppy” instead, laughing and smiling, and being wonderful. But I wasn’t. I was growling and sulking.

It’s been a rough couple of days:

• My daughter moved back in with me on Sunday. Starting early Monday, we fought over everything, made everything wrong, and were mean and miserable to each other.
• I couldn’t figure out how to talk to her without both of us hissing and spewing hatred, resentment and blame. It wasn’t fun.
• Today, when she was out and I could clear my head, I sent her a text complimenting her and then telling her that I can’t count on her to do what she says. This causes me resentment, makes ME look like the ass hole for continually having to ask her, and misery.
• She came home and we talked. She first blamed me for why she doesn’t do what she says and I just listened, saying ok and anything else? When there was nothing left for her to spew, I helped her create a structure for keeping her word. I gave her a book where she could write down what she promises people she will do, and then schedule those tasks into her day. It took about 5 minutes. She was grateful.
• Now, we are friends again and laughing and getting along. It’s a miracle.

The second thing:

• I was going to hire a company to help me go after my dream. I talked to my Financial Planner. and he asked me a lot of questions about why I was spending this money. I didn’t have the answers. I got upset, decided I was stupid for doing it, it wouldn’t work anyway, and I was an idiot for wasting the money.
• Instead I would save the money, waddle along in life without purpose, and avoid taking any risks.
• I invalidated everything I’ve ever done, felt sorry for myself, and was resigned that “this is as good as it’s ever going to get.” La-dee, la-dee, la. Poor me. I’ll survive, it’s ok. Dumb idea. Boo Hoo.
• I wallowed some more.
• Today I got a text. One of the guys I was going to work with asked me to talk to him.
• “Why? What does he want? Probably his money,” I thought with cynicism.
• “I’m not giving in,” I thought. “I’ll just listen. I won’t say a word.”
• I listened. Then he asked me a question about what I wanted. It was hard to answer but I finally did. “It’s a lot of money,” I said afterwards.
• “You are paying for two guys to work for you for 4 months to make you successful. That’s what you’re paying for,” he said.
• “What does successful mean to you?” I asked.
• “Oh, OK,” I said. The resignation lifted off my chest. I paid the invoice on my phone.
• And guess what? I stopped feeling sorry for myself. I felt alive again and on a mission.
• It was another miracle.

Those were the two big things I resolved today.

So I’m sorry I can’t invite you to my Pity Party. Next time, I’ll invite you before it ends.

Have a great day.