Take your pivoting, and your puzzles and your sourdough starter, and shove them up your ass. And then take your upbeat attitude and your side business selling homemade masks, and your righteous indignation, and shove that up your ass too. Take your meditations and your mantras and your Pollyanna memes and, yes, you guessed it. Shove ‘em up your ass. Let’s take all that crap, all that shit that we are using to keep ourselves sane, or so we think, and shove it up our collective asses. All of our distractions, and our work arounds and our endless walks. That’s what I’m doing. It’s all going up there. Good thing my ass has quadrupled in size since last year.
Because right now, I’m throwing a pity party. A big fucking pity party. A good old Dionysian feast. Everyone is welcome, wine is flowing, beers on tap and there are hor’s dourves as far as the eye can see (don’t worry, I’m having it catered).
I don’t know why pity parties get such a bad rap. Maybe it’s because you never know how many people will be showing up. Or maybe it’s because the decorations are so tacky. I don’t fucking know.
But the thing is, like all parties, a pity party will end. Eventually the guests make their way home to sleep it off, or pass out on your sofa, or pool table, or bathroom floor. You wake up in the morning, nursing your hangover, and pull out a garbage bag and start cleaning up. You wonder who got into your good scotch, how those footprints got on the ceiling, and why is the dog covered in glitter.
So please, come join me.
I hate this. I hate all of it. I hate the masks, and the mask culture. I hate social distancing; I hate hand sanitizer. I hate being afraid of walking the wrong way in a store. I hate that I can’t hug people, that I don’t know how to interact with people. I hate that I don’t know what the hell is going on, that I don’t know how many people I can hang out with so better to just not hang out at all. I hate that video is a poor replacement for live action. I hate pretending I’m on board with our new normal. I hate that I can’t comfort people around me, and that I’m terrified of making my immunocompromised friend sick, and I hate that I can’t hold her hand. I miss everything. Everything.
I know why we need to do this. I know I’m lucky. I know I’m privileged and that so many have it so much worse. But at this moment, I don’t really give a shit about that, at least not at my party. It’s my party, and I’m going to sit, and mope and sleep and cry and eat and allow myself to do all that for as long as I need to do all that.
And then, at some point, I will be done. I will have emptied my self-pity bladder. I will have made space in my being for optimism and light and happiness. Because honestly, that really is my natural state of being. I know it seems like it isn’t, but it really is. But when my self-pity bladder gets full, I need to empty it before it explodes. Because it will. And I will need a hazmat team to clean it up.
Alright. Party’s over. Hand me the broom.
Just a girl, sitting quietly, releasing the pressure valve on her brain.
19 thoughts on “Pity? Party of 1! Pity? Party of 1!”
Congratulations on your first Spew. Looking forward to many more.
Thank you my friend!
An excellent read….found myself nodding in agreement a LOT. Thank you for the invite. It was nice to go to a party!! Been too long. Love you and can’t wait to read more!
I always love your writing and what you have to say – looking forward to reading more!
Signed, No Pollyanna
Thank you for inviting me to the pity party- it was just what I needed. Love your mind, love your spews and love you!
My air fryer is responsible for keeping me sane but i can’t fit that up my ass, it’s just not in me to give. I’m with you on hating everything and honestly, every good person I know secretly does but is afraid to complain, the other side of this will be a wonderland.
Love a good pity party! I think most of us are losing it but I hope there’s a light at the end of this really long tunnel. But while I patiently wait, I like to walk down the aisle the wrong way and watch people give me the evil eye. It’s my little way of saying fuck you.
I love this. So honest. So true. Funny and blunt. Great read. I look forward to more of your mind spew.
Well said, thought provoking and even I feel better now! Btw a certain Lincoln must have dumped the glitter on the dog!
I bet he did! So Lincoln!
Wonderful. Could not have said it better myself!!
Sigh…now doesn’t that feel better? Love the spew. Can’t wait to read the next one. Sending hugs
Lincoln may have glittered the dog, but I’m the one who left the footprints on the ceiling and then passed out on your couch. I regret nothing.
No ragrets? Not even one? Not even a letter?
I spewed. Well, I read your spew. Always a joy to read your words. Not as good as hearing them aloud and watching you spew them but I’ll take it.
It’s my party.
Yes! This made my night. Love you my friend!
You are quite amazing, my sweet Sharon
, Never forget that!❤️❤️❤️❤️
I think everyone deserves a pity party now and then and you get to the heart of it so well. Mine comes in the form of insomnia, knowing I will sleep well the following night, and feeling awful for a day. Tomorrow is March 1; hoping the buds are under the snow; heard the birds chirping today; I’ve had both vaccines; my husband is doing very well after open heart surgery 6 weeks ago; my mid-90 parents survived Covid; we’ve got water leaking in the basement – it better stop and dry soon; our sons helped us clean out the basement; and our 7-month old grandson brings us so much joy. So, there are daily ups and downs, Sharon. Thanks for sharing and look forward to more.
So well said. And it’s how we all feel. Besides, every once in a while, a pity party is good for the soul. And now is the perfect time. Thank you. Reading that has lifted my mood.