Today I had a pity party. The usual guests were in attendance, my wounded soul, frayed emotions and wallowing grief. They were never a fun group.
Unlike guests of good edict who arrive by invitation only, these guests came unannounced. I would say they were not welcome except I am the one who opened the door and let them in, heck, I practically rolled out the red carpet for their sorry souls, them being so familiar from my former self.
Instead of cake and good cheer they brought their usual demeanor of self-indulgent disappointment and let’s take a nap mentality.
I do realize actions elicit events; a birthday-a birthday party, a graduation-a graduation party, a promotion–a card signed by your co-workers who really aren’t happy for you but begrudgingly sign it any way for the sport who anted up the money to buy the card. All of these somehow deeming the name for a celebration, a party.
So I must ask myself who put the P in pity party?
I imagine it to be some wretched soul living in the aftermath of a self-imposed consequence trying to soothe himself. In reality the aftermath of a disappointing event should be called a “pity pitfall.” There is nothing celebratory about having expectations broken. Especially, when you failed to tell the other person what it was you expected from them, then choose to plummet to the pit when they did not perform as you imagined they should.
Therefore, I am chosing instead to ask my unpleasant guests to leave and not return. Instead I will replace them with love, forgiveness and joy as I peel off another layer of my artichoke (see my early post where I refuse to continue to peel my emotional onion any further) and get closer to the heart.
John Townsend has said if you spend more than two minutes doing something you should evaluate if it is a good use of your time. Spending the day entertaining my unplanned guests was not.
Today’s Reality: I am responsible for my own happiness.