Sometimes, I take spells where I just wallow in my self pity and drown my sorrows with ice cream and other comfort foods. I can’t explain why I get this way. I can be totally fine one minute and the next I just want to punch the next person who looks at me wrong in the face. (Believe it or not, I am not a violent person.) I get in a slump and I am too busy licking my self inflicted wounds to dust myself off and at least try to act like a normal person. I simply refuse when I am in pity party mode.
The funny thing about pity parties though is that everyone has them, but no one cares when you are having yours, which in turn ticks you off even more. The only people that seem to understand you is Ben and Jerry. Hey, they don’t judge. Everyone gives you hypocritical advice on how to snap out of it, but they seem to forget these things when they are in their own rut. Kind of ironic.
For the most part, pity parties should consist of one person. It’s just better this way. No one needs to see you crying your eyes out because Gilligan still can’t get off of that fake island as you clench your diploma and sing “Achy Breaky Heart” for the fourteenth time between mouthfuls of cheese puffs. It’s not attractive. Or normal for that matter. You become the emotional roller coaster that manages to suck the happiness out of everything in its path.
The good thing about pity parties is that they normally last one day tops and the next morning you forget why you were sad to begin with. Looking back, you might actually get a good laugh out of it. So no matter how bad of a pity pickle you are in, always keep in mind that it will be over soon enough. Now if you will excuse me, I have a chocolate cake that is calling my name. I think Double Divas is on too…
Loads of Love,