Sunday, May 28, 2017

My kind of party

Another weekend, another wedding celebration I'm unable to attend. This is the second family wedding I'll be missing just this month. The second time in just two weeks that I'll be sending a congratulatory card when I'd rather be there face-to-face, offering a warm and enthusiastic hug. But my body is too fragile, too weak and too compromised to even sit through the hour long ceremony let alone dance at the reception.
I remember back to the beginning of my body's seven year long saga. It began right around this time of the year. It was May and that year I went to a wedding and I danced. Oh, how I danced! I danced in heels until my feet were too tired and then I danced barefoot. I stayed until the end of the party and helped shut down the celebration.
That is such a sweet memory but such a distant one, too. If I linger on it for too long I risk letting my heart grow heavy and nostalgic for the way things used to be. The way I used to be. The way I used to look. The energy I used to have. The life I used to enjoy. If I recall for too long and reminisce too deeply about lively parties of my past I'm tempted to throw my own kind of pathetic party.
A pity party.
The trouble with the pity parties is that they never have colorful decorations and bouquets of roses. Pity parties are always woefully devoid of bubbles and no one throws celebratory bird seed. There is no upbeat music, no silly chicken dance and certainly no electric slide. Any cards received are left in the mailbox with messages of sympathy that induce tears of sorrow, not tears of joy. Pity parties end early, often in tears and hopefully without a single picture to recall the event.
Quite frankly, pity parties are lame.
So that is why I am instituting a new rule prohibiting all pity partying. Reminiscing is allowed. Remembering is perfectly acceptable. Sharing sweet memories is even encouraged. But pitying is forbidden. I am no longer allowing myself to bring pity to recollections of parties gone by and I am banning pitying the parties I've missed along way. Instead I am bringing their celebratory party to my pity.
Right here, right now, without a dance floor or an RSVP list I have reason to have a party. While I am at home I am having a party of my own, celebrating the healing that is taking place in my body. I am throwing bird seed in the air and blowing copious amounts of bubble because the cause of my seven year saga has been discovered! I'm playing the electric slide and dancing in my own goofy way because the reinforcements have been called in and they are waging war against the evil disease that has caused my body such pain and agony.
Tonight I am not at a wedding. I wasn't at one last weekend and it may be years before I attend another one. But tonight I'm not at a pity party. Tonight I'm bringing the party to my pity.

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