Pity Party Parking Only

Today, I felt sorry for myself.  It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, my husband knows the only thing that will pick me up is ice cream, a chick flick, an old hoodie and one of his “come here, sweetheart” hugs.  Luckily, when he came home and saw me in my hoodie, he already knew.  True to form, he came over for one of his amazing hugs, offered to pick up some froyo, and let me continue watching “Say Yes to the Dress”.  After hours at a dealership, finding an issue unresolved, and being overcharged, I was exhausted and decided a “woe is me” attitude was more than fitting for the evening. I hunkered down on the couch, found a chick flick, and suggested he find a buddy or two to have a beer with.  He definitely did not complain.

Tonight’s movie choice- Mrs. Doubtfire.  Actually, it wasn’t much of a choice since it was the only one on tv tonight and it certainly wasn’t the pick-me-up I was hoping for this evening.  It brought up some pretty painful memories and a few tears.  This movie (if I’m not showing my age by now) was first released when I was just a little girl.  I remember seeing it at the drive-in with my sister and father during a summer she and I spent with him in Pennsylvania.  I watched the movie that night lying on one of my grandmother’s quilts, fighting back tears, wondering if my own father ever felt like “Mrs. Doubtfire”; wanting to take back the mistakes he made and whether he’d go as far as “Mrs. Doubtfire” to spend time with us.  Would my dad ever take ownership for his actions, work to repair a broken relationship, and yet always keep us at the center of his life?  I spent that summer and many others, wondering if he’d ever become our own Mrs. Doubtfire.

(The pity party is picking up…)

Shortly after one of the most heart wrenching scenes, I decided to change the channel.  My life, though often like a movie, is not one.  As quickly as I turned off the tv, I changed my attitude.  I can turn on the pity party. I mean, I can really turn it on, but I can also turn it off.  No one decides my attitude other than myself.  So, I can choose to be upset over events I truly have no control over or I can put on my big girl pants, pick myself up off the couch, and realize that my life really isn’t all that bad.  In fact, it’s spectacular.

I sat for hours at a dealership because I am fortunate enough to have my own car.  I was overcharged, but had the means in which to pay the unforeseen bill.  Was I happy about either? Of course not.  But was it really worth an entire evening of pitying myself and missing an evening with my love?  Absolutely not. 

This pity party has officially ended.  Besides, I've run out of ice cream.