Pity Parties

It was to be a glorious, much anticipated night away. I had attempted to accomplish this simple task the Friday night before but we were slammed by a winter blizzard and there was no way I was risking my life on the 417 for a night away. I did entertain the possibility of going anyway until I heard the emergency vehicle sirens blaring down the road. What is that saying? “When you make plans, God laughs.” Well, let’s just say God had a good laugh at my expense that day. I will admit, though, I was ripping mad. I really, really, really wanted and needed and looked forward to this night away. I had grand plans (there’s that word again!) to spend the day wandering a quaint area of the city, meeting a friend for lunch with her new baby and then meeting two other friends for Thai food. I was planning to sleep over and sleep in (oh, how I craved that possibility!). The next day I was going to wander around and take my time finding my way home.  This day had been planned for a couple of months as it was quite the feat getting two friends with busy schedules plus myself available for a night out. And then, well, the skies opened up and the freezing rain and blowing snow sealed my fate.

But, in my life, I always have a plan B. I quickly checked in with my gal pals and sure enough they were free the following Friday and so we spent another week anticipating our big night out.

Friday came and before I knew it I was on the road and on my way to a big 36 hours away from home! I was a bit late leaving as I had to spend some time returning calls to some new mamas but finally, I was in the car driving to the city. I did not drive my van because it was making funny sounds the day before and so to be on the safe side, I took my husband’s car. Yep, you know where this is going……

I finally arrived in the city and headed for my favourite lunch spot. Such fun to sit and quietly eat lunch, uninterrupted. This was followed by   hanging out at my favourite bookstore. The day was going perfectly well until I noticed the car was ‘wobbly’ as I drove down the street. It seemed worse when I drove slowly and so I did the next logical thing. Since I was stopping by a friend’s house, I had her partner take it for a drive to see if he could tell what was wrong.

I will jump ahead here to spare you the details but long story short: the car was in need of two new tires and was not safe to drive. And so my afternoon of strolling around in a wonderful area of the city was no longer in the plans. Instead I had to have two tires replaced which cost over $400 (do not ask….the explanation will make you cry). I also had to wait around until the job was done and then race across town to get to my friend’s house to be ready for dinner for 6pm. My daydream of poking around a quaint neighbourhood, stopping for tea and leisurely reading a non-fiction novel to my heart’s content went down the tubes. I was not impressed. But what actually put me over the edge was the realization that I was put on the spot and there was a more logical, less expensive solution to the tire problem. I am usually brilliant when it comes to dealing with emergencies and finding solutions….at least that is what I had thought. I was really angry at the fact that my second attempt at having 36 hours to myself was being compromised.

My dear friend, Patty (not her real name), suggested we go for tea while we waited on the repairs. I walked into the tea shop and the sweet, salesperson approached with some sort of herbal tea with a name like “Rainbows, Sunbeams and Unicorns” or something like that and I felt the rage in me start to boil. I left the tea shop and felt like I might explode. While I was feeling like this, I was also observing my reaction as though I were a bystander. I mean, really? Get a grip.

There were no grips to get. I was ripping mad and my friend, who has known me since I was 14 years old suggested we just walk. As she tried to console me and have me look on the bright side of things, I suddenly crumbled. There I was walking up the middle of this side street lined with beautiful cookie cutter homes with Dodge Caravans parked in the driveways spewing out my frustrations. It went something like this:

“I am sick and tired of always having to be strong and put on a happy face. I wake up every single, bloody day with a smile on my face and a positive attitude. I spend every minute of every day caring for someone whether it be our daughter, my husband, our daughter’s caregivers, the night nurses, the house, clients, friends, family and….(**there was more but I cannot remember the rest**). And the one day, THE ONE DAY, I plan for myself to just relax and hang out, the stupid - insert swear word of your choice- car had to break down. Like it couldn’t break down on the other 45 days my husband has driven it in the last two months. Oh no, that would be too convenient.”

At this point, I was feeling sorry for myself, I was snottin’ and bawlin’ and having a full on Pity Party. My dear friend, who earlier on had been instructed to please just listen and let me vent, walked beside me allowing me the space to just spew out everything that was in my heart….every piece of frustration, rage, heart break and annoyance. She did not “Yabut” me nor did she interrupt, ask questions nor attempt to console me. Instead, she picked up a gigantic piece of icy snow and fired it at a tree with a growl and then encouraged me to do the same. I did and it felt great and then I started laughing. My pity party was short lived but powerful and necessary.

A long time ago, when Meredith was a just a baby, there were some days when I just awoke and felt defeated and exhausted. I was convinced that  my life sucked and that it was going to be a long and horrible life. I learned very quickly that some times these days would arise and that being strong indefinitely was not possible nor healthy. And so began the Pity Party Day which I indulged in whenever the need arose. As time has passed, my  parties have become few and far between. We all need to allow ourselves the odd pity party, though. It is okay to feel really lousy about the ongoing challenges and roller coaster ride that is the life of a parent of a child with special needs. Fighting the urge to just flop on the floor and have a good bawl just creates chaos within. It helps to have a good friend who can listen and suggest helpful therapies like throwing gigantic snowballs at defenseless trees.

How do you care for yourself when you have your own Pity Party?