A Pity Party :: Table for One

Yesterday, I invited myself to a party. Yes, I invited myself to my very own pity party, and I sat at a table for one. The music playing in the background was the song by Moving Pictures, “What About Me”.

“I want my share.” I thought to myself. “I’m tired of being overlooked.”

My husband is a tall man. My husband is an attractive man. My husband is a kind man. My husband is quiet and reserved. My husband is admired and liked by many. I am jealous of my husband.

Though I am active in the lives of others, though I am liked by many, I remain in the shadow of my husband. Maybe that is where all good wives are found – within the shadow of their husbands.

The bloggers I follow are entertaining writers. The bloggers I follow are excellent writers. The bloggers I follow are recognized and admired by many. I am jealous of the bloggers I follow.

Though I am active in the blogosphere, though I am told by many that I am a good and entertaining writer, I remain in the shadow of the bloggers I follow.

As I joked in my 10 Reasons Why I Do Not Have Friends, there was a time when I was outgoing. There was a time when I was a hit. There was a time.

Well, I do not want to sing and dance. I just want to write. I do not want to yell and scream. I just want to write. I want to sit quietly and do what is expected, do what should be done, and care for those around me. I want to do all of those things, but when I see others getting the credit and attention for doing the same things I am doing, I get jealous.

My husband is a tall man. The bloggers are entertaining writers. My husband is an attractive man. The bloggers I follow are excellent writers. Surrounding myself around attractive and talented people leaves me feeling ignored, forgotten, and invisible.

I do not mind being a plain Jane; in fact, I enjoy my plain Jane nature. I do not have the energy required to be a vibrant Velma. Still, I do not like the feeling of being overlooked.

I am grateful for the blessings in my life, and I have a great many blessings. Alas, as Moving Pictures’ Alex sings, “… sometimes, I wish for more than I’ve got.”

As I watched the sun set behind the trees, I knew it was time to clean up my table for one and head home. After all, I had a tall, handsome husband and two adorable kids waiting for me with smiles and hugs. Life is good, even amidst an occasional pity party.


39 thoughts on “A Pity Party :: Table for One

  1. my dear, you are no plain Jane! You are a vibrant, beautiful, funny, thought provoking woman whom I am glad to call friend. I haven’t met your husband, but I bet he feels that he is in your shadow 🙂

  2. Plain Jane is the last description I would use for you, but I understand where you’re coming from and I respect your feelings on that. We all have our moments…you saw the video from Friday so you saw my sister and you saw me. I have a mini pity party every time I am near her and she is my favorite person in the entire world. I’m putting that video out there and I’m thinking, “Sorry I’m so hugely FAT. You didn’t know THAT did you?” but I’m keeping it to myself but truthfuly, though some may think, “Hmm, surprising,” hopefully they are more focused on what I’ve had to say, I love your honest and funny writing and I’m sad that you don’t do more of it. Joe asked me this weekend, whatever happened to your short off-the-cuff ramblings that you used to post all the time? It’s none of our business what others think. We have to just keep putting it out there. It’s therapeutic, it’s fun and it may not win us any awards but it’s an outlet that we need.

    1. I know, you’d probably use “Psycho Sally”, right? HahaHA!
      I have been known to have mini-pity parties when I am with my siblings at parties outside the family. I am fine on my own, but when I am around others that shine loudly – I tend to step back and lean against the wall. I envy their ability to work a room.
      You are absolutely correct, Kim. Writing is an outlet I need, and I need to keep my therapy sessions active – regardless of any or lack of any accolades.
      And with regards to the video… though you looked beautiful, I was not focusing on your looks. Completely caught up in the wonderful celebration of what was taking place, I found myself listening intently trying to get the sound of your voice. THAT is what I want to know. Vlog, please. Pretty pretty please. Or call me. Nope. Wait. Scratch that. Vlog please.

  3. I wish I had a blog award or a tiara or something shiny that would remind you that you are more special than your party crowd was giving you credit for. Chin up, li’l buckaroo. 🙂

  4. I have attended the exact same pity party. I think it is a necessary part of life for many of us and in the long run gives us appreciation and perspective. You expressed it perfectly. Hugs 🙂

    1. Thank you, Bella. I hesitated writing about my pity party, but I decided it was – using a word Kim used – therapeutic. I wrote the post while sitting in my car at a park. The weather was lovely, and I felt good letting these thoughts outside of my head. Thank you for the hugs. Accepted. Back at you, too.

  5. I know exactly how you feel, and have had that pity party myself. Add in a job where I get to do an awful lot of the hard work that others get to take credit for, and the invisibility that comes with being a middle-aged woman in a youth-obsessed culture. Here’s a cyber hug – from another in the shadows.

    1. Thank you for the cyber hugs. Because hugs give back – consider yourself hugged, K8. I love how you cannot give a hug without getting a hug.
      When I wrote this post (on paper, believe it or not), I started off with the thought of a mid-life crisis. I was going with the idea that a mid-life crisis is not just for men. Funny that you mentioned it (kind of, with your middle-age mention) in your comment. Great minds, K8. Great minds.

      1. I do feel a little more invisible each day that passes…I think it comes from being past the
        “Mommy” stage and being admired and appreciated (mostly) for that work, and not quite old enough to be the crazy white haired old woman who can say and do whatever she wants…that and being surrounded by so many talented and beautiful souls.

        Thanks so much for the hug – you are right – great minds.

    1. Well, isn’t that special?! 😀
      I know, I know, different lady. Same show, though! Your smart enough and good enough, too, Oma. And gosh darn-it, people like you.

  6. And here I was being jealous of you. I have been thinking this girl can really write and she seems to stay in contact with everyone. Why can’t I do what she does? Maybe I need to get a tall and handsome husband even though I am married to a perfectly good husband with a balding head.

    Just keep up your good work. That is why we all keep coming back.

    1. Oh Karyn, your comment took me aback. Jealous of moi? Surely you jest. 🙂
      Thank you for your encouragement. I am grateful you (and others) keep coming back.

  7. Oh bother! Here goes again. Sorry if you get a duplicate…

    That pity party is the story of my life! I’ve always felt invisible to a certain extent. To this day, it takes me a few weeks of knowing someone new to get over the surprise that he or she recognizes me.

    I was also excited when I saw Moving Pictures, thinking, “Cool, one more thing we have in common!” Then I realized you weren’t referring to the Rush album 🙂

    1. Ha! Well, there is plenty more going on in my head, Steve. Pull up a chair. 🙂 Should you and my husband ever meet, I am quite certain the two of you would get lost in conversation. Hopefully, your Beloved would talk to me. Or, I’ll just pat Penny. 🙂

  8. There are moods that come and go, thanks to being of the female persuasion. There are seasons of life that bring change, yet in each season, a new part of the growth process is undertaken. You are becoming. 🙂
    “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” Anais Nin

    1. You are exactly right, Patti. These moods do come and go. I felt the need to get this particular mood out, because of how it was sparked. I wanted to let go of it vs. reliving the moment over and over again. It felt good to write. I liked the end result.

  9. I have often had my own pity party of one. Nothing wrong with that but you need to know that I think you are so talented and so much more than talented. I am sending hugs and my tiara straight over so you can bask in its glow and enjoy the sparkles! It might change your mood!!!

  10. Hi,
    I think we all go through times like this when we are feeling down, but I am sure it will pass, and there will be smiles again. 🙂

  11. Hopefully today you are realising how good you are and how you are not overlooked by your friends and family (including those friends in the bogosphere. Thanks for the link to the video. I hadn’t heard of that singer or song before. 🙂

    1. The song is from the early 80s. I believe they are from Australia. My blogging friends have lifted my spirits, Judith. I knew they would. You all are great like that.

  12. Lenore, when you say you feel overlooked, is that because your husband is so tall and can look over your head? (Trying to make you laugh.)

    You have those pity parties whenever you want, girl! But can you invite me and all of the bloggers who have commented above? We would have SO MUCH FUN commiserating! (My most recent pity party lasted three months, when I stopped blogging.) And let’s invite Oma so he can be our entertainment and make us laugh. His Stuart Smalley video cracked me up. I loved Daily Affirmations.

    You are a FANTABULOUS writer and creative person, Lenore! I love your blog! I hope you’re feeling better. Isn’t it nice to know we have so many blogging buddies, when the “real” world doesn’t acknowledge us? We don’t overlook one another – it’s really quite amazing. And it isn’t because, secretly, bloggers are all pygmies. (As far as I know.)



  13. What do you mean, table for 1? I don’t know if everybody goes through these bouts of self-doubt and self-pity, but I sure as hell do. Then I remind myself of all my blessings and have to add the certain knowledge that I am an ungrateful wretch to my list of shortcomings.

    You have special gifts, Lenore – don’t every forget how special you truly are!

  14. I don’t have to go to that party, because I NEVER LEFT it.
    *comp comp chomp*
    (Seriously – I’ve completely banished the thought of EVER being F.P.’d, – I nearly laugh myself into hysterics just thinking about that – and, although I’m always very happy to see other bloggers do well, I do secretly wish I didn’t LITERALLY have to go 5 years to pull their 6 month numbers *sigh* Whatev.)

    1. So… this comment was intended to be complimentary of your blogging skills, but somehow I managed to turn it around and make it all about me. See how I did that?!
      *chomp chomp chomp*

    2. Hahaha! I’m finding my pity-party table for one is a crowded table. Meh. That’s Okay. The more the merrier. Not that I am merry folks are having pity parties. 🙂

  15. I too long to be a recognized writer/blogger. You, my friend, are an excellent writer. You have improved so much since I first started reading. Hope your party has ended, although sometimes deserved, pity parties shouldn’t last too long.

    1. Angel, your words mean a great deal to me. I am truly touched at your compliment regarding my improvement. Thank you for your long-time readership.
      You are an incredible writer. Your Dad’s gift is clearly alive in you.

  16. Well, I guess all the feedback you’ve gotten has straightened out your crazy plain Jane ideas about your little self! Sometimes we all have to slide off into a small little pity party. Afterall, if we don’t pitty ourselves, who the heck will do it for us? Obviously not your friends, fans, and followers. Even when you’re feeling lower than snake poop, you are a magnificent and honest writer. Stick that in your pity cake and eat it. 😉

    1. Yes ma’am. I’ve been straightened out. (smile) I’m still a plain Jane, though. That fact remains in tact.
      Stick that in your pity cake and eat it…. you crack me up, Linda. thank you!

That was my thought on the matter. Your comment?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s