You're all invited

Tonight I had decided to throw myself a little pity party. There was only one person on the guest list and I had already RSVP’d a big fat yes.

It’s difficult when you’re playing the role of The Big Bad Break-Up Person to feel like it’s ok to feel a bit sorry for yourself. Or feel crap in general. At the end of the day it was your decision to break-up with someone so you just have to get on with the consequences.

And for the most part I have done. As I’ve said before, as someone that is constantly trying to make sure I’m not offending people with thoughtless comments and actions, it’s been difficult to think about the fact that there are people out there who absolutely hate your guts.

But the fact is this has been hard on me. It wasn’t an easy decision I made and it wasn’t one that I took lightly and there have been real emotional repercussions to my actions. I’ve questioned and re-questioned and over-analysed to the point of tedium every aspect of my personality and who I am and how I act in relationships and am I really the nice person I think I am.

All of this going through my head as well as dealing with trying to move out of the flat (I am now living elsewhere but there is still loads of my stuff at the flat – I need to find homes for it in charity shops and people’s houses etc etc) when I don’t have a car and trying to make head and tail out of my finances (the verdict? Not. good.).

In amongst all of this I’m very aware that people only have so much patience when it comes to listening about your break up woes. And I think that I’m now nearing the end of my time when people listen sympathetically before segueing into “Oh my god she needs to stop talking about this immediately and get over it.”

I feel like I’m a bundle of nervous energy, always just teetering on the edge of spilling over into the abyss. One minute I’m exceedingly ecstatic and full of limitless energy and feeling good about myself and my new life. The next, I want to tell everyone to bugger off and curl up into a small ball and feel very sorry for myself.

Tonight should be Stitch and Bitch night but I decided to stay in and attend the pity party. I feel like I haven’t stopped over the past few weeks and am constantly fretting about how I’m going to move stuff out of the flat or how I’m going to pay for things or how I’m making other people feel. I thought that maybe if I just had a night in where I didn’t have to watch what I said for fear of upsetting or annoying other people I might just give myself time to breathe.

All morning I thought about my pity party. I thought about what I would wear (pjs, obviously), what I would eat (carrot batons anyone? I might feel crap but this diet isn’t going to suffer because of it!) and what I would watch (still undecided).

And then I came back to the office after a meeting and discovered the post man had brought me something special. All the way from the magical land of the blogosphere. From a land called Mooncalf. I had seen these babies in a post the other day and immediately demanded one. I’m like that by the way, my first response when I see something I like is to say “Make me one” like a spoilt brat*. I don’t really mean it, it’s just my way of expressing just how much I like it. Either way e-mails were exchanged, apologies for behaving like a spoilt madam were made and addresses were given and this little guy found his way to Hull.

PB I have been walking round like a janitor with keys to the flat, my new place, my Mum’s keys and my Dad’s keys. This has been a) somewhat embarrassing, as I jangle my way round town, and b) a complete inability to find the actual key I’m looking for.

I needed something to make at least one of them stand out and my little, teeny tiny jumper is the way forward. He now resides on my house key, which really is the most important of the bunch and every time I look at him he makes me smile.

The reason he makes me smile is threefold

a) He’s a brilliant colour

b) Just look at it! It’s a tiny jumper on a key. What about that doesn’t make you smile?

c) It reminds me that there are very very very nice people out there who don’t think I’m a horrible beast.

So I might just cancel the pity party tonight. I think I’ll still stay in but instead will make a concerted effort to not be miserable and not feel sorry for myself and sit in my pjs, eating my carrot batons, watching some kind of crap. And if I start to slide into feeling like that, well I’ll just glance over at my ridiculously large bunch of keys and smile.

Three cheers for the blogosphere.


*although I can hold my hands up and say I kind of am