*Note: this is not meant to be serious – mostly.*
I have always loved to make lists. I write them on Post-its daily, on the refrigerator (which I use as a whiteboard), on napkins, and during a brief stint in elementary school, I would even write them on walls. And I haven’t included one here, yet. I don’t know how that happened, but it’s time.
Also, just so you know, I’m doing this backwards. I 110% plan to complain (again) about something on here soon. I’m about due, I think.
But first, so we’re all clear about how this thing works, I’d like to educate you, via itemized list, on the joy that is the throwing of a pity party. (“Pity? Party of one? Pity! Party of one!”) Also, to be even more accurate, you need to know this is Biblical. I’m not making this up. If you don’t believe me, read 1 Kings 19. You’ll see the theme.
So, without further adieu, here it is. The List:
How to Throw the Best Pity Party Ever
1. Make sure you’re alone. Invite no one else. No one – not your dog, cat, child, spouse, bff, squad, nana, not a single other living creature, not even your houseplant. You cannot properly be pitiful if you’re with someone or something else that is alive. They’ll either try to join you, dividing the pity between you and making you less pitiful, or they’ll comfort you, and you’ll feel less pitiful, which is unacceptable if you’re taking this seriously.
2.Be sure to plan your party food, or lack thereof. Starvation is about as pitiful as you can get, but remember: the angel gave Elijah cake. This is really all about extremes. So if you’re not into that whole starvation chic thing, you’ll need lots of ice cream and chocolate. Cheesecake is also acceptable, but it has to be full-fat. Now is not the time to worry about your health. Healthy people are not pitiful. Also, it needs to be something that might get stuck on your chin or drip onto your shirt. Pitiful people wear stained clothing.
3. Find a pitiful place to be, and go there. (And if you really want Biblical accuracy here, you need to find a pitiful tree to sit under – preferably one that’s well over half dead and makes the Charlie Brown Christmas tree look like a bountiful Douglas Fir.)
4. Bemoan your fate and wallow – deeply – for a while.
5. If you still feel like you could do better, find a darker and more pitiful place. Caves are great for this. No cheating and taking lights. Total darkness is key.
6. Continue to wallow. Even better, claim to be the only person that has ever gone through anything remotely like your situation, and tell God how awful it is. Repeat it to him often until he believes you.
7. Don’t be surprised when he tells you to shut up, suck it up, and get up and get back to work.*
*Now, at this point, you have two choices. You may choose to end the pity party, knowing you have truly given it a valiant effort, and move on with life. On the other hand, you can choose to become offended that God doesn’t believe how pitiful you are, and the downward spiral can continue and/or repeat. You do you. I won’t judge.
(That’s a total lie. I probably will judge. I’m not a saint, after all. But I won’t judge you to your face; I’ll make sure to comfortably judge you behind your back. Cross my heart and hope to spit. I say ‘spit’ because I’m too young to die.)