Party Time

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My husband did a great job at work in 2021, reaching heightened goals, and he is being recognized at a party Friday night, two days from now. The company provides everyone who makes “The President’s Club” a room at a very nice resort not far from where we live. Check-in will be followed by appetizers & drinks and dinner. We’re also celebrating my husband’s birthday so we’re looking forward to a staycation.

On the other hand, I’ve spent the past two years at home after suicidal depression collided with COVID. It’s been a fuckin’ long time. In 2022 alone, I started with two weeks of COVID and moved onto four months, so far, of broken ankle/surgery/healing/recovery, up to the present day. This Friday night party will be a convergence of: 1. my first event with a crowd since I was with the masses receiving vaccines early on 2. longest hours being up & out and 3. the most time on my ankle, by far, since surgery with hardware (even though I will be seated for most of the evening). Wow. That’s like a black hole of my own little personal events sucked into the larger event.

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Only a fraction of the people attending will be familiar with me, but even those folks haven’t seen me at my new, highest-ever weight. A close friend reminded me that what other people think about me is none of my business, and I realize that the amount of time anyone else actually thinks anything at all about me will be the merest of ticks on the clock. Desiring to be comfortable, I confess to giving my preparation for Friday night considerably more time and attention than I have paid to anything since my wedding 30 years ago. I’m girding my loins. (I tickle my own humerus sometimes!)

When I began this blog, I committed to myself that I would openly share my experience living every day with fibromyalgia, major depression, and anxiety – my invisible illnesses. So, here we go; my self-image has been battered so over the years that, I kid you not, I’ve been practicing my hair and makeup every day for the past week. What?! I just want to be as self-assured as poible going into the big night. In that same vein, I shopped online for accessories once the dress was chosen. The dress. When I learned of this event, and I mean nearly simultaneously tackling any details of the party, fear pierced my heart and white noise filled my ears as I screamed in my head, “What the fuck am I going to wear?!” And my brain cried.

The day after learning we’d be attending a dinner party with a couple hundred people, I was shopping for a black dress appropriate for me. Oh, the scanning took hours. Three options made it to the final round. I ordered them all, with the intent of returning the two that didn’t make the cut after I saw them on my body in real life. Such a sigh of relief that one of these was the dress! ding ding! I tucked it away in my closet, packaged the runners-up [runner – up (plural runners-up or runner-ups)] and gave them to my husband to return via mail. Although he insists he doesn’t need me to remind him of things every six months, this time I did mention most days that he had 30 days to get those sent off or we’d own ’em. Yesterday, he decided the day had come. I looked up the orders online. Lo, and behold, I have three black dresses.

Next, I planned my jewelry and accessories. More and more hours. Reading reviews, falling down rabbitholes of “customers also bought…” Adding something to my cart, comparing it to another choice, going back. This or that? Like looking through lenses at the optometrist’s shop, and ending up just as dizzy or blurry.

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All right, now. Feeling like I’ve put together what I need to optimize my odds of being myself, my real self, not my doubts or insecurities. We’re staying at the resort all weekend. Most likely, I’ll spend the day after the big night lying in bed, reading the newspaper, generally recovering physically. However, should I handle the party better than expected…. nevermind. Even if I’m not completely wiped out, I don’t need to push myself there. So, aaaaaahhhh, a very relaxing, restful time.

Here’s to a weekend during which I will be mindful, breathe well, and take things slowly. I’ll let you know how it goes, including pics, when I get to the other side! Gotta make it work because I’m sure this is just the first of many celebrations of my husband’s successes. Cheers!

Photo by Kristina Paukshtite on Pexels.com

Published by Sara Z

Writing is one of my passions. Most blog entries are relatively short articles regarding a wide variety of topics. I'm a middle-aged wife and mother of two adult sons. I've been a teacher, counselor, medical transcriptionist, student teacher supervisor, substitute teacher and retail clerk. Staying home now due to fibromyalgia. Seeking purpose.

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