We’ve probably all heard the saying “time heals all wounds.” While it may not heal all for all, time can take away the initial sting of an injury, whether that injury is physical or emotional. Such it is for me; a little bit of time has allowed the initial sting of an emotional injury enough that I can finally address it.
Two weeks ago today, I reached a milestone: I turned 50. For some, entering any new decade can be traumatic. I chose early on to embrace it and I chose to do so by throwing myself a party.
At first, my plans were BIG! After all, a milestone by definition is “an important event or turning point.” I believe turning 50 qualified for that and was certainly worth celebrating in a big way. Although I don’t generally seek the spotlight, I was ready to step out and onto center stage: Fifty guests for my 50 years, a pictorial stroll through my five decades, clever games, a room filled-to-overflowing with friends and family who cared for me enough to be there….. Yes, those were only a few of my first thoughts on what my party might look like.
As time drew near, my quest for center stage dwindled. I wasn’t getting many (hardly any) responses and I began to panic that my “big event” was big only to me. To save face, I wished I could scrap the whole thing and get the hell outta Dodge. Many of the people I’d most wanted to be there were bailing left and right. There were some who had what I believed to be legitimate reasons -- distance, illness, etc., but my special night was being forfeited for a sports game, weariness, a little life drama, a last-minute family outing -- all things, in my selfish opinion, that could happen some other time (certainly NOT once-in-a-lifetime events!) and didn’t hold a candle to my milestone. “It’s okay,” I told myself, “maybe on the next 50.” Except, as we should all know, that ‘next 50’ doesn’t usually happen.
I tried to be gracious. I tried to be understanding. I tried not to take it personally but I couldn’t help but think of the line from “You’ve Got Mail” -- “It may not be personal to you, but it is personal to me.”
The night of the event, I prepped for my party holding onto some expectation there would be last-minute, non-RSVPers popping through the door with celebratory exclamations of well-wishes. After all, that is how it tends to be here in Big Creek. It was not to be. Aside from two dear girlfriends who helped make the evening happen, there were 8 other guests. Eight. “Is this all that is coming?” I whispered in my friend‘s ear. Yes, that was all.
There was a hearty lesson to be learned from this, and I have not missed it. In the past, I have received invitations for birthdays, baby showers and other celebrations. And, for my own selfish reasons, I have too often chosen not to go. After experiencing my own disappointment, though, I will give great and sincere consideration before making any decision, especially a negative one. After all, if I receive an invitation, I should assume it is because I am wanted there. If someone thought enough of me to include me, I should think enough of them to be there.
