One of my biggest fears finally came to fruition. I turned
the BIG 5-0 on Mother’s Day this year. (That’s not the fear.) I put off the big celebration because it was a
busy month and I wanted a big blow out bash to mark the milestone. I spent a
lot of time and effort and money on putting together my perfect birthday party,
only to discover that I must have some inflated sense of self to think that
people I love would join me to honor my half century of life. (Sarcasm)
It’s the classic cliché’ – a sad, insecure, unpopular girl
plans a party and invites all the cool kids. Hours later, she sits amid the
uneaten chips, dips, appetizers and snacks, dejected and hurt that no one showed
up. That’s what happened to me. On the night I so meticulously planned, lots of
people stood me up. It’s bad enough getting stood up just one person, but
25?!?! That cut to the bone. It did a little tap dance on every insecurity I ever
had about myself.
I think I did a pretty good job of covering up, to the four
people who did show up, that I was disappointed and hurt. Everything was so
beautiful and my two closest friends were there, so I made the best of it for
as long as I could. I hoped that my friends, The Amazingparents, and Crazy Nurse,
didn’t notice how disappointed I was at the turn out. But, seriously, how could
they not? I’m grateful to them for not mentioning it. I felt like such a loser.
I ordered food – enough for 25 people: cocktail shrimp,
stuffed mushrooms, cheeses, veggies and tasty chicken salad in freakin’ phyllo
cups!! I provided two free drink tickets to everyone, so I paid for the
alcohol, too! I set up a candy buffet in all the theme colors and the party
took place in a beautiful VIP lounge on a rooftop bar in an historical downtown
hotel. My friend, Doc, paid for decorations and other little party accoutrements
to make it a special occasion. I felt horrible that she spent so much for no
one to enjoy.
What I felt most was humiliation. I was embarrassed that I
made such a big deal about the excitement of turning 50, holding out hope that
the people I cared for would want to share that excitement with me. The brave
face I put on weighed so heavily that as I began to pack up all the pretty
little doo-dads and gee-gaws, I felt a tear slowly travel down my cheek. I
turned away so that no one could see my sadness. I hid my mortification until I
made it to my car, then I cried.
I can take rejection….but humiliation is a killer.
