Saturday, March 21, 2009

Pity Party

The interior of a Karaite synagogue (kenesa).Image via Wikipedia

Anonymom is feeling very sorry for herself; I'm-all-alone-everybody-else-has-family-and-friends-nobody-likes-me-sorry for herself. Things will never get better. I will only get older, fatter, lonelier, sicker, poorer.

The party started this morning when I walked to synagogue where a Bat Mitzvah was in progress. The sanctuary was full of the Bat Mitzvah's family and friends. I began thinking, Who will come to Diver's Bar Mitzvah? How will I pay for a lunch? Or a dinner? Or a party? I lasted for about an hour, during which I envied everyone else in the sanctuary; she's got a husband, she's thin, they're rich, her kid doesn't have autism, her parents are still alive, their family gets along, she's healthy, their kid is mainstreamed, she has a job, they never reciprocated the dinner invitation. At which point, I schlepped home, took to my bed and wept; well, squeezed out a tear. We can always have a Bar Mitzvah Pity Party. Don't need friends or family for that.
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  1. Nothing like a Bat Mitvah to bring on a nasty case of the covets. I send cards with inadequate cash gifts myself, because all those "normal" kids and married, thin people give me a case of the howling fantods.

    On the other hand, your Bar Mitvah pity party sounds like my kind of event. I'd bring cheap wine (Manischewitz, anyone?) and my top-shelf whine. My boys can't recite Torah passages, but they'd be happy to recite lines from the Star Wars. L'chayim!

  2. While our circumstances are different, I have felt many of the exact same things. Hope that you makes you feel a little less alone.