23 April 2013

All Partied Out

It's been a massive three weeks.
First there was Mr G's Fortieth, with the surprise appearance from his Mam (from England) to pull off.
Then there was the Bloggers Conference in Christchurch. Taking a workshop, being on the panel. Oh and helping with the redesign/relaunch of the Kiwi Bloggers website.
Finally, the party to end all parties, that Carnival monster.

I'm flippin done in, I tell ya.
Me and my PTSD are coping (just) but the house is a tip and the cleaner quit.
The endless mess and tripping over piles of party stuff and yet-to-be-unpacked bags? Not the best look for your ma-in-law.
But bless her, she hasn't said anything. Just got in and washed my windows, did my dishes, cycled through my piles of dirty laundry. I don't think I would have got through the last couple of weeks without her.

All this build-up of bigness takes its toll on my fragile ego.
This is me being totally honest here people; I am a people pleaser from way back.
So I do this massive party and I long for feedback. Secretly CRAVE it.
Do the comments flow in? No they do not.

It's school holidays, people are busy entertaining their kids, I tell myself.
(Either that or they think your parties are over the top and way too much" a nagging Needlenose voice whispers.)

I try to ignore that little voice, that nagging insecure broken bit inside my sense of self.
I didn't go to all that work so I'd get loads of people commenting on my blog or oohing and ahhing over my photos on Facebook or repinning my pins on Pinterest. Honest.
I did it cos my youngest just turned five, the last kid off to school. End of an era and all that.
Plus he's pretty darn awesome and deserves to be celebrated, bigtime.
("Yeah but part of you still wants people to tell you you did good, that they had fun, that your party rocked," goes Needlenose.)

Sigh. Big deep heavy sigh.
Pardon me, but my insecurity is showing.
Yep, still plenty to work on in therapy!

In the meantime, I will try to keep my self-esteem anchored in something other than the words and praise of other people.
I know I did good.
The birthday boy had a blast (no complaints from him).
His pals seemed to have fun and we "sold out" of EVERYTHING.

AND I never have to do that again. Ever.
The End.

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