Back to life, Stuart Smalley style.

I'm having a party tonight. Not a big bash, just a little dinner/gathering with some of my eBay friends. We've known each other for...jeeze, almost 8 years now. We met, of all places, on an eBay chat board. A couple of us live within 5 miles of each other, and it took the worldwide web to introduce us.

We've gone through a lot, as a group. There have been babies born, businesses bought, houses lost, marriages dissolved, personal rebirths...you know, life. But through it all, we've managed to keep in touch. We haven't gotten together, as a group, in a long time though, so tonight should be awesome.

As I get the house ready for my little group of hens, it's dawning on me. I love having parties. I forgot how much.

When you go through traumatic stuff in your life, you tend to put yourself in a box, on a high, dark shelf in the back of some tucked away closet. You put on your game face and plow through the shit that needs to be plowed through. Some of us never remember exactly where we left our old selves, and that's a shame. I'm glad I remembered. Because the old me, for all of my flaws and inconsistencies, was pretty fun.

For a long time, I let what has happened in my life dictate how I live. I was dumped by my husband, therefore I felt unlovable. Ugly. Unworthy. My best friend and I broke up, suddenly and without warning. One day we were inseparable, the next day she wasn't talking to me. Therefore I was a lousy friend. Unworthy. I lost control of my finances, lost my house, lost my credit. Therefore I was a lowly member of society. Unworthy.

I started to feel like a leper, untouchable..waiting for the next important person in my life to leave. I missed out on a lot of good times, simply because I didn't feel like exposing myself any more than I had to. Skipped parties, passed on more invitations to more events than you can imagine. Missed class reunions, Silpada parties, concerts. All because of my imagined unworthiness.

And I felt that way, for a long, long time. I walked through my days like a zombie, making sure that the kids were alright, making sure that we had food and clean clothes and a roof over our heads. But over the past few months, I have been waking up. Shaking off the cobwebs and that horrible black cloud of insecurity and self loathing.

I have been having my very own Stuart Smalley revolution inside my head, dammit.

Because I like me. And if those other people don't like me, and choose not to be part of my life, you know what? Their loss. I miss them, more than they will ever know, but it's truly their loss. Yes, Big Daddy, for all of your fuckheadedness, sometimes I miss the old "us". And Big Red, my former BFF? I miss you more than I miss him. Every day. But it is what it is.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go get some ice.

Because I'm having a party for my friends.