It’s My Party and I’ll Cry if I Want To

By Aileen Hansen

Watch your thoughts. All your experiences come percolating through your thoughts. It is the company of your thoughts that uplifts or degrades you.

-- Paramahansa Yogananda, Where There Is Light, Self Realization Fellowship, Los Angeles: 1988.

When I was a young kid, we had a nasty little way of dealing with each other’s complaints. When someone started to whine, we would spontaneously chant in unison, “Let’s have a PITY PARTY! One… Two… THREE!” Then, making a sarcastic empathetic sound, we would all shout “Ahhhhhhhh!” Well, some things don’t change. Last weekend I had a pity party all by myself. The miserable episode lasted for two days.

It all began when I performed as one of the narrators in a public production of the Passion of Christ to an audience of several hundred people. Afterwards, feeling freshly exhilarated and pleased with my presentation, I was quite surprised to hear criticism from my husband and daughter. Reluctantly I listened to their comments. Although they agreed that I have a strong speaking voice, they both felt that I was speaking a bit too powerfully, drawing attention away from the several other participants in the production, and especially Jesus, the main character. It was the quintessential metaphor of the narcissistic ego opposing divine humility!

Instead of responding mindfully, I felt defensive and reacted emotionally. Confronting them, I quipped that I had done my best and that their remarks about my foibles were insulting. Disregarding their sincere apologies, I also felt betrayed, judged and ashamed. I began thinking that the people from the audience might be judging me, too. Ruminating upon my “mistakes,” I managed to feel self-conscious and stupid.

Teary-eyed, I sulked, and the pity party began. I slammed myself with repetitive negative remarks, like a DJ overplaying the top ten hits. Unresolved subconscious thoughts and emotions began surfacing. Naturally, my reaction intensified, becoming disproportionate to the original situation. Irresistibly, I plunged into a self-imposed slump. Irritable and edgy, I withdrew, deliberately avoiding contact with others, going for long walks and running unimportant errands. I willingly surrendered to the dangerous allure of an unholy inner darkness, echoing past mistakes and self-condemning whispers.

Paradoxically, I managed to stay aware and fully conscious of my experience, like the helpless passenger in the backseat of a car driven by a ghoul. Driving deeper and deeper into despair, I immersed myself in the physical sensations of heaviness in my chest. I felt palpable waves of sadness physically wash across my heart. I watched the forceful flow of negative thoughts pass through my mind like subtitles in a pathetic 1/2-star movie. I became fascinated with outrageous thoughts, which I knew were fundamentally false.

On the third morning after my two-day plunge into darkness, my inner light began to mercifully shine, like the rising of the sun at daybreak. Just as quickly as my inner storm came, it disappeared--like vanishing thunderclouds. Upon waking, I felt an inner certainty that somehow this nightmarish experience was my own personal creation-- strangely, for my own benefit. I incisively realized the caustic role that self-pity has played in my life. I humored myself, thinking that indulging in self-pity is much less fattening than indulging in chocolate cake--but it is much less nurturing too.

Grateful to feel even-minded again, I began to reflect upon my lifetime battle with self-pity and self-victimization. Years ago I was oblivious to my proclivity of feeling sorry for myself in times of trial. (I suspect that the payoff has been the self-righteous feeling of being martyred, as though no one else suffers difficulties.) Eventually I began to realize the needless pain that this brooding had caused me, and over time, I semi-consciously began to break the habit.

I have evolved like a deep-sea diver emerging from darkness in the ocean’s depth, slowly ascending to the light on the surface. Over the years, I finally grew wise enough to avoid the lure of self-pity and brooding--with only an occasional indulgence. However, today I know that I need to let it go altogether. I have had enough of useless suffering! Like a sober alcoholic, I am integrating the value of abstaining. I will work at it, no matter how long it takes.

I credit this lesson to yoga, which illuminates my humble journey from darkness to light. I learn to be highly aware through my yoga training. For example, during challenging asanas, I deliberately watch my physical discomforts, mental dialogue and emotional fears; I become a detached witness. Consequently, this training enables me to be highly aware of my body sensations, thoughts and emotions, during various life experiences; I discover that I am developing the ability to observe myself more and more objectively--off of the yoga mat, too.

I may not be able to change the physical, mental or emotional pain of my trials, but I can be fully aware of it. Once the pain passes, I can sort out those thoughts and feelings that I observed. This helps me to view my inner conflicts dispassionately and to problem solve better.

Now that I have clearly identified this self-defeating behavior pattern, I resolve to think nobler thoughts as challenges confront me. Furthermore, I resolve to accept my limitations as I strive to grow beyond them. As I sweep away old mental and emotional debris, I am becoming receptive to deeper peace and joy. It is a relief to have the octopus grip of self-pity disentangled from me! Carefree and lighthearted, I am now off to teach a yoga class. Emotionally, I feel significantly better--but most of all, I am overjoyed that the party is over.

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Aileen Hansen currently teaches Amrit Yoga, an innovative mindful practice, developed by Yogi Amrit Desai, originator of Kripalu Yoga. Two years ago she moved from Lisle, Illinois, to Houston, Texas.