Superbummer

Superbowl Sunday, 2009 -- So really, should I care? If I watched television at all the last few weeks, I would think that everyone is throwing a great party. Most likely I’m one of the few who didn’t get invited to one. Actually, I know my son and his wife are having a gathering; I was told about it on Friday but not really invited to join them. Maybe my son, by mentioning it, assumed I understood I was included. But I didn’t understand that. It was really not part of the conversation. And unfortunately I’m still proud enough that I prefer not to look or seem pathetic, and too humble to invite myself.

Back when John was alive, we did sometimes get invited to Superbowl parties, though it wasn’t ever an understood, accepted practice. But since I’ve been a single woman, I don’t think I’ve ever really had a Superbowl gathering to attend.

Should this bother me? I suppose it does, but probably not for the right reasons. I do like football and know quite a bit about it (for a girl) -- I used to work for the head football coach of a Pac10 University. I don’t really have a dog in this fight; except the underdog. I like the Cardinals only because they are such huge underdogs. I’ve always preferred the also-rans to the always-theres. I think underdogs give us hope that some day perhaps it will be our own turn, that winning isn’t necessarily a right for anyone, not always a foregone conclusion even for those have been dealt all the power cards.

Obviously, if I cared, I could turn the television on and watch by myself, and I may eventually this afternoon. More likely scenario: I will go to the gym, hoping all the jocks will be somewhere watching the game. I can always catch parts of it on the televisions there if I’m on a treadmill or EFX machine.

But Superbowl Sunday is just another reminder to me that I no longer fit into the old molds any more. That my life is far different from what television ads picture as the norm. Just a couple weeks up the road is another major quagmire I will have to try to slog my way through: Valentine’s Day. Maybe I should just turn the television and radio off and pretend I’m perfectly happy. Actually, most of the time I am perfectly happy and don’t have to pretend. It’s just these challenging special holidays and events that get me occasionally.

So, what am I going to do about this? I can keep telling myself it really has nothing to do with me. Keep busy with things I love and try not to think about other people who, in my imagination at least, are having so much more fun than I. I can write a post for my blog, and work on my book. I can go out and find new hobbies, meet new friends, and find other ways to feel included. I’ve done that to some degree the past few years and have new friends because of it.

I was at a fundraising event last night, invited by a friend who is the friend of friends who have a friend who was recently diagnosed with cancer. I think that’s three degrees of separation? Anyway, this woman apparently has huge medical expenses and possibly no insurance. So her friends (who are my friend’s friends) threw this great event to raise money to help with her medical costs. The woman who is sick has been teaching ballroom dance for years and so all her current and former students and friends gathered for dancing, an auction, and other events. It was lovely to see all those people rallying around their sick friend.

It was also lovely to watch the beautiful ballroom dancing. Viennese waltzes, tangos, quicksteps, cha-chas, swing. It reminded me of when John and I had taken dance lessons many years ago. But although I can dance a little, I did not dance. No one knew me. I avoided eye contact so no one would ask me to dance something I didn’t know how to do. But I wanted to be out there dancing to that wonderful music, floating along as so many of the couples were doing. It felt a little like high school and being a wallflower yet again. So maybe I’ll screw up my courage and go take some ballroom or Latin dance lessons one of these days.

But it’s hard to do those things alone. It was hard to go to the event alone and wander around, trying to find my friend. Feeling lost. Not really knowing anyone else there. So going from my church party a few weeks ago where I knew nearly all the people to an event of about the same size where I knew hardly anyone was a challenge for me. Even going to the gym alone all the time is difficult, though in the long run I know I will be glad I did. So, it is time to do that. I get weighed and measured on Thursday so we’ll see if those three weeks of torture have made any difference. I hope so because I still have seven weeks to go. And I am actually feeling better, my clothes are fitting a little better, and I can do my 45 minutes at a good little incline at a much faster pace now than I could three weeks ago. So I know it is doing some good. It just have to keep with it until it becomes an ingrained habit. Then it will undoubtedly pay good dividends in many ways.