Is it petty for a host to resent a lack of reciprocation?
DEAR CAROLYN: I feel like the world’s pettiest person for even writing this, but it really has been eating away at me.
My husband and I are relatively successful people and make a decent living for our area.
Annually, we throw a couple of parties, spring and winter, and despite our small house, we host 30-plus people for each.
I really do (did?) enjoy having these parties. I like that it gave me an excuse to prep my yard for summer or decorate for Christmas. I’m an extrovert, enjoy having people over, and really enjoy menu and party planning.
Here’s the rub: I don’t feel like my husband and I receive any reciprocal invitations for dinners, drinks, outings from our friends. We put out significant time, effort and no small amount of money on these events, and this year it just feels unappreciated.
We also have been having weekly family dinners with my father- and sister-in-law since my mother-in-law passed away after a long illness. We handle all expenses, and I handle all the cooking myself. I’m happy to host, really. It’s a small kindness for a man who lost his wife all too soon and is otherwise alone.
At the same time, I just feel unappreciated, and there’s no way to ask for a little [bleeping] gratitude for the time, effort and expense without sounding like a whiny [glass bowl].
So what’s the best way to handle stupid petty resentment when I’m resenting doing the things I love to do for people I (generally) love, or at least like a whole lot?
— Anonymous DEAR READER: I was prepared to agree with you, but I don’t think you’re being petty.
Yes, you have so many things to be grateful for, but that doesn’t mean you never get to feel tired or frustrated or taken for granted.
I was also prepared to line up a bunch of practical adjustments to help blunt the resentful feelings. Take your father-in-law out to dinner or order takeout, for example, to lighten your workload a bit. Or, rethink the parties and consider whether you get as much from them as they take away. Or, list the things your friends do provide, in lieu of hosting you — laughs, good conversation, a buffer against loneliness. There are many things you can do on the margins to rebalance your friendships and feelings.
But what I’m thinking now is bigger, because a second look at the underappreciation complaint tells me you’re really just Tired. Capital T. And if you look at this merely as a situation that needs tweaking, you might miss the bigger fatigue and wind up with the same empty feeling you struggle with now.
So my advice is to put Change — capital C — on the table. Those decent livings you earn and the parties you throw and the friends you invite and the supports you extend to others are all wonderful things. And even wonderful things can stop working for us over time, or at least not satisfy an ache for meaning that has evolved in spite of us.
If you’re not sure where to start, then just sit still for a bit.
Sit with the idea that it might be time for you and your husband to reach, try, ask more of yourselves and your lives. I’m guessing you didn’t get to this point without really reaching when you were younger. This is a later-in-life asking of the same question: What do you want?
Such contemplation is never a waste, even if what you want is exactly what you have. All the tweaks will be there if you need them.
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