Saturday, September 7, 2013

I am going to call it....

Sick

Time of death for my Birthday Sucktacular is Sept 7. I don't know why I am being so incredibly childish about this but fact is I thought the people in my life actually gave more of a crap about me. I admit it. I had fantasized about someone throwing me a 40th surprise party. When I got divorced I hoped I met someone new that would care about me. Then I thought that maybe one of my wonderful friends would throw something together. I even gave it an extra week after my birthday and nothing. My friends didn't even buy me a present except for a 5 dollar pen from one. There was one friend that did go out of the way. Jen, made me a Tardis cake. And one male friend did give me great presents and i barely know him? Ok, so I got to go away with friends but not a single one offered to pay for anything for my birthday. I know! I get it! I am selfish! I am a child but I am still incredibly hurt. This is not good for my depression. And you know what? I am not going to use my coping skills. I am going to wallow in this.


I asked myself, what from my past would have me so sensitive about birthdays and instantly I remembered a birthday, not sure what year but around elementary level, where we invited I think seven or so friends, a decent amount, and only one friend showed up. 

Since my ex left my birthdays have not been pleasant. The last two I was actually sick with some kind of stomach issue so I couldn't even meet my friend at a local restaurant for lobster like I had done previous years. And this year my son had appointments which meant no fun stuff stuff for me until night. So we went to a local restaurant. Not my favorite and my mom brought a supermarket cake.  I actually throught well this is because they have a surprise party planned. Typing this I can here people yelling at their computers saying to be grateful for what I have. Maybe I am still trying to make up for that birthday from when I was a little kid. 

Well it's over now. Anything now would be out of pity or guilt. I think I am officially done with birthdays. 

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