Yesterday, for some inexplicable reason, I decided to clean
out my documents file. This is only strange because I have so many other, much
more important things I should have been doing. While deleting and moving
documents, I found a whole bunch of unfinished blogs, or blog ideas, going back
to 2010, some of them, the older ones were really awful. I was so full of anger
and negativity, even though I had read Lynn Grabhorn’s book Excuse me, your Life is waiting the year
before, I was still operating with some seriously closed valves. Okay, granted my life had
gotten a little better by 2010, but I was still harboring a lot of animosity
towards everyone involved in the now
infamous ‘Trip that shall not be named’ – maybe we should just call that whole
adventure Voldemort and get it over with.
Anyway – by this point in my life I had been evicted from the
guesthouse because I couldn't pay the rent (a blessing in disguise), gone through the hell of total unemployment for two full years, had
been technically homeless for a month, and was living in the converted carport
of the place I nicknamed ‘scary house’. I lived in that one room from August
2009 until June of 2011 when I moved into my current home. I am not going to
post those really hateful blogs, although I am not going to delete them either,
because they serve as a reminder to me of how far I have come in improving my
attitude and my life. The offending parties can read them after I’m dead. I am
however, going to post some of the stuff from 2011 onward, because – well, just
because I want to and I can. I’m pretty well aware that nobody reads these blogs anyway
so what difference does it make.
I am going to start this nostalgic adventure with a blog
from my birthday in 2010, by this point I was not quite as bitter as earlier
points, just a little bit sour. I am not editing anything, and will try to post
one (or more if they are short) of these old blogs every day until they run
out.
14 November 2010 – Happy Birthday to me
And in the end it turns out to be just another day - with
cake.
Once again, I had a very disappointing birthday. Oh, it
wasn't a total washout like years past; a couple of my friends here in Naples
jumped on the bandwagon. Dana planned a
little party for Friday night that would have been nice if anyone had shown up.
But, at the last minute everyone had good excuses why not to, and it ended up
being just me and Dana. But we had fun, she brought the cake complete with
“happy, happy, joy, joy” paper plates and happy birthday candles. The cake had
my name on it - I have never had a cake with MY name on it that someone
put there especially for me - I still haven't cut it.
Saturday I was recuperating from Friday night - Dana, being
the angel that she is, brought me an emergency hangover recovery kit with
chicken noodle soup, saltines, Gatorade and animal crackers. I spent the day having my own vampire movie
marathon with ‘Bram Stoker’s Dracula‘, ’Interview with the Vampire’, and ’Queen
of the Damned’. They are way better than any ’Twilight’ movie I have seen so
far.
And then there was yesterday - where I awoke with the
anticipation of hearing from my loved ones - as usual I was delusional. Julie came over after work and we went
shopping where I bought my own birthday presents - and a xmas tree, but that
will be another story.
But that was it! When I got home from shopping I walked up
to Starbucks to use the wifi and I had a bunch of greetings from my facebook
friends, which I thought was awesome, but not a damned thing from ANY member of
my immediate family. Nobody called. Apart from Dana, who sang happy birthday to
me on my voicemail.
I don't know why I get so upset about this. I don't know why I even anticipate anything
from them. And God knows I am not asking
for much - just a phone call once a year to say “Hi, nice that you were born,
glad you're still alive”. But no, I don't even get that.
And seriously, why would I even expect such a thing? I don't
remember one single birthday party being thrown in my honor as a child - I
remember several celebrations for my brother though. My first ex-husband thought his birthday was
the be all and end all of everyone else’s lives, but he would never stoop so
low as to remember that I even had one.
In fact, in reality I don't think he ever even knew when it was. I remember on my 40th birthday
that my second ex-husband didn't even acknowledge it all day long, but when I
went to bed there was a sappy card on my pillow - when asked why he waited all
day long to give it to me he said “I didn't think you would want to be reminded
that you are getting old”. My Mother
sent me a dozen red roses though, which touched me to the point of tears,
because my Mother could not afford to buy a dozen roses. And I'm sure if she were still alive she
would have at least called me.
I will admit that I am remiss at sending cards, I have never
forgotten anybody’s birthday, but I very often don’t know what day it is. And in recent years money has been so tight
that there have been times when I couldn't afford to eat let alone send a
birthday present, but I have never not called my siblings or my children on the
day of their birth to wish them a happy birthday.
So, once again, a day that should have been fun turns out to
be a total downer - every time I have ever tried to get excited about it or
plan anything it ends up blowing up in my face. Perfect example - my 60th
birthday. I was so excited about that B-I-G birthday that I planned to go on a
cruise to celebrate. But that was the
year that I lost my job a month before my birthday and ended up having to cancel
my LIFE! And people wonder why I hate my birthday so much! Why get excited? I
know how it’s going to turn out, with me being disillusioned, disappointed and
upset. In fact, one of my first picture
blogs was about this very same subject. It was pretty good - most of the
pictures have disappeared now, that was before I discovered how to save them to
my photobucket account.
All this brings me to the age old question - the meaning of
life. Obviously MY life has no meaning
for anyone other than me. And quite frankly, at this stage in the game, I don't
give a crap either. Aren't we all
supposed to have a purpose? A gift? I can't seem to find mine. Everything I have ever wanted to do,
everything I have tried to achieve, has failed.
At this point, I am too shell shocked to even attempt to do ANYTHING! People - other than my family that is - seem to like me. I don't understand why, I find myself
gratingly annoying personally. But I have a handful of really good friends that
I have had for decades and that are really special to me. After all, what is
that old saying? “You can't pick your family but you can pick your friends.” And
there was something about not being able to pick your friend’s nose too, but I
think that line was added by a 15 year old boy somewhere.
I suppose this is how it is going to be then - I will end up
old and alone and die in my bed with nobody knowing about it and my cat will
eat off my face.
Remind me not to get a cat!
