It’s my Birthday…yay…Yes that is sarcasm.
I used to like Birthdays, the one day of the year I got to do whatever I wanted and excuse myself because it was my birthday. By whatever I mean I didn’t have to do dishes, clean or even cook dinner if I wanted because it was my stinking birthday (I know wow you got Crazy for your birthday’s Kelly)…I usually did do it because I am a mom and you don’t get a day off cause it’s your birthday, but it was the thought “Hey it’s my birthday that dish can wait.”
Last year for my birthday I was faced with the knowledge of Father Time knocking on my door, and it sucked…it sucks…when your husband has an affair with a younger woman, and you get stuck with issues of aging. I have a lot of issues thanks to the affair, whole lot of crap to sift through, and it stinks, having to sift through crap.
He got sex with a fat ugly woman, and I got to shift through shit, like a woman whose toddler ate her wedding ring…you know you have to catch every piece and break it apart, get your hands covered in shit to save that piece of your marriage, and yet at times you wonder as your hands are covered in feces…why not just buy a new one? Replace the old ring with a new one you know wasn’t ever covered in shit…at times while dealing with all the issues he has given me with his actions I have thought about just throwing him out, like he threw out our wedding vows, and washing my hands. My birthday as I’m dealing with my new aging issues is one of those times.
I’m going to age, can’t stop it so I’d better figure out a way to deal with it, make my peace with it and move on. This year I have chosen the “Healthy Choice” of not having a birthday. I have let my husband know “You don’t get to acknowledge it” no gifts, no party, no candles to blow out. it’s just an ordinary day.
My choice and it sucks. I had plans for my 40th Birthday of a big party with all my friends, a hot guy jumping out of my cake, kids running around laughing (can you have kids and a male stripper? Don’t judge me this was my fantasy), food galore, with balloons and a clown making them into animals for the kids and inappropriate shapes for the adults. It was gonna be a party…my party as I celebrated 40 years on this earth, growing old and not caring what the number was, embracing it with grace with my friends and family around me.
Instead it will pass quietly, with a few tears, and a desire to not age. If my husband didn’t love me enough at 37, what chance does 40 have…Issues. So I can either sit here in the dark on the morning of my birthday and have another meltdown/pity party for one or I can make a wish and blow out the candles with you…my friends who stop be everyday to make sure I’m not lost here in the dark, making sure I keep moving forward on my journey.
My wish for me?
I wish you’d stop crying this year Kelly, that someday you wake up and realize all the reasons for sad tears are gone, and all that’s left are happy ones.
I wish you’d finish sifting through all the issues in your life, I’m so tired of shit under my nails.
I wish you’d dance in your kitchen again, while no one else is home just you and the cat, till you are out of breath and exhausted.
I wish you could put your kids pictures back up on the mantle where they go, and look at them with no pain in your heart.
I wish you would love more and hate less.
I wish you’d let go of all the anger and find peace.
I wish you would heal till there’s only a slight scar where your once broken and bleeding heart sat in your chest.
I wish you’d never hear her whiny annoying voice in your head again.
Hell if I’m wishing?
I wish with my eyes squeezed shut, and with the last of my birthday breath that she slips today on the ice and breaks her fat ass, I know not really a healing wish…but it’s my birthday, and if Hugh Jackman can’t jump out of my Birthday Cake (wearing his wolverine outfit from X-men) then I at least get one wish to make me smile…
ing with me friends “Happy Birthday, Dear Kelly…Happy Birthday to you!!! And many more…even if your husband slept with a whore…left you with issues… let me get you some tissues…stop crying It’s your birthday!! You look like a monkey and you smell like one too…no seriously you smell like shit? Did you wash your hands?”
Next year Hugh better jump out of that damn cake…