Blog #45: My Cursed Birthdays--Part one

Ladies and Gentleman my accursed birthday falls every year on July 12; that's right, I know....I'm a pretty transparent cancer as far as cancer's go but, eh what do you know? I'm me. I'm emotional, I'm a hot mess sometimes, but I'm genuine. Normally, I do not like to come out of my safety shell on or leading up to the days of my birthday and here's why. For some reason, every single year, save for a very few precious years that I managed to get a few things I really wanted without anything going wrong---Murphy's law finds me.

Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong.

Oh boy, and I'm not kidding either, but I wish I was.

When I was a young child, no one paid me very much attention (especially not my mother), except for my grandmother who liked to try and make life a little easier for me. When she was in charge, she would go out of her way to make sure I had matching plates and a big party with my friends. She spent hours cooking, and a lot of her very hard earned money on me. I never realized those things until I was much older, but I was still more grateful of her special get togethers than anything else I ever experienced.

For instance, one year, my mother was in charge. She "forgot" to send out invites, and by forgot I mean she got to high to, so we had to call everyone to tell them when it was and most people forgot or couldn't go on such short notice. So I only ended up with two friends at my house. None of my family showed up except for one cousin whom I'm close with, to wish me happy birthday. But of course she was a teenager at the time, and had more important things to do, so I was left with my two friends and my sisters and my brother.

One of my former friends was molested by her father and brother, and also beaten by her mother, so she didn't get to stay very long. She brought me a gift, it was a colored picture. I remember how much I appreciated that.

My other friend and I tried to enjoy ourselves. We did each others make up, I got a a chemical burn from that...that my mother told me to just walk off. So we washed our faces off, and tried dress up. I got screamed at by my mother, because we borrowed her dresses. I was ten so I guess I should have asked, but she told me I was getting a smack for that shit later. Before she saw us in our dresses of choice we were learning/teaching each other dance moves from the latest Spice Girls music video from TRL...which we adored. But I was short, and stepping on the dress, so I'm pretty sure my mother wanted to kill me at that point. She sent my friend home after we ate pizza.

My friend with the Spice Girls moves lived behind us at the time. She was cool as hell, and actually gave me a really neat card with something motivational written on the inside that I later got smacked for. My mother didn't think I should be spreading "our dirty laundry" about, and that I was singing a "poor me" song to the neighborhood. She also gave me money, twenty dollars, that my mother pocketed.

So what did I get for this birthday? Ten years old. I got a bunch of smacks, some emotional abuse, a half-assed party with pizza, and a couple birthday wishes. I was grounded too, and told I couldn't hang out with that cool girl anymore.

It wasn't until AFTER my birthday that I was able to visit my grandmother this year, and she had spoiled me with presents and loves. But my birthday was pure hell, as it tends to be. I have a pretty decently sized family, and most people tend to just FORGET my birthday all together. Then I'll see them down the line and I'll get 'omg didn't your birthday just pass?' or 'how did your birthday go? sorry I missed it.' You're not sorry, and you're fake. My birthday was hell, thank you for asking. It's funny because there are literally three other relatives that share a birthday month with me, and the only time anyone can seem to remember (that bastards) my birthday is when its lumped together in someoneelse's.

This is the part of the post where I would like to cordially tell every parent who has made siblings, cousins, or anything of the like SHARE a birthday--and they are NOT twins or DO NOT even share a birthDAY as one another, fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you. From the bottom of my fucking heart fuck you. I felt belittled and like my day never mattered, like I never mattered....and even when these events were half-assed and thrown together--I NEVER once had a friend present and I hated it. Everyone was either too young or too old, so fuck you.

You only get one birthday. You only get THAT day. You have ONE DAY to feel special. Do not let ANYONE make you feel like trash on that day. It is truly heartbreaking. I can't really express in words how it made me feel for years. I felt like no one. I felt invisible. I was the bastard and you know what I STILL AM--but FUCK them. July 12th is my day, and heavens be damned, I'm going to make it shine rainbows all damn day long.



Thanks for reading! Happy Trails!! xox

*~DaniiGrimm~*


PS.

Last year around this time, my two favorite boys made me feel special. It's going to be something that I remember for the REST of my life. It may be 40+ years it may be less, but no matter what--I always look back at this and smile.

For just a minute I was special to not one, but two people. Two people that matter very much to me. No one will ever truly understands what that means to me.

My goal this year?

To hug ~~~~~>

This gorgeous man's wife. Because she is just as beautiful a soul as he is. I cannot wait to spend the entire day sweating my ass off at Disrupt Fest, to see one of my favorite people ever.

If I keep having birthday's like this, I'm going to have to change the mood of my writing each year--but hey, NO complaints there! I SURE could use the relief!

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

See you tomorrow for another birthday memory. Five more days til the 12th! peace, love, and marshmallows.

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