Blog #47: My Cursed Birthdays--Part three

Okay my dearests here again for another horrible birthday experience. I know my birthday came and went but I've been so fucking busy doing everything that I just haven't been able to keep up. As this is my third story, you can expect two more from me. I am not sure yet how I'm going to release them (as in a time frame) but I'll get back to yall on that when it's time. After that I'm going to write about my birthday this year, which we actually physically celebrated on the 17th instead of the 12th and that? That was fucking fabulous I must say--but I digress...

It was my 14th birthday and man I couldn't fucking wait to celebrate. I don't know why though because I've had a history of bad luck on that day, but my guess is because it was a time that my nana and grandpa had agreed to take me, my cousins, and some of my friends with me to see a movie. What did we go see? Vertical Limit. Don't fucking judge me. I wanted to see that shit.

Anyhow, as far as birthdays were going this one was topping off to be a nice one. But I fucking failed math and my grandfather pretty much called me a piece of shit failure to my face in so many words and my heart was broken. Every other subject I had gotten an A on, and as he delved out my summer money (an incentive of his to get good grades) I took it bitterly. But he told me I didn't deserve my birthday party, uhm???? Thanks grandpa. I don't deserve to celebrate the day I was born? You as cold as ice.

Anyway I still got to go, because what it came down to was--everything was in motion already. The theater was reserved, the restaurant was reserved for dinner after and all of my friends and cousins were rsvp'ed and on their way. All of my friends. Listen to me. HA! like I had more than four. Sorry...I didn't mean to deceive you. I had four friends come with me, and my four cousins. So there ya go....a party of

about 8 children/teens and an older adult. That's the mental image.

This was the one birthday I had decided not to spend with my grandmother, she is different than my nana. My nana, is my grandfathers second wife. Step grandmother if you will. My grandmother, who was more a mother than my real mother my entire life, was my mother's mother. When I got home from the theater I was greeted to news that my grandmother had fallen in the shower. She was 52 years old, so...I mean Ill let you be the judge of how scary that was--but 52 is just not that old and you know what? It was scary and confusing. 

I went about my business, and when everyone left the next day for the party I called my grandmother but we still had so many questions. Little did we know, was the beginning of the worst fucking time of our lives. In the coming months we found out she had been cultivating a cancerous bundle inside her brain for years and because insurance was so bad and she had none, she had let every single warning sign go unnoticed.

This woman. Meant the world to me. My life quickly became some black hole that was vastly sucking everything I loved and cherished into it--and I was powerless to stop it. So we marched forward and my grandmothers health rapidly declined. She went through chemo, she went through surgery, and slowly I lost the strongest warrior I have ever known to a disease that literally ate her from the inside out. It was hard to watch. The only thing in those days that kept me sane was some music and artists I held very close to me at the time, I honestly don't know what I would have done without it.

A year later, I lost her. My entire world spiraled out of control the moment my mother opened her mouth to tell me the news. I was a mixture of feelings; I was livid that the doctor that she had been in the care of had been so fucking cocky that he would save her, that he assured us over and over again that she would be fine. I was betrayed that my mother had not allowed me to be there for her more often in her sickness, because I was stuck home cleaning or taking care of my sisters and brother. But most of all I was heartbroken because I had lost my true mommy.

I was 15 years old, and I had lost her forever. I didn't let the heart break really hit me though, until I visited her grave. I wasn't allowed at the funeral because my mothers a heartless cunt. Mid-year that year I had moved out of my dysfunctional mothers house and started renting a room with an older woman. I had two jobs, I slung weed on the side--when I was much younger...and still went to school. That was an emotional roller-coaster in my life and you know what? I wasn't an angel 100% but I had my reasons.

After I moved out it was like my family, who had basically treated me like the bastard outcast I was my entire life--had finally officially disowned me. I wasn't their problem any longer--and you know what, my life was thrust into an absolute darkness for a long time. It was something I had to work through alone, and still--thinking back to these days, I wonder if everything I did was right. Maybe not everything, but I am human. No one remembered my birthday after that except two people. My aunt and my cousin. It "hurt too much" to think of my birthday because it fell in the month of my grandmothers unfortunate incident, and yet the other three July birthdays do not go unacknowledged.

That's okay though.

I know on my birthday, the one who is sitting there rubbing my back while I'm having a pity party by myself--or more accurately, with my little family....is my grandmother. Smiling, as she's trying to tell me it will be okay, and I'm doing alright. I feel her here with me always. I know she is here in the things I say and do, and I can feel her when I need her most. These days, my birthday have been rapidly getting more and more better and honestly I can't tell you why that's happened because I don't know. But I'm not going to question it, would you?

Thanks for sticking out the read guys! Talk to you next time.   💙 xo Stay kind. xo  💙


💙💙D. Grimm.💙💙