I had a birthday this year. I’ve had one every year since I’ve been alive. This year’s was quite different.
When I was younger I always had a party. Sometimes they were slumber parties. As I got older the parties faded away, although they were always noticed by friends and family. One year, in fact, my friends surprised me with a party.
After marrying CF birthdays sort of became blah. He would generally buy me something that I had asked for, but there was no big extravaganza. He even mentioned once that he should do better and he was going to try because he knew birthdays were important to me.
There was one year when we went out with friends on my birthday and I got a cake. We were at a bar and the lead singer was singing to me. CF actually got jealous. Yeah, he was just singing to me because it was my birthday. Try imaging me going off and fucking someone else after moving you and tearing your life to shreds.
I had children and would throw huge parties for them. Seriously. I remember Rock Star having parties with around 20 kids in attendance and sometimes even more than that when you counted in the adults. They were fantastic times with great food, cakes I usually decorated myself, goodie bags for all the kids, and alcohol for the adults. Gradually she eased into having her party outside of our home but I would almost always invite people back to the house for cake and ice cream.
At some point I decided, “Hey! Why am I throwing such a huge fuss over the kids and their birthdays and then completely ignoring mine? If I can throw a party for kids, I can throw a party for my damn self!” So I did.
We painted pottery and then headed to a Japanese steakhouse for dinner, and after dinner we went bowling. It was a day long event and I had a blast. That was probably the last time my birthday was celebrated in a big way.
I had hoped CF would have enough insight to throw me a party for my 40th but that was a no-go. My best friend did fly in to surprise me, though, so that was an awesome surprise. He had no hand it, mind you.
One year my mom was out visiting for my birthday. She bought me a cake because I told her CF didn’t usually buy me one. Naturally, he shows up with a cake, looking incredulous that I could say he doesn’t buy me a cake. He didn’t.
Last year my birthday was okay. I thought about deactivating my Facebook page but I didn’t. I don’t even really remember what I did for it but I don’t remember it being especially traumatic, what with it being my first birthday without a husband. Or, at least facing divorce.
This year, however, I simply couldn’t deal. I was about as low as a person could get. I deactivated my Facebook page the night before so I didn’t have to look at everyone wishing me a happy birthday and hoping I had a fantastic day and a wonderful year. Do you know what I did on my birthday? I worked. I worked from 4-7am and then I turned around and worked all day at the bank. When I wasn’t working I was crying. I’m pretty sure I cried on the way to and from my first job and then I cried some more once I got back home. I probably cried again on my way to job #2 as well. It was not a fantastic day. I did not anticipate a wonderful year. I was fully expecting more shit, just like I had been served for months and months. I was in no mood.
The night before I thought I was perhaps up to going out and celebrating by going out to dinner, like we are prone to do in this family, but by the time noon had rolled around I wanted no part of that either. I was all set to go home and eat popcorn for dinner.
My brother, however, had other plans. He and his family showed up with steaks, green beans and macaroni and cheese. He grilled the steak bites up and cooked the green beans and his wife made the mac and cheese. They even brought over an ice cream cake and my niece gave me a lovely card filled with sweet sentiments.
One of my wonderful friends sent me flowers and the next day I got another bouquet from an equally wonderful friend, one whom I have known since fifth grade.
I didn’t get bombarded with Happy Birthday messages on Facebook but close friends reached out and texted me. I appreciated that so much more than umpteen messages from practical strangers on Facebook.
My daughter posted something wonderful and kind about me, although I didn’t see it until the next day. She had tried to tag me in it but because I was deactivated it never showed up on my page. That resulted in a few birthday wishes, including one from the in-law who keeps trying to reach out while maintaining a relationship with CF and the whore.
I did reactivate my page the two days later and got a few questions from people, wondering if they had missed my birthday. I was honest and told them I had deactivated my page.
Quite honestly I think I’ll probably deactivate it next year as well, only I’ll keep it deactivated a longer period of time. I’m just not into celebrating my birthday anymore.
On the topic of Facebook I recently changed my profile and cover pictures. Ever since I was confronted with CF’s first affair I have gone through periods where I just feel incredibly bad about myself. During those periods I feel ugly and I don’t want anyone to see me so I end up getting rid of most of my public pictures. Right now I have one of my dogs as my profile picture and a nature shot for my cover picture. I also took off four out of the five featured photos Facebook now offers. The only one that made the cut was one that didn’t feature me.
I suppose at some point I’ll put new pictures up. God knows the whore is all over Facebook, showing off her fat face and grinning from ear to ear. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that is the smile of a whore who is sleeping with another woman’s husband and who feels absolutely no guilt about it. She is definitely a keeper.
Thanks to Facebook I also know that there is a plan in place for my 30 year class reunion. So many of my classmates seem so excited about this. I am not one of them. I have no plans to go presently.
I’m trying to be more positive, especially seeing as how I just got my back support (or most of it anyway) but I’m not quite there yet. I still see myself as an incredible failure most days.
I envision going to this reunion and chatting with classmates. When talk turns to what I’ve been up to what can I possibly say?
Well, let’s see. Since our 20 year reunion I moved back east of the Mississippi. To make my husband happy I left behind a full and active life and made my kids do the same. My husband and I bought a gorgeous 4000 sq. ft. home, filled it with brand new furniture, put an inground pool in the backyard and then I found out he was fucking his cousin. That happened less than a year after we had moved. I lost my house and was forced to move back here. I live with my mom, share a bedroom with her, and sleep on the couch. I work two jobs- one stocking shelves and the other working as a teller in a bank. I make $11/hour. My kids and I are on Medicaid; my kids get free lunches and free textbooks. The coaches feel sorry for my poor kid so they offer to pay for “needed” camps and new running shoes. We’ve gone from living in the top 1-3% of the socioeconomic population to living in the bottom 10%. Basically, I’m 48 years old, out of high school for 30 and I now realize I have completely wasted my life. Instead of doing something important like working and forging a career so I could support myself when my husband left me I chose to follow my husband all over the country and stay at home to raise my kids. Huge mistake. Loved being at home with them but that doesn’t pay the bills now that their dad is off fucking his cousin. I am pretty much a failure. If not for my mother, my kids and I would be living in a homeless shelter or maybe my car because even working two jobs I don’t make enough money to pay rent and utilities. I cannot take care of my kids on my own because of my horrible life choices. So that’s my life in a nutshell since graduation when all kinds of amazing possibilities still existed and I had my entire life ahead of me.
I suppose if the shit eating chimp is actually paying his support obligations at the time of the reunion I might possibly go. At that point I’ll be just another divorced woman. I can still tell my story and blow people’s minds with the idea of him having sex with his cousin, but at least I might be able to add, “I took him to the cleaners in the divorce. Now I live off of a very hefty support settlement while HE works two job.” That would be somewhat satisfying. (Considering he thinks he’s going to get out of paying what the judge ordered and he’s offering up a pittance in support I don’t see this happening.)
However, I’m not counting on anything. I’m not counting on him actually paying his monthly support. I’m not counting on him being able to continue working and staying sober. I’m not even counting on getting anywhere close to what I want in the divorce settlement. Hell, at the time of the reunion I may very well still be married.
In the end I have no desire to go. I went to the 10 and 20 year ones and had a good time. By the 25th I was no longer feeling it. I can’t say that I’m all that excited about going. There might be a few people I wouldn’t mind seeing but overall the people I wish to see, I see already.
On the plus side I am feeling a little bit better about things. I’d prefer it if I was the one making six figures, instead of it being him with me relying on support payments. But, I’ll take what I can get right now. You’ve got to crawl before you can walk, right?