I was born 26 years ago. Crazy to think I’ve known people for that long.I’ve been breathing, running, walking, driving, crying, laughing, and smiling for this long… and truthfully, I’m still a work in progress.
I love to celebrate life. I think everyone’s life is beautiful and oh so full of meaning. But just like a photographer, I’m always the one taking the pictures. I’m celebrating everybody’s life but mine year after year. I’m happy to do so – celebrate all of my family’s and friend’s birthday I mean. I’ve opted out of every subtle celebration, yet today stands as my quiet reminder that I’m still alive.
I know I’m living, breathing in and out as it rains. When I look up at the tree outside my home and see the birds building a nest, I know I’m alive. Even when I’m tearing up from laughing at something silly—that’s living. I’m living because I notice the little things, the quiet moments some people might pass by. And that’s enough for me.
As a child, my mother and father never missed a birthday. When I turned fifteen, I celebrated that year with a big party, a white limousine, a fluffy white dress, and all my family and friends gathered in a ballroom in Doral for hours. On the surface, it looked like the whole thing was so wholesome, picture-perfect and calculated. But it was only one percent of what it should have been, because ninety-nine percent was missing. My father. The person who had always dreamed of having the waltz with me.
The whole party was great, but the truth is that I never wanted it.
I was forced to dance the father-daughter waltz with someone who wasn’t my father. Someone my mother isn’t even with anymore. She didn’t realize how deeply that would imprint itself in my mental memory box, how much it would sit there, quietly haunting me. And now, she wonders why I refuse to do anything with her. I wonder why…
Well the following year, on my 16th birthday, she slapped me in front of my “friend.” There was no cake, no hugs, no balloons, no music. That’s when I learned that my birthday is only what I make of it, not what my mother decides it should be. So this year, I’m using her washer and dryer to clean the clothes I wore on my birthday cruise this past weekend. That’s how I’m spending my birthday today. She brought cupcakes, but I don’t crave sugar anymore, not since I stopped carrying the anxiety that came with living in her house. So, here I am writing this.
I stopped craving attention, validation and acknowledgement towards my birthday a long time ago. I will not schedule a reservation or invite a group of people anywhere for my birthday. It will always just be a regular day to me and everyone around me.
And even though I solely try to focus on just doing everything but acknowledge my birthday, something always seems to happen. For example, my narcissistic ex decided to text me apologizing for the pain he went through that led him to react a certain way in our 3 year long relationship. He made today about him and I didn’t send him to hell because I know better. But that’s where he can find himself at 🙂
Anyways, that’s all for today folks.
Blooming With Flo 