Twelve hours and forty minutes from right this very second (seven minutes past eight p.m. on the twenty-eighth day of March in the twenty-first year of the twenty-first century) I will be forty-eight. I’m always a little amazed by my birthday.. and the amazement increases exponentially every year.
I am tired. That is not new. I hurt. Also not new. I’ve significantly more gray hairs… which will be masked with lowlights on the second of April…
The second of April… best date of my life, that day… nineteen years ago. I remember things. Most of the time I wish I could forget. No. Not most. ALL of the time. Best date. Italian food. I love Italian food. Especially when it’s produced in a family-owned, quasi-hole-in-the-wall-but-remarkably-reputable-establishment. Nineteen years ago. A good third of my life. On a Sunday night, right about this same time, on the twenty-eighth of April this man crushed my soul, and I have strived ever since to forgive myself for allowing that to happen. I let him do it. I let him do it because I was too afraid, too confident that it was inevitable, and I couldn’t bear to have it happen after I’d fully invested…. and now here we are. Sipping on a cheap red blend, banging on these keys… I’ve been drinking too much these days. I know better. I’ve had a glass already and chased it with two cans of Bud Light’s Mango seltzer… and I’m back to the cheap Woodbridge red blend… I am not well. I very much wish I could be… but in the same breath, I’m like, why bother? I’m forty-eight. Essentially. It’s all downhill from here. There’s no more climbing. There’s no more striving.
With the exception of a book club meeting that occurred on the same day as my birthday, I’ve never had a group of gals celebrate me in my adulthood. Not once. It’s always been my parents and my brother(s) and the younger’s wife.
I spent six hours at church today… stayed for all three services because I’d hope to wrangle some singles for the singles ministry a small group of us hope to establish. Small church… LOTS of married with childrens in attendance. Not as many singles in attendance today as I’d hoped to find. Anyway… I saw a number of women I love and respect, and my day was brightened because of them… but the moment I walked out of that church… It was overcast today… and the gloom that has constantly plagued me reclaimed its presence. So I went to Zanti’s for a late lunch… and while there I debated for a solid half hour at least whether to ask my friend the question that had been on my heart for quite some time….
Hi. I ended up just giving the chimes at the brunch yesterday and kept the devotionals… then handed those out to Kelli, Jamie, Whitney and another gal whom I did not know.
You told me once if I want something I have to ask for it. I’d told you it was difficult for me to do this because my mother had imposed upon me the notion that I was imposing on others by doing so. The other reason I struggle with asking is because I feel as though the request would be given out of pity—because I’ve been asked before why I try to make people feel sorry for me, and I hate thinking this is so. That’s never been my intention, though I understand it could certainly seem so.
I am sitting at Zanti’s having a late lunch and trying not to feel guilt for making the following request:
Tomorrow is my birthday. I have never had one of those girls’ night out dinners with a group of friends to celebrate me. I think this is why I have hated my birthday… it has always felt lonely. I’ll have dinner with my parents, brother and his wife.. as usual, and that’ll be that. And that IS SO GOOD. Please don’t misunderstand.
You said I have a net. I would love to know who’s helped piece it together, at the Lord’s request of course.
Could you perhaps orchestrate a girls’ birthday dinner for me?
Yall. I am SO messed up. And I am SO STINKING tired of feeling SO MESSED UP. Can you imagine for one second how AWFUL it is that I have to beg a woman to wrangle a group of gals together because I want my birthday to feel a little more special?
The only thing I’ve ever wanted for myself is marriage and family, but I can’t have that… so then it’s a solid group of a girlfriends, a squad if you will… and I can’t have that. So then it’s gainful employment… and I can’t have that. So… why the HELL should I bother with ANYTHING? Those are the hopes… and they all seem FOOLISH. Which leaves me with Woodbridge red blend, Relaxing Rain Sounds on Amazon music, Facebook, Match (because I can’t help myself), Seekers Notes: Hidden Mystery, and this room… this box I’ve made more aesthetically pleasing. And in twelve hours and ten minutes now… I will be another year older.