Happy birthday to me

It’s my birthday today. The day I’ve been dreading. I’m 50 years old today. I haven’t been dreading being 50, age is but a number. No, I’ve been dreading my birthday. Granted I have never been one for birthdays – I hate being the centre of attention despite what my step-father says.

When it’s your birthday you are suppose to revel in the spotlight, everyone expects you to behave in a certain way. You’re supposed to smile and be happy all day but I just don’t feel like it, I haven’t even got up yet. I will have to in a minute – I can stay in bed all day. But then I will have to put on my birthday face, be all excited about gifts and cards my nearest and dearest have bought for me. Except this year it’s different. This year there will be no birthday wish from my mother, not since she disowned me. My sin, wanting to be well.

It is now nearly thirteen weeks since I last heard from her and far more weeks since I saw her. The last text message she sent me was to say that all the disgusting abusive text messages my stepfather, her third husband, had sent were sent to me with her full knowledge and blessing. It was also to explain in graphic detail things my abuser, her second husband, had done to her. These things she could tell me, she said, because she was never going to see me again. I can only assume it was to make me feel that her life had been much worse than mine therefore justifying her renewed hatred of me and nullifying any pain I was feeling. After all, the abuse I had suffered was my fault – her words.

As I am writing this I have now reached the evening of my birthday. The day has been quite pleasant, more pleasant than I thought it would be. My husband, children and my stepson have made it their aim to make me feel special. The cards they purchased had lovely handwritten messages of love in them – cards have always meant far more to me than gifts. Words from the heart mean the world. To have them in my life I am blessed.

My pain has been terrible today though. Not even my strongest pain killers have worked. This normally happens when I am really stressed or depressed so taking into account the day, I don’t think that should come as a big surprise to me. It took me a good few hours and a very hot bath to make it down the stairs to see everyone.

I heard nothing from my mother today. I do find it amazing that despite all that my elder brother has put her through and trust me when I say it is a lot, his birthday has never been forgotten. My crime has been to try and get well and finally put my past behind me. She obviously meant it when she said she could no longer have me in her life.

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