37 years ago, in the port town of Bremerton, WA, my mother gave birth to a skinny little blue noodle weighing a bit more than 6 pounds. Wouldn’t you know the doctors popped my butt to pink me up? As shocking as it was, I suppose it is what was needed so that I would take my first breaths and formally engage in life.
Fast forward to March of 2012 and not much has changed. Other than not weighing anywhere near 6 pounds (which is a good thing) or resembling a noodle, I had been feeling pretty darn blue. Wouldn’t you know the “doctors” I am working with have “popped me in the butt” to pink me up? Once again, as shocking as it is, it is definitely what I needed so that I would take my first breaths of freedom and formally engage in my life.
Once I graduated from childhood, celebrating my birthday was not something I put a lot of stock in. I make a point to celebrate those who are dear to me when their birthday comes around but as for mine, it’s just another day. I have heard of people taking the day off of work, even if that’s all they do, but I never saw the point.
Last year was the proverbial straw. It was by far the worst birthday I had ever experienced. My “husband” told me to take the day off. I was so excited I was doing the Snoopy dance in my head for days. He was having an open relationship at the time with another woman (long story) and he was finally going to pay attention to me! He was finally going to make up for all of the callous and thoughtless treatment over the last few months.
Almost immediately he lit into me about how worthless I was and that if I didn’t behave myself I wasn’t going to enjoy the surprise he had planned for me. I tried not to burst into tears and to “behave” myself. My irritation grew with each passing hour not for the continual snide comments he kept making but because nothing was happening except me catering to him and the hours I spent serving him I could have been making money. Finally, the hour came where my shift would have been over and still nothing related to my birthday had happened. It was noon. By early evening two of my girlfriends had brought me a balloon and cake. But nothing from my husband.
I had been told to get ready around 5pm. I was ready. I waited. Somewhere in all of this waiting I had donned an expression of irritation which sent my husband into a tirade of how ungrateful I was and that I didn’t deserve a birthday at all. By 11pm he decided that I had behaved well enough to at least take me to a bar. Unbelievable. My gift? That was it. I was told there was something else planned but he couldn’t follow through because it would have upset his girlfriend. What a nightmare…
I was blue.
This year is entirely amazing by comparison. I decided that March 1st was my first day of celebration. I have been my own best friend hugging and hanging out with myself everyday. I have gone window shopping, played with my children, gifts have been trickling in, walked in sunshine, breathed in blooming citrus trees, and treated myself to what ever tickles my fancy. I have laughed so hard I have nearly cried.
I will be working on my birthday this year, but I couldn’t ask for a better place to work. My boss is wonderful and patient. The owners treat all of their employees like they are important to their business and appreciated for the work they do. The patrons are like happy rays of yellow gold streaming in and out of the door all day. I could hardly consider it work if it weren’t for my stiff hands and legs at the end of the day to remind me. I feel, well, reborn.
Happy Birthday Shannon… next year take the day off!