I hate birthdays

Sketch430369Night before our house inspection, my body is in the process of going full retard. The household has collectively spent the last week cleaning like Dobby on a bender of red bull and cocaine.

I don’t relish the idea of strangers walking through our house to inspect the place now that it’s for sale, but that’s one of the perils of renting, I suppose.

IInterestingly enough, it’s now four days until my birthday – that fateful day I was stolen from a place of carefree floating, bladder kicking and the god forsaken jam, ice cream and gherkins my host would eat. I like to think I made a good parasite for what it’s worth. I can’t say I’m terribly looking forward to my birthday this year.

As usual, events like thing bring with it a lot of terrible memories from my old life. Massive domestics between mum and dad, being put into utter tears on what’s supposed to be a special day, being told you’re the reason the house isn’t eating tonight because you wanted a little backyard party with your friends. Shit that just doesn’t go away easy. Every year, my birthday was the day I got blackmailed by my mother about finances, hated by my father because he wasn’t getting the attention, molested by my grandparents because mum made me go see them and then got laughed ant and teased by my peers because I was the token poor kid and couldn’t afford the birthday cake for the class or the fancy party at the mini golf place. Every year I had secretly hoped it was all a giant ruse and, on my special day, I’d come home from school and all my friends would jump out and yell “SURPRISE!”. My parents never really knew my social life well enough to orchestrate something like that and my sister was in no better position, so it was one of those fitful, bittersweet hopes that helped me get by the rest of the year but came back to bite me on that day.

Since those years I’ve done what I can to make the best of a shitty memory and to try and put some new ones over the top. Once my sporting club surprised me with a trip to the riding ranch with the rest of the guys. Watching medievalists climb on to horses and not fall off was one of the funnier things I’ve seen. I’ve organised little get together here and there, working within what I can afford and around the busy lives of friends. I’ve genuinely done my best to try and shrug off the mantle of bad memories, but given all the shit at this time of year right now, it’s been harder than most times around.

We have to find a new place to live. I’m (very recently) being investigated for breast cancer. I’ve had a major flare in both the pain and fatigue departments. I guess the shit is just blocking out the more shiny memories right now and I’m really not feeling it. To be honest, part of me just wants to pretend it’s like any other boring day of the year and that my birthday doesn’t exist at all, but I’m sure I’ll regret that just as much in the long run.

Manthing ‘snuck’ out of the house tonight to get me a present. I had been avoiding blogging about this for a while now ( good old head in the sand trick) but having that kind of attention cast my way made me feel all kinds of uncomfortable. I can’t even explain why. I kind of wanted to curl up, not let him leave the house and pretend nothing was happening. I almost suspect part of my brain of trying to deliberately sabotage the situation so I just have another bad memory of the day, because at least that’s familiar.

Right now, I’m going to try and do that sleep thing and simply focus on getting past the inspection tomorrow. ¬†Once that’s done, we find out when they want to hold the open homes and we can work out plans from there. Just work on breathing easy and taking things one day at a time.