Happy F’in Birthday to Me

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I used to love my birthday. Each year I still try and love it. Each year my day gets looked over by my friends and family. Each year I feel like I don’t exist in this world as I grow another year older. People around me tell me happy birthday. They really don’t act like I exist. 


Growing up I was an only child. I didn’t have to share my birthday with no one. It was my day and my day alone. My family acted like they cared about me. I got gifts and was shown love and support. This didn’t change, until I was an adult. 


When I moved to Florida I should have seen the importance I was to those around me. I started to plan my own birthday. Where I wanted to eat which later would change to where he wanted to eat. My day slowly didn’t become mine anymore. 


In 2003 my daughter came along. 9 days prior to my birthday. 9 days before I would grow another year older. A year my life would forever change. 


The day after my birthday I got married to my ex husband. Now, not only did I lose my birthday to my daughter, I now lost it to my ex husband.  The two days slowly became all about him and what he wanted. 


Then, his step grandma moved down to Florida. I shared a birthday with her. Now, all hopes to have a birthday are now gone. She was a selfish evil woman. She didn’t care for me, I didn’t care for her much either. 


As time went on my daughter grew older. I tried to keep our days separate. Her birthday on one day and mine on another day. My anniversary on another day. Somehow my birthday would get tied into either of them or both. It seemed like it was never mine again. 


My family only told me Happy Birthday on social media. I find that impersonal. I used to text everyone happy birthday on their day. I still didn’t get a text back or call. If I did, it was rare. When my ex husband's step grandma died it came back to me celebrating my day on my anniversary. I tried to plan a day for me and we would go where he wanted, did what he wanted, everything to his liking. Even on Mothers Day it was like that. 


Here I am divorced and have full custody of my daughter. My birthday is around the corner once again. She just had hers and people texted her, messaged her on social media, and got so many presents. Even my dad texted her. I haven’t heard from him in forever. She got the text. Once again, I have to share my birthday dinner with her. At a place I didn’t pick. A place someone else did. A place I don’t care much for. It’s not about me is it?  My birthday is about everyone else, right?


I have three gifts from my mom and daughter. My mom couldn’t keep her mouth shut, and I know them all but one. Even then I’m pretty sure I know what it is. Once again, no surprises, it’s about other people, and not about me.


I’ll have to go and shop for my own cake again.  I’ll hear people bitching about how they don’t like chocolate and how I could get a chocolate cake. My birthday is about others. Here I am wishing that it would just pass me up to a point. 


So happy fucking birthday to me. It’s more like Happy Fucking Birthday to You and everyone else. 

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