Friday, January 9, 2015

Birthday Thoughts and Death Anniversary

This month is my birthday. I was born January 20th, the day John F. Kennedy was sworn into office.

My mother's death anniversary is also this month - January 18th. Her birthday was January 25th. She died at age 64.

My birth was not a joy to her as she told me every day of my life how she never wanted another child. I found out long after her death that the doctor who delivered me offered to adopt me when I was born. My dad wouldn't hear of it.

Sometimes I wish she would have let him. Perhaps I would have been loved and encouraged. Perhaps life would have taken a different turn for me. Perhaps....

I always thought her death is what caused me to hate birthdays. Spending my 24th in a funeral home for her viewing was not a bright ray of sunshine. As time has passed, I realized the lack of love she showed me, wishing I had never been born, never celebrating my birthday even with a small cake, etc., all combined to push me to hate birthdays. It wasn't until I went off to college where friends celebrated with me with parties and cake that I thought birthdays were okay after all.

My birthday occurs in a month that is dark and dreary. It is cold. It is wet and painful. It also occurs after Christmas - a time when giving and remembering is over.

I endure January. It is a mixed basket of pain and sorrow. But I keep reminding myself there is a reason I am still on this earth, many reasons perhaps. But as each year passes, it is much harder to function like a normal person. This horrid disease robs me of so much of life. It is so much easier to fall into a well of self doubt and wonder why I am still here.


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