“Birthdays are good for you. Statistics show that the people who have the most live the longest.” ~ Father Larry Lorenzoni
It was a good birthday. I don’t know why but it seems to me the older I get the more people remember the day. I had phone calls, cards and emails from just about everyone I know, even D. It’s very nice to know that so many care enough to take the time to acknowledge my special day.
I think maybe having one’s own party may be the way to go. But in the future I need to figure out a way to convince people, that when I say I don’t want gifts, I really mean it. That’s the one thing that would keep me from having a party for myself again. Any suggestions?
This is my fifth birthday without my ex-husband and I have to say it’s getting easier. Time is truly a healer. The first one was in 2007 when D was still living (in a manner of speaking) in the same house with me. He, of course, was out-of-town. He didn’t call. He sent a brief email message which said “Hope you have a good birthday.” Or something equally trite. I was crushed. He hadn’t even moved out yet and already he was ignoring my birthday. He who had given such lavish gifts in the past and always made sure he was home in time to celebrate with me. And I didn’t even rate a phone call! I remember, too, that I had just learned about his OW because I found a receipt that described an expensive ring he had bought for her. Not nearly as expensive as some he had bought me, but even so, a twist of the knife. And by the way I still take some pleasure in knowing that hers was “slim pickings” compared to some of mine. Okay. Okay. I know how childish that sounds. Fortunately I get less and less snide and childish as I gain a distance from the “main event.” I’m grateful for the healing and I forgive myself for the lapses.
Oh, and another benefit of giving a party: My house is clean! I am a happy soul.