OLD and Crazy

Something about the revived realization of getting old throws me into a depression each year. Of course the reminder is my birthday. Unfortunate that my brain finds a way to ruin that day (and usually at least 2 weeks following that day) for me.
I’ve always been one for lining up events that give me something to look forward to. In the spring the event is my birthday. In addition I just really love spring- the green showing through , flowers, birds, hope that we aren’t living in a frozen hell year round. This year spring has mostly sucked. Here it is April 28th and it’s sleeting outside. BLA!
The anticipation of holidays in general has always been big for me. Good and bad. As a kid I would barely sleep the night before in anticipation of the gifts and fun the next day. Christmas was the biggest bit of excitement. My cousin and I would wake up VERY early, still dark outside, and do our best to wake up the rest of the family…so that we could go downstairs and start the fun. A magical time. Some guy shows up and breaks into your house while you sleep and then leaves gifts. AWESOME! The bad part was the dysfunctional anticipation of my parents fighting and the dichotomy of pretending we were a happy nucleic family – so the rest of the family didn’t know how messed up we were. I was torn between living in my make believe world in which my parents slept in the same room and liked each-other AND the reality of the play we were acting out. So holidays continue to excite and depress me.
This year my birthday was like any other…at least for someone in their mid-late 30’s. Really nothing is about you anymore at this age. It’s about my kids. They should pick out a gift for me because that teaches them to think of others, I should tell my husband to take the kids to get me said gift, I should tell my husband which gift that should be. We should get a cake, because the kids like cake and birthdays include cake. So my birthday becomes about a teaching opportunity as well as to minimize the financial impact to my family…because truthfully getting me something I really want for my birthday—we can’t afford. Exciting items on the top of that list would be – a house keeper, new wardrobe, a vehicle with a working radio and door….let the good times roll.
Part of my dysfunction includes my desire to provide for others thoughtful gifts. I want them to be happy with what I picked or made for them. I want them to know I thought about them and who they really are. I put time into it. It’s fun for me. The joy in the giving. That said, I have the unfair expectation that I will get the same in return.
Here is the ungrateful part. I know. Yes I am a spoiled brat. I get that. The gifts are usually a disappointment. I don’t want big $$ gifts. I just want someone to think about me and create that thought in something tangible. The only way to achieve that would be to tell someone what I want…which ruins the fun.
Time to accept the reality of being past the prime time in life where there is excitement like that. My role as a mother is to provide the experience to my kids. As a friend, provide that to my friends,etc.
Buzz kill.
On that happy note, another appointment with the gyno. today. Good TIMES!