It doesn't feel good.  To wait for the mailman to come.  And to know he probably won't.  Or, if he does, to know there will be nothing for you in his stack of advertisements.  I feel like a five year old.  Every year I do this.  Excited, because I love getting cards in the mail.  I love putting them up on my hutch so I can look at them until after my birthday is over.  Though for the past few years, I only get one, from my birth grandma, which is totally fine with me because I am grateful to have at least one.  Though last year, the mail man brought nothing.  I was kind of devastated.  Part of the reason I don't get cards anymore is that my cousin got a hold of my entire family to tell them I am batshit crazy because I wrote one simple blog about my abuse growing up.  So now my entire family has nothing to so with me (I only chose to go no contact with my two cousins, I still have two more cousins and an aunt, but now they won't speak to me either).  And other people, a.k.a. my birth family, seem to have forgotten I exist.

Last year, my birthgrandmother told me Happy 39th Birthday on HER facebook account, where I could not see it.  I am not friends with her on FB.  I only knew this happened because someone saw it and told me about it.

And then my birth mother never even sent an email or even a FB message, which she usually does (never have gotten a card from her before).  She then realized it was my birthday three days too late.  And it was ONLY because my son got on my grandma's account and told her how hurt I was that for the first time in my entire life, she didn't send me a card.  She fought my birth mother in court for custody of me.  When she lost, she wanted the court to put a stipulation in the adoption, which my birth mother agreed to, that she could correspond with me through the adoption agency, for Christmas and my birthday.  So, when I didn't get a card from her, it felt like a slap in the face.  Like everyone's love for me has a time stamp on it and that year was the year I as forgotten.  The only card I ever get for my birthday in the mail wasn't coming, because of why?  She obviously remembered my birthday, but there no reason she could not just send me a cheap fifty cent card or even a handmade one.  I could care less about the actual card, just the fact that someone remembered my birthday.  Someone I care about.

Had my son not sent something to her about it (just kidding, it was me, sending it under my son's name so I didn't look desperate as to why she forgot my fortieth birthday), my birth mother would have never even remembered.  Yet, she calls me her "daughter" to people (which isn't okay as I am not her daughter, I am her birth daughter, but I don't know how to bring this up politely).  She can't even remember my birthday, how can she think she's my mother?  It's very odd.  So she sends me this message three days after on Facebook:

"Hey Shay, I am so sorry I didn't reach out for your birthday. I've been juggling too many things lately. In fact, I haven't reached out to anyone for their birthdays. Hope things are going well for you and the boys. Great pic of the four of you on your page."

The part where she says "in fact, I haven't reached out for anyone for their birthdays" is where it feels like, yet another, slap in the face.  Am I just anyone?  If so, why does she have listed on her Classmates.com account that she has a daughter?  Why does she introduce me as her daughter to people?  Does she even understand what that word means?  How do you "juggle" too many things that you forget the person you gave birth to?  Or, why not send a belated card?  Granted, she's never sent me a card and only sparingly sent Christmas cards throughout the years (for the past 18 years or so), which I am fine with.  But still. 

I should not place so much emphasis on these two, like they are carrying my happiness about my birthday on their backs.  I think I do because of my own shitty mom.  The only constant stability I've ever had in my life is my birth grandma sending me a birthday card and a Christmas card each year.  And last year when it didn't happen, I felt like horrible shit.  And now, here I am, at the same time of year again, and wondering if anyone will remember?  Or care?  I mean, I will be turning 40.  It's supposed to be a big deal.  Yet, it feels like it's a big deal for everyone else in the world, but not me.  Just like always.  Growing up my birthdays were usually pretty shitty.  But a few were good (because I planned them).

Though my big ones?  Weren't made into big deals at all.  My 16th?  My mom planned nothing.  I just got to watch TV with my boyfriend all night.  My 21st?  I was nursing a baby, there wasn't much to do (though, my son was one of the best gifts I've ever gotten in my life, so I didn't care 😉  And several of my birthdays while married to my ex were 100% forgotten about.  So once I threw myself a birthday party, that way nobody could forget, and nobody ended up showing up.  And a couple birthdays at the house where my hubby and I are now, he tried to throw me a party a few times, and again, nobody showed up. 

It's really hard not to hate your birthdays with all that.  But the one constant I had had my entire life was my grandmothers cards (I always called her grandma, not "birth grandma").  And last year even that didn't happen.  So I am really struggling to not let that bother me.  I am really pushing myself to not care one way or another.  If I get any cards, then yay.  If not, no big deal.  But I know it will bother me.  But it's really not fair to ruin my own birthdays over people that don't matter.  Because I have people that DO matter, right here with me, under my own roof, that never forget my birthday 💖  So, I need to change my perspective on this and only let them matter anymore.  Because....they mean the most to me.  They are my reason for being happy that I am alive.  They are my life. 

So, this year, I know I won't get a card from my mother.  And I am totally fine with that.  And if I don't get a card from anyone else, I need to be fine with that, too.  Because I need to concentrate on what I have, not what I don't have.

And my birthday isn't just about me, it's about the family I adore also being able to celebrate me.  So me being a bitch on my birthdays because I hate it (seriously, I've ruined a LOT of birthdays because of this), made my family guilty that nothing they did was good enough for me. I've been soooo selfish for so many years, that I couldn't see this.  So this year, I refuse to let anyone bring me down.  Cards, or not cards, wishes or no wishes, forgetting or remembering, it doesn't matter anymore.  I am tired of letting the weenies of the world control me and how I feel about my own birthday.  I am tired of being manipulated for whatever narcissist wants to play games with me (and my family).  I am done.

Nobody is going to ruin anything for me anymore.  My New Year's theme for 2017 (I don't do resolutions) was: simplify.  And what better way to make things less complicated than this?

UPDATE 2021: This was published right before my 40th birthday.  Come to find out,  both her and my birthgrandma forgot my 40th too.  I had no idea just how much I was about to be disappointed when I wrote this.  Everyone forgot it.  Even the people that lived in my house.