We all celebrate those special moments. Especially the 18th, 21st (not so popular in my country), then all the round ones – 30s, 40s etc.
Usually there is a party, many guests, many presents… The night to remember. Forever. Around that time, you get invited to many such events, since your generation enters the same festive period almost at the same time.
My birthday is in January. However, my circle of closest friends included a lot of kids a year older than me (since I was placed in the school a year earlier and was the youngest kid in the class). The rest was about my age. When the time came, the madness started and people in my class were celebrating one by one. There was a sort of “class division” within the students, so I wasn’t expecting to be invited to all of them. Then some of my “closest classmates” started spreading invitations. I didn’t get it in the first round, nor in the second, third…. Well, let’s just say it straight – I was never invited. I tried to explain to myself why. I invented many reasonable and not so reasonable explanations for it to happen. In fact though, I was very hurt. It wouldn’t be so bad, but there were other classmates invited to those parties, but I seemed not to be worth a bother. It hurt even more because on every day basis, we were quite close (or so I thought). Yes, they were teasing me etc., but I was included in plays and always participated in activities together.
Little did I know at the time that nobody really thought seriously about me as a member of the pack. I was just happy that I was included and they had someone to pick on. The only difference was, they were the sort of “soft bullies”. Those “hard core” ones I avoided big time, as they were really nasty.
So, over the years I didn’t really think much about birthdays and other occasions, until it finally came – my 18th! I knew many people that celebrated a year before, we spent a lot of time together but I didn’t really expect to be invited. When my closest friends though organised parties and I haven’t heard from them, it was very painful. I was forgotten, not important, not noticed… I was trying to figure what I did wrong and came to conclusion that being nice was actually a sign of being naive. I never answered back, I never said NO to anyone and that actually “killed me” instead of winning the respect that I wanted so much.
Despite this conclusion, I repeated to myself that this disregard was just an overlook on others’ part and/or probably too many members of the family were attending, so there would not be any space to fit me onto the guest list. I dismissed the fact that there were other friends coming to the party, and in fact, I was just not significant enough to join them all.
When my 18th birthday arrived, I didn’t know who to invite. My party was going to be a micro-event, organised in my room (micro space as well). I planned no more than 3-4 people. It was enough for me though, because I couldn’t fit more anyway, and there was no way that my parents would try to organise anything big. However, they definitely celebrated my 18th – the amount of alcohol they drunk on that occasion was so substantial that they didn’t even fight much. They dropped down snoring far before my guests were due to arrive. I was glad though, at least I have peace and quiet, and didn’t have to fear that the event will be unsettled by some random drunken performance.
I decorated the room, I got a cake, I had drinks and music organised. I set down and waited… and waited… waited… I was sitting like that for four hours…
I got up, shoved food and drinks back to the kitchen. No knock on the door, no phone call… I celebrated with my dog that night… I cried till 5am with my dog on my lap. Then took my dog for a long walk, along the river. It was very cold, well below -10C. The river was full of ice floes. Snow up to my knees. I didn’t feel it though. I was totally numb. There was a little voice telling me that “just a few steps towards the river will set me free”. And I was just about to follow that voice, and then I heard my dog barking. The thought of him wondering around in the freezing cold was stronger than my will to end the agony. My only love and support… I couldn’t leave him like that. I got back home and went to bed.
The 21st was not so special in my country. Maybe for boys, because the girls were adults on their 18th birthday, but boys 21. We didn’t make big parties for that occasion, so I didn’t bother much.
The next, really significant birthday was my 40th. It was the time when I was recovering from my disastrous marriage. My daughter was settling on her own (with baby and her partner), and I moved out of the city and settled with my new partner. Life was crazy. I was learning how to be me. I didn’t have time, or opportunity to mix with other people and make new friends. I was too submerged in the new reality that I forgot how to enjoy myself. My 40th was just a normal day.
Then came the 50th. It was nice, but it finally hit me that I reached a half century mark and had really achieved f*** all. I lost my best years trying to survive, and when I finally crawled out of the hole, it was too late. My health deteriorated, I got fat… and I truly have nothing to pass onto my kids when I am gone. I am a failure. And it pisses me off when people are telling me to keep my head up. They haven’t got a clue how difficult it is. It’s just a slogan that everyone repeats in those situations, because they were thought to do so. Yet they are the ones who run to jump off the bridge when things go wrong.
But there are things that keep me going. My animals and hope. I hope that one day the world will change and life will be normal. Most people say that it’s Utopia. The thing is, majority of people have the same hope. They stay silent though. Those who decide to act are either killed, branded, or simply considered insane. It’s sad.
So I am thinking, if I’ve managed to get so far, why not to stay a bit longer? I have time to observe now, I have wisdom to plan, and I will definitely find the energy to fight for my Utopia!
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