What is it About Birthdays?

Yesterday was my birthday... my forty-seventh birthday.

I find myself so depressed today, I just want to sit here and sob.

What the hell is the big deal, anyway? Why do I feel this way? 

Is it because birthdays are a marker? A measuring stick that we stand up against our lives so we can judge where we are vs. where we should be?

If I was to give the birthday pep-talk to someone I cared about, I would say something like: "Birthdays are a celebration of the day that you came into existence and should be filled with all the love everyone has for you."

Either I don't care about myself, or I don't buy my own bullshit, because birthdays blow once you reach a certain age... like maybe sixteen. I think sixteen was the last of my happy birthdays.

My birthday blew... and sucked. 

My husband was away, but he texted me a rousing "Happy dirty day, hun"... which was a spell-check gone wrong.

My mother and two sisters texted me happy birthdays.

Facebook came through with the obligatory salutations it prompts on one's 'special' day.

My bestie dropped me a text from California, where she is celebrating her fiftieth (3 months late).

Can't say I'm feeling the love. Can't say I'm feeling much of anything except disappointed.

My husband was away and to his credit, he did bring me a card and a watch which was propped up on the counter this morning when I went into the kitchen. That was kind of him.

My kids don't even care anymore. No cards... Jesus, the oldest never even wished me a happy birthday. I know I'm whining, but Jesus Christ, you guys... way to make a fella feel unappreciated!

I know that my friend situation is my own fault. I have managed to alienate most everyone from my world. I have 'turtled' so severely over the past few years, I've shut everybody out. I know that is ultimately on me... but there are certain people from whom I expect better things.

My boss completely shit the bed. Fuck! On her birthday, I was making arrangements for flowers to be delivered to her home... and last year, I made her a beautiful card - she still keeps the stupid thing on her desk, for crying out loud! I didn't even get a wish from her... just a call to drive to her house and deliver a stack of business cards there because she didn't want to stop at the office for them.

Talk about feeling like someone's bitch!

I'm feeling incredibly unappreciated... and worst of all, I feel as though I may even deserve that... I work a 'nothing' job. I mean there is not one redeemable thing about what I do in that office. I could lift out of there tomorrow and the only reason anyone would even notice is because what I do isn't important enough to bother learning for my higher ups... so somebody might have to look up a login or some such. God forbid.

I'm feeling that way about my family, too.

Not that I wouldn't be missed... the house would fall apart in short order and there would be huge inconvenience all around, but would anybody even really miss me? Would my absence mean anything other than inconvenience?

I guess that after forty-seven years on the planet, one wants to matter somehow. One wants to feel like they would be missed if they were say... abducted by aliens or some such. One wants to have had some sort of impact on their world... and I just don't.

...another shortfall on the yard stick of life.

How quaint.