Well, Britney was in the Michey Mouse Club, after all…
So here is the mashup of: “that song they always sang at the end of the Michey Mouse Club” + Britney Spears’ “If You Seek Amy”
M – I – C – (see you real soon! NOT)
K – E – Y – (why? exactly. why the fuck)
If…You…Seek…Hey…You
Free Disney on your birthday! Cool. Am all set. Have Thursday off anyway! have even printed the certificate. Taking Belle – I can board her there. Gonna get her a hat. Gonna get myself one of those balloons with the Mickey ears. Man, I love those balloons, always have.
Let me hit that website and check the map of the Magic Kingdom so i can plan what i want to see b/c yes, i am that rigid about the proper way to do the park. Click here for park hours… okay… special announcement next to the April map… wow, let me read that…
Huh? What’s that? Space Mountain AND The Hall of Presidents are both closed for refurbishment. Haha. No… Really?
SERIOUSLY?
Itinerary (pre-knowledge-of-above): Ride Space Mountain 10 times. See Abraham Lincoln twice.
Current itinerary as of this typing: Staying home.
Subject to change. Still.. goddamn it, it’s my fuckin’ birthday and Disney’s not far anymore and they have the free Disney on your birthday deal and seriously what the fuck Disney because what is the goddamn point of free entrance when you shut down the 2 things i was looking forward to most? Disney World is anti-birthdays. And they hate me. And I hate them back.
Fuck. My one bday celebration…
FUCK.
Nate Berkus. Go me! I approached him and chatted and like hell was I gonna leave without a hug. He is adorable and so nice and gracious.
And now I am ONE DEGREE away from Oprah.
Man, that Nate is cute.
When I feel like shit, I write shit and then feel like an ass. So here’s to feeling like an ass.
My birthday is in just a few days. I am not ready. I do not like it. I can’t come to terms with it AT ALL. I don’t want time to continue passing while I have less to show for my life. I keep turning “32″ – this will be the 5th year. I can’t get past that one. That was a very different one, I just realized. Maybe subconsciously that’s why I picked that age and bday. Well, year 32 actually wasn’t great, but the bday was me on the phone for hours with my favorite person. Pathetic to some, I suppose. Pathetic now, i suppose, looking back on it. But at the time it really made me smile.
I bought my cake this weekend (since I am starting my Cleanse next weekend). I hated how they wrote my name on it. Why don’t these people even try to do a decent job and make things pretty? No matter. I ate the cake – in 2 days. Every year I buy myself my own cake, I light my own candles, I sing to myself – how cheesy and pathetic. It’s twofold. One, my feeling that I have no one. Two, I secretly desire to celebrate each year, so even though I know it’s stupid, I still get my cake and candles and sing and make a wish. I secretly wish for a happy birthday every year, but what I want for it is just not possible. I also secretly wish for a happy christmas every year, and since that tends to often suck, i pretend i don’t care. I do hate xmas. But for reasons no one really knows about.
A while ago I said that I didn’t want to reach age 40. So I wait and see what will happen. The universe does provide, but it does so with meaness and a wicked humor that simply hurts. I think of the things I have wished for. When I loved him I was like, please, just let someone in his country, his circle, know about me – so it’s real, so I know he means it. Well, that’s about as much as something can backfire. Did I get my wish? Yes, completely. And it led immediately to the worst time of my life and almost killed me. (I have never ever ever lost weight when upset. That 1st week I lost 5 pounds in a few days. That’s pretty serious for me. The pain was overwhelming and I couldn’t even eat.).
I have prayed to the universe for a baby girl. And here she is, a baby girl lab puppy that I adore. I call her a good girl. i call her my baby girl. And the 1st time I said that, i realized what the universe had done. Given me a totally different version of what I was really asking for, while still technically “granting/answering” my wish. That’s not funny. That’s pretty fuckin’ cruel. And oh, how it makes it clear that this is it, Gisele. You got your wish. Done. Forget about wishing for that again. it’s already happened.
On my morning walk with the dog this morning, I thought about that while “not making it to 40″ thing. I have no idea what will happen. I think a majority percentage of me pretty much wishes it was true. And then i figure it will be something like I finally am happy at 39-and-1-month and then I’ll get hit by a car and die. Wish granted! If it should be true that I don’t make it to 40, even though I don’t foreseen happiness in my life, I figure the universe would be cruel enough to grant it just before it can take it away from me.
And what have I learned in my life? What was my success? What was my failure?
I learned that unconditional love is truly possible. I loved Jordyn with a love so strong that I would have given my life for her, without a second thought. The downside is that she will never remember, she was too young at 1 and 2. I remember, though, even as every year it’s more and more distant and frankly, Jordy likely doesn’t remember me at all. I mean, goddamn she even knows my mom better now.
I learned that it is possible to love another human being unconditionally. For all the mess and lies and fuckery of the whole thing, I did love him unconditionally. I couldn’t even get mad. It wasn’t even excuses I made for his behaviors. It was just that, no matter what, I knew I still loved him. I could be disappointed (a lot) and hurt and feel the unfairness of all he did to me, and the incredulity that he doesn’t even get what he did. Even more, it does piss me off that he never ever realizes how amazing it is to have someone out in the world love you unconditionally like I love him. Something like that is so rare. i can love people. But he’s the one I love unconditionally. For who he is, for the person I know is in there, for the him that I KNOW is there and I KNOW I saw. I’ve hated things he’s done. I’ve become pissed and angry and all that. But the difference is that all those feelings were about words and actions but never about him as a whole. I have tried to hate him (I’ve tried really really hard). i’ve tried to not love him (I’ve tried really really hard). Both are impossible. I have NEVER been able to hate him. I have never been able to not love him (in whatever way that may feel or manifest itself – from loving talking to him to being in love with him to simply loving his sense of humor…).
So I learned that unconditional love is possible. That is my “success” except it will never feel like one. Because as much as it may be my greatest gift, it is my greatest failure. I couldn’t make it work. And how said to know what love I am capable of, and not have the chance to experience it and share it. My greatest success is my greatest failure. And most of all, unconditional love for one’s child, well, that just is. So my greatest failure is that – never getting to be a mom. Or even be a wife/partner who can develop a beautiful love with someone else. Am I capable? Absolutely. Does it matte? Guess not.
Every year I get to this point and all I can see now is just that birthdays just mean getting older. They aren’t hopeful anymore or fresh starts or happy celebrations. They are just another mark of time passing. Of still being alone. Of how little things change. Of how little I change. Another year of being sad and alone. And to try to act otherwise would just be lying.
i reserve my fake smile and “celebration” for my free day at Disney. Of course, I will be alone. in the happiest place in the world, a place I adore. And there I’ll be, as usual, standing in line for a ride and when i get to the from having to explain that it’s just me. And then the person that runs the ride has to figure out where to put me. Who the fuck is there to ride things alone? Who is there just by themselves? Apparently, me. Thank god it’s free or I couldn’t bear to go. It would be like paying for the possibility of something and ending up pissed off at having paid for humiliation. This year, the humiliation is free.
I sound like someone who has no hope. I suppose that is who I am. I may not have tried hard enough and I know I have been too scared to try or do what I should have, need to, etc. I’ve done what I can, or what I feel I can. I have struggled every single year, truly struggled, to try to be simply ok. That’s as far as I have been able to go before the incredible weight of the struggle makes it hard to go on. It shouldn’t be a struggle every minute of every day. Even worse, something in me, the part with hope, no matter what I say or how angry or nonchalant I may act, has never died. And so I wale up on my birthday with a smile on my face at least for those first few seconds when I wake up and I think “it’s my birthday.” A fleeting, fragile moment, but ti always shows up. Same thing at xmas. I know it’s gonna suck and make me feel alone, without family, like shit. But every single year, without fail, no matter where I live, I still head to the living room after I wake up to see if Santa has come. Pretty sad, huh? the saddest part is that I am not even lying or exaggerating. I really do look for presents Santa left. i really do hope that each birthday will be different, better. And it’s all fleeting because that childlike, hopeful part of me – the part that somehow in spite of everything has managed to survive and not be crushed – just gets sad and wants to cry. Wouldn’t it be better to lose all hope? One less things to hurt so bad. But fuck it, it’s still there. And it just becomes another nuisance. That good part of me, the part that hopes and loves and wants to give of herself – just there. What good is it if I can’t let it out and be and live? A reminder that no matter what I can still love, I still have an incredible amount of love in me, a knowledge that if I had someone to love I am capable of truly loving them with all my heart… Well, so what? Doesn’t that hurt more than not having it at all?
I said I had no business posting. As the birthday nears I get so emotional and so discouraged and so angry at myself (SO VERY VERY ANGRY AT MY FAILURES) and I get severe anxiety. And I end up crying, just like I have started to do this very minute.
I like cards and emails so I can thinkt hat ok, people have not forgotten I exist. it proves I exist. And it proves that at least for a brief moment someone out there was thinking of me. I am someone if somebody sends me an email or card. I exist. But I don’t want flowers or presents or things that I have to fake smile about. I don’t want anyone (all 1 of you) to spend money you don’t have. My mom surprised me by sending me my favorite perfume, the only one I wear. It is part of our tradition since it is the only gift she can get right, so basically I receive it for either my bday or xmas, whenever it is closer to running out. I am grateful for it. I was more grateful that there wasn’t a bday card with it. Just a little piece of paper with Thinking of You stickers. The card will come, from her, from JP, and then the one that will make me cry the most, the one from Harley (because I let him down so much).
I don’t want any more birthdays like this. On Friday I bought that goddamn cake and I lit the goddamn candles and I was in the car driving home wondering if I would have vodka or margaritas (chose those, wrong choice). And there I was planning this sad commemoration and thinking of ways i could self-sabotage as usual, what fattening food could I get and how much (and after managing to eat ok for a good part of last week)… what more could I do to “celebrate” – making fun of myself, punishing myself, all bitter… And though I wasn’t serious I thought of that 33rd birthday. The worst one. The one where I was in so much pain (all that year) that I actually had trouble breathing (every minute of every day). I hurt inside and outside and all the time in some way or another. And that’s the first day I cut. Because of the pain. Because of how much I hated myself on that day. And I don’t cut anymore nor have the compulsion to do so (there really is such a thing as recovery, no matter how I may sound sometimes). Even with all this shit, it is hard to believe, but I am actually kinder to myself! Ha! Really. But in the car on Friday I thought of how I should hurt myself in some way. But it wasn’t a sincere thought. I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it. Because it would be so fake. because for whatever reason, even if in pain, I just don’t do that anymore. My brain is rewired when it comes to things like that.
The best thing I did all week was donate money to an animal rescue organization. I read about a dog that had been shot twice for no reason, I guess someone’s idea of fun. And the sheriff was called out to put the poor puppy out of it’s misery, to shoot it so it could just die and not be in pain anymore. And the man said that just as he raised his gun, the puppy looked at him right in the eyes and wagged his tail. That hurt puppy was still capable of love. And the sheriff saw it and he picked up the dog and took him to the vet and with his own money paid for the dog to get better. He saved him. He saw he was worth saving. And now that dog is alive, with a chance to have a home, with a chance to give all the lvoe in the world to someone. I read that and cried. How could I not donate to an organization that took in that dog and gave him what he needed? Salvation, home, love and care. I relate more to those dogs than I do to people. I can look in their eyes and recognize them. I can’t save myself, but I can do something for them, for these creatures that are simply programmed to love unconditionally, to give that love even to those that might have hurt them.
I’m not even making much sense anymore, I suppose.
If anyone who might read this wants to give me a gift (and I honestly don’t know why you should), please donate to A Place to Bark (or to the ASPCA) instead. (I will however, still take that Coldplay ticket.) Help loving creatures and give them the chance to love someone back. At least they can be saved. At least they can still have good lives. At least they are better than sitting at a computer on a Sunday morning, a few days from the dreaded 37, with pity and sadness and tears.
Right now at this moment I don’t care if I make it to 37 or 38, etc. The one person who needs me is Belle, and I think of how she would go live with Harley and eventually be ok without “mama.” I think if something happens to me I hope someone takes Belle to safety and home right away. So she doesn’t suffer. Doesn’t matter if I do. I already am.
What a pathetic creature. What a stubborn person that stands in her own way but wear to god just can’t see where to go, how, etc. What a person that, with each birthday, really does see herself as giving up completely. There’s not much fight left. There’s not the willingness to fight. Just accept hell, now or later or both. I can’t do anything about it.
I am too aware of what it is to love with all my heart and not be loved back.
It holds me back, I know. But I don’t know how to move on. Every time I try, I fall back into the same thinking and longing and a weird sense of love that no one but me understands.
I can love wholly and unconditionally – this much I learned, which is an amazing thing to realize. But it’s an awesome revelation that keeps going to waste.
