Monday, September 12, 2011


My birthday is this week.

I was looking through some old posts here and noticed a pattern.  For the past two years, I have never posted in the month of September.  Until now.

I don't know exactly what that means.  I want it to mean that I'm stronger.  I want it to mean that I'm healing.

I despise my birthday.  It celebrates the cruelest of jokes.  The day I was born into that family.  If you can call them that.

But as my daughter has grown, one of her very favorite things is to celebrate a birthday.  I have had to grit my teeth and smile because it's certainly not her fault that I don't enjoy marking the day I was born.

And then there's my husband.  Sans one year that he forgot; he likes to be extravagant.  I don't care for extravagant anything.

This year feels different.  I still don't want the fanfare or gifts but I'm at some sort of peace with the day.  My memories of years before are still hell but I'm not drowning in their depressing sorrow either.

Am I happy?  Not really.  I feel grief well up from my hurting heart. 

I am also alive and that was no small feat.  Dead before 30.  A "doctor" spoke it.  And I believed it.  But somewhere along the way I learned to fight. 

It hasn't been easy.  It's still not easy.  But I also have a sense of pride to have fought and won.

I can't say that I'm always glad to be alive.  But I survived and that has to count for something.

This year I choose to celebrate survival.


JeannetteLS said...

I felt that way for a long time... until a friend said, "So why shouldn't we want to celebrate the day you were born? You matter to US." That marked a beginning of realizing that the family of my adult heart were not my relatives, by and large. Your daughter is glad you were born. What a wonderful thing. leave off the "into that family" and just go with "onto this earth" and maybe you will learn to be a little more okay with the day. I was told I would be dead by forty or in a wheelchair by more than one doctor. They do us a TERRIBLE disservice when they speak like that. They are not Gods and should never hamper our recovery from ANYTHING with talk like that. I am fifty-nine.

My late daughter's birthday was in September. I celebrate HER on that day, and I try not to mark the August date of her death. I hope that you one day can feel that perhaps it's a good thing that you are here, breathing, loving, writing, and letting us all in on your very personal journey. I have found that sometimes people have benefitted from the sharing of my many, MANY mistakes and missteps along the way.

i am so glad I read you blog today. You touched my heart, so I think it's a great thing that you were born, as much as I see the pain for you of WHERE and into WHAT FAMILY you were born. Breathe and think what it might be if your daughter were not here. Without you, she wouldn't be. Take care, please.

Just Be Real said...

Appreciate what you shared and reading the comment above also makes sense. Safe hugs to you dear one.

Ruth said...

Oh Jennifer, it seems like so much to me, just this peace. Happy Birthday.

Shattered said...

Jeannette, born onto this earth is so much better. Thank you for your perspective!


Shattered said...

JBR, thank you! So far it's shaping up to be a pretty good week...


Shattered said...

Thank you, Ruth. I'll take some peace over just about anything. I'm glad it comes through as I write.


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