Well, roughly 2 hours ago my husband went to bed, and perhaps knowing I didn’t work the next morning caused a lapse in any effort made on his part NOT to wake me up.
I went to bed at 9:45, which is my usual. Unfortunately, even on the nights when I know I can stay up late I’m still tired af from my 4:30 wake-up that morning. Happens every Friday.
But, most unusually, I couldn’t get back to sleep. I tried for a valiant two hours. Maybe knowing I wouldn’t be startled awake by an alarm inspired me to get up. So here I am. And I was thinking, as I lie in bed hoping I’d be asleep soon, that the gifts I’ve received for my birthday so far are pretty indicative of the relationships I have with those people.
My work friend gave me a cast iron skillet. She bought it over 2 months ago, gave it to me unwrapped in the bag from the store with a card that was definitely from the vendor kiosk at work. I’m not an ungrateful bitch, I like what she got me because she asked what I wanted and that was something i’d been wanting but didn’t feel like buying myself. Specialty kitchen products, am I right? But the whole not wrapping it and work card, that is SO her. Despite the fact that she told me back in February when she bought it.
My together sister in law gave me two fancy organic chocolate bars (1 of which I will eat) and three cases of La Croix (1 of which I will drink). She’s a practical human being, for sure, but she doesn’t know me too well. Of course I know it’s unusual to hate EVERYTHING that is fruit-flavored and to ONLY drink one kind of La Croix…but here we are. My hot mess sister in law gave me a necklace with a large heavy charm that comes apart, somewhat like a locket to reveal the bottom half is a large magnifying glass. It’s almost like a Mr. Peanut monocle on a necklace. I really like it.
But those two bday gifts from his sisters are so indicative of their personalities it’s crazy.
My best friend, arguably my only real friend since work friend and I really only interact the one workday a week we get lunch, hasn’t sent anything. Usually she’ll mail a card (gets here late, she’s in medical school so it’s kind of understandable) and give me my gift in person…which the next time i see her might be Christmas, unless I have the $ to go visit her.
Then there were the things my mother in law got me, which were picture frames, a Yankee candle wax melter or something (which is great because I can’t have open flames around my Himalayan cat – if you’ve ever seen one of those you get why) and a purse-backpack. The third thing seems so 90s to me and I’m like agh are those styles so old they’re actually going to come back now? It’s time already? I always thought it was neat because my Grandma was born in 1918, and I was born in 1988. So the 1920s were to her what the 1990s were to me. Which is crazy to think about. I guess I wouldn’t be so fixated on things like this, except it’s my birthday (I’ve only mentioned 80 times by this point). Forgive me, I think I kind of partially explained that most of my birthdays were ruined by one thing or another. I remember at least two as a child claimed by illness, like throwing up illness. I know for certain my 17th was ruined because my dad decided he needed to start acting like a lunatic in Lonestar Steakhouse and that got my Grandma REALLY upset (which was of course a goal of his) and that in turn just SO set off my mother. In the usual cycle of things, my mom would then take it out on/complain solely to little ol’ me. In my angrier moments I think about how my mom was like oh, I don’t need to have my own therapist or best friend or sister or free maid, I’ll just give birth to one. Come to think of it my Grandma was a free maid as well. When I moved out was the first time in almost two decades that my mom was on her own with her housekeeping. Never thought about that until just now. (Sidenote – that’s what writing does, doesn’t it? At least for me, it’ll make me think and communicate about a topic MUCH differently than if i were speaking. It also makes me realize things…to a certain extent) There were only birthdays also ruined by the ill behavior of my dad and his equally horrendous son. So, I kind of had this hate-hate relationship with celebrating my birthday for a few years. Plus I mean, if you weren’t a loser, let me fill you in, when you’re an adolescent, and in high school, it REALLY sucks when you see other people get treated like fucking celebrity/royalty status for their birthday….while other people literally get nothing. It sucks not having friends for stuff like that, or a boyfriend. I definitely had neither for a lot of my young life. But I’d rather have been single then than be single now, so….
But anyway, I’m hoping I can fall back asleep sometime soon. Not that I have too many plans going on. But, today’s permanent make up day. Then i guess coming home and waiting for my husband to get out of work. We’re still kind of economically recovering from his loooooong period of unemployment so it’s not like much else can be done. Oh well, it could be worse. Though I’ve heard some strong hinting that he doesn’t like this job and wants to quit and I’m just like “suck it up, motherfucker!” at this point. I mean I worked a job(s) I hated (three to be exact) for ELEVEN years, WHILE attending high school then college full time (with 1 year off between my BA and MA), and somehow I made it. Like the idea that you just have to fucking love your job, and it’s okay to work a pointless, dead-end job if it makes you temporarily happy instead of this mystery dream job you don’t have…those are VERY strong themes with my husband and his half-sister through his mom. Plus my husband does this thing that I wouldn’t mind if it didn’t hint at a MUCH deeper aimlessness, it’s like he has career ADHD (he does have regular ADHD, so I’m not hating just listen to my analogy) whatever he’s presently looking at, that suddenly becomes what he thinks he should do with his life.
If we’re drinking coffee, we should open a coffee shop.
If we’re cooking dinner, we should open a restaurant.
I think you get the idea. And I wouldn’t mind just random conversation making, and I guess it’s good he always seems to be looking for different ideas for his career. But they suspiciously all involve his opening and running a business, being his own boss, etc. It’s like…you do realize the capital necessary for start up and the likelihood of failure in the first five years? Oh yeah that’s just what our marriage needs. I hear it’s great for a relationship to go bankrupt over a failed business venture. Plus it’s kind of disheartening to hear how unsure and changeable his ideas for the future are…as it would be for most people I think.
But I guess my ideas for the future aren’t so concrete. I could stay in my current job. I’m like a 7/10 content with this job (compared with a 3/10 and that’s generous for my last job). The medical insurance sucks though, and they don’t match 401(K) at all, so that’s annoying. But there’s also some good stuff, not to mention my boss likes me and is super cool as far as bosses go, and my job utilizes a lot of parts of my personality and background that don’t pertain to literature, which leaves me all my creative energy for non-work. Like this. But I could just as easily leave if something with better pay came along. That’s all it would take. Plus there are certain random things about my job I would not miss. But that’s true of all jobs, I know it. But anyway enough about a place i don’t have to think about for 4 days.
I think part of my inability to get back to sleep is the three beers I had last night. My stomach is finally at full normal, and it being a special occasion (ha) I went for it. But something about being at all hungover makes it nearly impossible to fall asleep once woken. You learn that sort of thing the hard way. Like when your shitty smothering father calls and calls the morning after your 21st birthday, and you HAVE to go in to class that afternoon to take a Spanish final (my birthday is at a bad time of the year once you get into college…learn that the hard way too) and you miss out on a possible four hours of sleep because of his obnoxious annoying ass.
And yes before you even take in the breath you need to launch your tirade about what an ungrateful little cunt I am, you just have to ask yourself – is an abuser capable of caring about his victims? Like am I REALLY supposed to think that there’s some sinister half and half shit where he’s actually a good person but he always let the abuse from his own past control him? Well guess what he doesn’t get out of it that easy. And since it’s not some Jekyll and Hyde shit, it’s that ALL of his actions stem from a bad, shitty person, even the ones veiled as caring-father-BULLSHIT-101, which he was gooood at.
That’s one of the creepier things I would come to notice as I grew up, how talented my dad is/was at faking it around people. He was so different around anyone he might want to impress, it was just dumbfounding because you couldn’t believe he even KNEW how to be nice/pleasant, he was always so awful to his family behind closed doors. And he was always going out of his way to make sure we stayed that way. He tried to keep all of us as isolated to the family (and that was JUST the nuclear family, as he despised my mother’s relatives who lived minutes away) as he could. I always wondered what it was like to have a dad that didn’t actively try to stop/end your friendships.
So I’ve had irritating experience with post drinking insomnia before. Which is crazy because I usually never have trouble sleeping. I have a very boring, regular sleep schedule that involves never being up past 11pm. It’s all right.
I guess if i had to look back on my 28th year, it was pretty good, things have only improved for me in the past few years. There’s still…you know…the gaping crater of the issue that I’m basically waiting for my dad to die so I can see my mom again. I mean, unless the dude gets a lobotomy, I don’t see what else could change him to the point of toleration. I don’t get what else could go down. And I mean, they’re both early 60s, my mom’s only 59, so….it could be awhile.
There’s a teeny, tiny sliver of me that doesn’t want to have kids because I wouldn’t even get to have my own mother be a part of the situation, like at all, without having to somehow reconcile with my dad. And I’m not doing that. There’s no middle ground with people like him, so it’s either 100% compliance, or you’re on the shit list. And boy you don’t want to be on the shit list. And you never know if you’re on, or off, but you BETTER answer that phone the invasive 4 times a week he calls you! OR FUCKING ELSE. Then, when we did call, it was the horrendous cliched terrible parent conversation, on steroids, times about 60. He’d do 98% of the talking. A roommate once noticed that and remarked on it. She said something along the lines of “Whenever your dad calls, you never say anything but “Mmhmm” ” I was like YEAH FUCKING TELL ME ABOUT IT. My mom, in that weird way she’s smart-stupid, has remarked many times that she doesn’t understand why my dad doesn’t pick up on the concept when the other person is only making the slightest affirmative noises it means they’re not interested or engaged in what you’re saying. Most people care about that, but not my pointless father. He just needs to pontificate and be heard and know he’s talking at someone. It’s because he’s high. I kind of understand, but the fact that he uses it as a means of torture it the deal-breaker. I like rambling too (OBV). Like he’d make you stand to the left of his easy chair and the TV, and he’d lecture you, making you stand the whole time, or he’d make you sit. That was actually worse because you knew he’d just popped a FEW a was ready to go off (because he’d get pissed about something and not be able to let it go). Actually, he can’t let anything go. I mean that’s what healthy people do so obviously he wouldn’t do that.
But of course I didn’t piece together the whole prescription drug abuse thing until WAY after I moved out. I’m slow to realize shit because I’m repressing A LOT. If you haven’t realized that by now I’m beginning to suspect you lot are only tuning in for the sex stories. Of which I really don’t have any new ones…so….sorry?
So, to an unruined birthday! Because…I mean I’ve had a lot of not great ones. I explained the birthdays of my youth, then again, when you’re in college, this part of April? HA! Finals city! Final-huge-paper-of-the-semester CONTINENT!
Easter falls on my birthday every once in a blue moon. The last time it happened i spent the ENTIRE day writing a paper for a grad class. My husband, in a not-smart move, worked because I “was going to be busy anyway” when really he just has a hard time not letting people use him and his shitty work at the time wanted him to come in to give their regulars Easter off. So I spent my Easter-birthday alone writing a paper, and my laptop cord chose THEN to stop working. I suddenly wouldn’t have a laptop to write this paper due the next day on. I wasn’t starting a 20pg from scratch, but I NEEDED that day, for sure. Luckily Best Buy was open and I had bday $ to buy a cord adapter kit and it WORKED! I literally cried with relief. I think that’s the only time I’ve done that. So that was 25 I think. Then just so many other years (since i was in college 8 years…like a doctor….) I had other huge papers due on or around my birthday, it just kind of ruins it.
Also – side note, I’m never really trying to complain. That’s not the point of this. The point of this, if it exists, is to exist. I’m aware there are MUCH sadder things in life than having a paper due on your birthday. Like really, really aware.
But I guess that’s all for now? Wish me luck that I don’t get stabbed in the eye today! The pain doesn’t worry me, because really how long can it last? I’ve had braces and extensive gynecological procedures, but something someone’s drilling into my eyelids should be scary? Pft. But the concern that the person doing it is going to get bumped into and half-way blind me is a genuine.
Either way, I feel I’ve gotten sufficiently high to attempt sleeping again. So. Farewell.