Birthday Month Woes
It's my party & I'll cry if I want to
September is here which means my birthday month is upon us. Memories begin to bubble up for me. Living in the Valley means I am constantly reminded of birthday dinner locations of old.
Sizzler on Sepulveda in Van Nuys was the spot of several birthdays. The California Fish Grill in Woodland Hills used to be a Gaucho Grille with terrible service that my mom complained about on my birthday. A Mexican restaurant in Arleta used to be something else and I know I spent my birthday there. Red Lobster on Fallbrook in West Hills. This is the site of several birthday and other family occasions.
In the past two years my birthday was hard because my dad was gone. I would try to rally and think of all the birthdays I got to spend with him and how lucky I was to still have mom with me. I would cry at his grave. Mike would give me a hug. Then we would attempt to make happy memories at Disneyland.
This year I attempted to distract myself during birthday month by booking several things. Starting with Black Pink at the end of August. Followed by Beyonce this past weekend. Adele this coming weekend. Brunch with my high school and college homies affectionately known as “Bougie Bitch Clique” or “BBC.” Ending on a girl’s trip with a group of women who I’ve looked up to for most of my adult community organizing life.
It sounds fabulous right? A great distraction? The universe certainly saw what I was doing and gave me a nice kick in the pants.
An epic kick in the pants. However I did not let this debacle bring me down. Mike problem solved and we were able to get obstructed view tickets. I had a cathartic moment during “Break My Soul.” I screamed, cried, & danced in that moment and let everything go. The concert was a ball. I mean literally it was modeled after house balls. It was queer culture on full display and I loved every second of it.
Did I cry in the bathroom? Absolutely. Did I have start to hyperventilate because I paid so much money to be there? Of course. Did I start to have negative thoughts believing I fucked up in some way? Oh you bet your ass I did.
Yes I’m out the equivalent of what was half my rent for floor seats. Yes it fuckin sucks. Yes I’m pissed. But I also won’t let it break me. Because frankly I have been broken and shattered into so many pieces already.
I’m at the point that my psyche feels like a glass bottle that’s been broken to the point that I’ve turned into sand. Eventually the tide washes sand away to reveal beautiful things like sand dollars and seashells. Sometimes those glass bottles turn into sea glass.
This is me waiting to turn into sea glass. This is me being okay with everything not being okay. This is me figuring out how to move on. This is me figuring out how to make it.