Today was mine. And now I'm going to wallow/complain/cry it out to you GTers who are willing to listen.

Birthdays Are Overrated And I Hate Them.

I hate birthdays. I don't think I've had a "great" birthday since I was a kid. I can't tell if my expectations are too high, or if I'm just constantly let down, or what.

My husband has been gone for over 3 weeks for official army business, and he was coming home today. His time of release kept getting pushed back, so I spent my day sitting on the couch, waiting to hear when he'd be home. I had an "anywhere between 9am and 4pm" window. Kinda makes it hard to plan anything when you have a 7 hour time span of expecting someone to arrive.

He finally showed up a little after 3pm. Which was great and all, and I'm glad he's home, don't get me wrong. But then all we did the rest of the night was what HE wanted to do because he'd been gone for 3 weeks. He really wanted a specific beer you can only get at one of the local bars. Which meant my birthday "dinner" consisted of bar buffalo wings. I know, I know...I should have said "its my birthday, can we please go somewhere even remotely nice? I don't want to go to the bar we always go to for bar food for my birthday." I knew what he had been doing the entire time he was gone, so part of me wanted to be mindful of that. That maybe he deserved that beer he really wanted. But at the same time, a voice in the back of my head was saying "sure would have been nice if he asked you where you wanted to go, instead of saying 'I want wings and a beer, lets go here' and you just tagging along."

I feel like I got screwed out of a birthday dinner because he was only thinking about himself, because he'd been deprived of beer and halfway decent food for almost a month.

Then we got home, and he wanted to catch up on all of the TV he missed. So I spent the remainder of my birthday watching TV shows I don't even like.

And then my dad called.

I was already feeling shitty about the dud that was my birthday (because my birthday ends up sucking every fucking year - illness, snowstorms, being forgotten about, depression sucking up the desire to get out of bed, etc. etc.). And he kinda made me feel bad.

My dad isn't very good at conversation. You'd think I'd learn by now, after 31 years of this, that my dad's way of "starting a conversation" is by picking on you. And I hate it. I'm aware that he isn't doing it to be mean, but sometimes it still fucking hurts.

"Why are you answering your phone, you should be out partying. Why aren't you out doing anything? Didn't your husband take you out?" (Here's where it gets tricky. My dad is ok with my husband, but his little jabs at him like that, joking or not, make me feel like he's attacking my husband, and my defenses flare up. Even if my husband did something dumb, it's up to ME to do something about it. Because it's between me and my husband. I don't need my dad insinuating, at 31 years old, that my husband might not be good enough. We've been together long enough that even if my dad thought he wasn't good enough, there's nothing to be done about it. Unless, of course, he was being violent or awful, which is a completely different scenario. My husband's family has welcomed me with open arms since the day I first met them, and have even told me, jokingly, that they like me more than they like my husband. And yet my husband still feels as though he's trying to win my family's approval, and that hurts me, probably more than it hurts him. So when these little jabs are thrown, I get sad for my husband and upset with my family for not being accepting and loving with him as my husband's family has been with me.)

So anyways, to answer my dad's question, I said "Yes, he took me out already."

Dad: "Why so early? It's not even 8 o'clock yet and you're already done for the night?"

Me: "I was never much of a partier, I don't 'party.' He took me out already because he just got back after being on a bus for 18 hours and after being out in the field for 3 weeks. Its fine." I may have gotten a little snippy.

Dad: "Ok. Well, I just wanted to say Happy Birthday, so have a good night, I love you."

And then I felt instantly guilty. I know my dad doesn't mean to be mean, but sometimes it comes across that way. I was already having a shitty night, and then to get picked at like that upset me even more, even though I know he wasn't doing it on purpose. So now I feel like an asshole because of how I might have spoken to my dad.

Then I cut a slice of birthday cake, which I bought for myself, so I could eat my feelings. (I'm even considering a second slice and a glass of wine as I write this, because why the fuck not.)

My husband then conveniently decided he was tired and went to bed before 9:30, leaving me to pick up after him and take care of the dog and cat. I know he was at army for 3 weeks. But with him being gone so long, it was ME who had to do everything around the house without him, and that made me realize how much I do even when he IS around, which means I have zero help, always, no matter what. And that made me feel even worse. I get ZERO help around here. None. The only difference is when he's around I have about 100% MORE work to do, because he's messy and forgetful. He came back and I expected a second pair of hands to help me. How stupid of me.

And now I'm lying here on the couch, in the dark, crying, because once again my birthday sucked.

I wish there was a way I could make my birthday invisible to everyone including myself. That way I can't get disappointed and cry myself to sleep every year, and no one can remind me that its my birthday and that it's supposed to be a "fun day" and make me feel even worse because of it.