love, life, and the pursuit of liberation
I sometimes wonder if going completely off the deep end will grant me relief. I’m not sure if it’s because there will be nothing left to fear, or if it’s the left over rescue fairy tale of my childhood.
When I was a kid my sister was frequently hospitalized for severe bladder and kidney infections. I was jealous of the attention. I always wanted to be that one– not self-sufficient. Adored. Saved.
When I was a kid I also used to have fantasies of being rescued by Michael Jackson or Prince (*shaking my head at how gay I was even at 6 years old*). I used to wear my purple nightgown and sometimes stuff the chest area to create breasts. If I couldn’t wear my favorite purple San Francisco gown, at least I wanted it to be a matching set with coordinated panties. My mom would get mad and couldn’t understand why I needed to match to go to bed. She didn’t know that after midnight, Michael Jackson and Prince would arrive outside my window underneath the carport and duel for the honor to rescue me.
Now it’s 27 years later and I still feel the same way. I crave attention and wanting to be wanted. I realize no doctor is going to miraculous save me either. I feel so invisible and unimportant and dispensable. I feel like a function or a role. I used to pretend that those feelings were just situational but it seems to be a common theme.
I also realize that my birthday is coming up and I’ve grown to hate my birthday. Not only because it’s the day after 9/11 which is still traumatic for me, but because every year I have these hopes of being the princess for the day and that doesn’t really happen. For my 30th, my wife had a personal issue going on. I think we went to dinner a few days later. for my 31st, she had class and I shopped at Walmart for the day solo with LA. For my 32nd, my sister and her wife came out to surprise me. I took them around the Jersey shore. This year, I wish I could just skip the day altogether. It causes me too much anxiety.
I sound like a crazy, whiny woman.