Happy Birthday to Me.

Yes, I do realize that writing Happy Birthday to Me makes me a huge dork. But it's not like I've exactly been hiding that aspect of my personality. I haven't really been hiding much of anything. In case there's anyone out there who has been reading long enough to have noticed this pattern.

I am happy today. Happy not to be going to a job I hate. To have my rent paid. To have gotten help from Julie and Kristine and have more help on the way. To be honest and flawed and still get help anyway. To make mistakes and get help. That's something I don't fully comprehend just yet. The whole thing is a bit heady to me. I'm much more comfortable giving than receiving. But now I don't have a choice. And I get that this was all supposed to have happened for some reason. That all these things that have happened to me-- the hard times-- were meant to.

Financial help has always been a hard thing for me to take or ask for. I knew my mother didn't have anything when I was growing up, so I didn't want to ask her for what wasn't there. I wanted to make her life easier. That's why I worked. I probably did derive some comfort from being able to take care of myself. And it probably became a crutch and this probably was my lesson. To learn how to receive.

Last year my birthday wish was that this year I'd be going out to dinner with someone I was in love with who loved me back. Someone who I didn't have to ask to take me out. Rather someone who wanted to. Someone who wouldn't expect me to pay my half of the bill whether it was my birthday or not. That didn't happen. My father never wanted to take care of me. And I'm enough of an asshole to recognize that and that every guy I was ever with who I would ask to take me to dinner wouldn't. Still, I stayed with them in some manner or another. Men who wouldn't give me what I wanted. Who didn't want to. And this was kind of a pattern-- Jobs and bosses. Roommates and friends. Because I didn't know how to walk away. Or maybe I was just scared to. Because something seemed to be better than nothing. That's what I believed. That if I walked away I'd have nothing.

Well, when I was hiking today, I realized having nothing made me get something. Finally. It made me get an opportunity to do what I want to do. To take a chance on me. It's not always just about hard work at whatever the price. And pain. It's also about faith. Me having faith in me and other people having faith in me, too. And it's also about risk. Because they're risking as much as I am. Actually, they're probably risking more. And that's a gift. A huge gift. To have people believe in you. To have people risk something they've worked hard to get. For me. And I appreciate it. Because they don't all have what they want either. They're trying to get there, too. But they're taking a risk to help me. They're risking what they want for themselves. And that's huge.

My ex-boss may have money. But I don't take his help for granted. He's flawed and successful and complicated. But he's also human and funny and infuriating and kind. And for some reason, he's coming through in a way that I never expected him to. And that's pretty cool. I have another friend who helped me in the past. At the wrong time for me to be helped and for him to help me. And I see that. I recognize it. My honesty and process is probably not easy for everyone to take. And definitely not for him. He's never even been to a funeral.

I think I'm about to get lucky. Not sex-wise. Although I wouldn't mind that frankly. It's been awhile. And it is my birthday. But. I think for now I'll realize that 38 may not look like I thought it would when I was eighteen, twenty-five, thirty-- but it looks better than 37. And that's saying alot.



Oh-- thanks to Kate for the funny man picture and the monkey a few days back. I was born in the year of the monkey. And the scrawl on the table? That was Kristine!

I love you all. Thanks for loving me back. Or liking me alot. Or even a little. That works. For now:)