The one about my birthday

I am turning 47 this year. I'm starting there because I don't want you to think I have feelings about aging. I'm aging wonderfully. I really can't complain about my aches and pains when I know I'm blessed to have seen this many years. I'm turning 47, and that is a fabulous thing. 

No, this post is about celebrating my birthday/not celebrating my birthday/feeling like I don't get celebrated at all. Maybe it is a function of age, but I also see people my age having massive blow-outs with friends, and I can literally count on my hand the number of people in my personal life that wish me a happy birthday each year and they are all family. I'm not talking about those pre-made Facebook wishes; I am talking about people who text me or see me and wish me a happy birthday. If people at work know my birthday, then they will also wish me a happy birthday.

Last year, I purposefully turned off my birthday on Facebook to see who actually knew it was my birthday. Yes, it was a trap for me to prove that people don't actually know me. I got a text from two people, one work birthday month twin and one from across the ocean. I still had a few Facebook birthday wishes since my mother made a post and actually, so did I. I forgot that Livewell, my gym, gives you a free smoothie if you go to the gym on your birthday so of course I have to post my birthday smoothie. But this isn't about Facebook wishes or texts. This is about celebration. I love my husband but he is the worst about celebrating anything. He doesn't do Valentine's day or anyone's birthday. Like he forgets everyone equally and I suspect most wives would say that about their husbands. There is a reason the husband running about at the last minute for birthday/Christmas/anniversary gifts is a trope. 

I think this is where a woman's friends come in. Someone in her circle makes sure to try and go for a celebration coffee or drink. That is what I haven't had for a long time. As I was turning 40, I decided that I would finally run a marathon. My thought was if I start my 40s with a marathon, then all of my birthdays in my 40s had to be better than that. So I did run a marathon in the Texas heat; it was over 90 degrees by the time I was done. I didn't think any birthday could be as bad as finishing a road marathon on black pavement but I was so wrong! 

 My worst birthday was my 45th. My dad was in the hospital somewhere between life and death. He wished me a happy birthday and told me he was ready to die if it was his time. I think I had over 100 Facebook wishes that year. My husband actually took me for rolled ice cream to celebrate my birthday since there was a shop not too far from the hospital. It is hard to think about yummy rolled ice-cream when your dad is on death's door. He came home a week later. Crisis averted, new birthday trauma level achieved. 

I am writing about the past to vomit it out once and for all. The "friends" who never called. The "friend" who took me for coffee only to leave me halfway through to go talk to a real friend of theirs. The "friend" who gave me a present months after my birthday but never actually wished me a happy birthday. 

Why the word vomit? Well, my life is so different today than one year ago. Since my last birthday, I feel like I actually have friends who care about me and who might actually celebrate me if given an opportunity. See, just about a month after my birthday, I joined the Pride Alliance of Lufkin (PAL). It is a group of people that I absolutely adore. I have since joined the board and even hold the distinction of founding member for my work as Treasurer. There are some long days of planning and executing, but much like my job, I love it, and seeing the impact in the community makes it all worth it. 

Back in January, I started my journey to join Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Inc. I crossed at the end of February with six amazing sisters as a member of the ChoZen Seven. The love and sisterhood I feel each and every day is not really possible to describe in words. It is a glowy and spirit-filling kind of sisterhood. 

Honestly, both groups give me a sense of love and celebration that I haven't felt in years. So I'm turning my birthday back on Facebook, if I can figure it out (it was such a pain to figure out how to turn off). While maybe no one will call me or text me this year either, I feel like I have enough distance from my 45th birthday that I can risk that disappointment. My birthday is on a Tuesday this year and the weekend before my birthday, I'm in Virginia. While the majority of that trip is for work, I have actually scheduled myself a couple of days with my friend from college. A couple of days with a person who loves me despite all of my bullshit (and she knows all of it since we have been friends for almost 30 years) and time in the Blue Ridge Mountains. As I slide into my 50s, here is hoping I learn to celebrate myself since external celebrations are in short supply for most people.  May the lessons of the last 46 years not turn me bitter but help me be a better person.  So here's to turning 47!

The Invitations that never came

 So we are about 20 days after by birthday and I'm still all pruney in the hurt.  So I took some deep breaths and tried to work my mind through the hurt.  I need to find the base otherwise I'll stay stuck in the moment.  

A couple of days ago, a former student and now Facebook friend posted a graphic about getting okay with the invitation that never come and understanding that you were never part of their plans.  It resonated with me immediately.  This whole birthday thing really reminds me that these friends of mine aren't actually my friends but somewhat close acquaintances that I forgot were acquaintances.  I have to remember that not everyone who calls you a friend actually means it.

So this is not a new lesson.  Yesterday, I was almost on the other side of the hurt and then I saw a fucking video.  Oh, so you are back in town.  Then a post, oh so you are making big plans.  To her credit, the other one is keeping her plans secret as they seem to involve a secret so at least I don't have to see it yet.  Anyways, my feels got all hurt again.  So that leads to this morning; why am I still so in this hurt?  Why can't I let go of the rope that is clearly cutting my hands?

The NPR station started going in and out, which I hate, so I turned on my Bluetooth and basically played playlist roulette.  I couldn't remember what I had been listening to the last time I was listening to Spotify so it could be anything.  This is of course when the universe steps in: Cycles by Jonathan McReynolds featuring DOE.  If you don't know the song, it is a Christian song reminding us we have to break the bad cycles in our life.  We continue to repeat them unless we acknowledge them.  

Okay universe, let's turn inward and really dig.  What is bothering me?  Seriously, it's not like this is the first time "friends" have been asshats to me.  What is my issue?  My 44th birthday, really?!  A little deep breathing and boom: being in elementary school and not being invited to birthday parties but hearing all about how much fun they had the previous weekend.  Concerts my college "friends" would go to and tell me about it afterward.  The trips my work "friends" would go on during the summer and I would get to hear about later.  The invitations that never came.  

It is less that I'm not invited but that I'm forgotten or really my feelings disregarded. I understand why I didn't get invited to the parties, my parents treated us like my brothers and I were triples so you weren't just inviting me, you were inviting the whole family.  I get it, I didn't know the band or have the money for the concert and the car was full.  We aren't trip-taking friends just folks that work together.  So I do understand I don't count in those situations; why consider my feelings?  I'm not a consideration at all.  That doesn't mean it didn't hurt my feelings or that it wasn't until that moment that I hadn't realized I didn't have friends.  

So the hurt isn't 44-year-old Martha but 8-year-old Martha and 20-year-old Martha and 30-year-old Martha.  I keep letting myself get hurt and the worst part is I court it!  One of these "friends" once told me that he was going to join me at a drag show but then decided I wasn't the drive or effort so he didn't bother.  I still speak to this person.  Y'all why am I allowing myself to be hurt by someone who so obviously do not care about me?  He has his head so far up his own ass that this isn't a special statement about forgetting me, it is just who he is.  The one "friend" I have known the longest has always dropped me faster than fast whenever she gets a "better" offer.  The newest of these "friends" is just a workout partner.  I have to remember that she will never be more than that so why am I placing any blame at her feet?  The sharing ends at the end of the run, period.  When I had that straight in my mind, everything was cool.

So I am feeling better as I write this.  Finding the root of the hurt and finally putting everyone in their place in my life is what I needed to do back on May 28th.  I wasted a lot of energy on being hurt.  How do I fix this nasty pattern?  That is a much longer project and currently, I have no plan.  The easy flippant answer is to say I'll never speak to those people again and find actual friends but I know that this is a strong life pattern rooted deep inside of me.  I'll just do it all over again and again.  Pattern breaking is so much hard work but I know I'm worth my effort so step one: recognize the pattern.  Step two, I'm not sure yet.

Reflections on running and betrayal

I've run 9 miles in three days. On Saturday, DH kicked me out of house and sent me running. The air was hard to breathe; it was so caked with water but there was no rain in sight. I hate summers in East Texas. Back in my high school days this would have been the opening years race. Always the hardest one since you can't breathe and are still getting back in shape. Back then I would have only run 2 miles. That was the race and that was my end point. Saturday, I ran 5 miles. I was so slow. It was so difficult but it got done and I felt great after I ate. I managed to run it in about 70 mins. Honestly not that bad and I ran it instead of doing a walk/run combo. My longest run ever! Today I went for a 4 mile run and the weather was a bit better and I took a less hilly route. I managed to shave a minute off my last 4 mile time.

I keep getting up and going for my runs. I try for 3 times a week and average about 2.5 miles per run and I manage and turtle pace of 13:45 per mile. I don't look pretty at any point, before, during, after. I doubt myself before and during and I always feel like I could go a bit farther after each run. I feel stronger and more centered. What do I think about for 2.5 miles? I get my mind ready for my day. I let go of the past. I try to meditate on the lessons life is trying to teach me. Honestly for most of the run I am trying to talk myself to keep going. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

It's just a run. It doesn't really change the world but at the same time, I am a changed person. I smile more. I'm a better wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend. I don't hold on to things/thoughts. The runs don't leave room to hold on to negative thoughts. I have to believe in me and my body and I can't be worried about gossip if I'm facing a hill and 4 miles to go.

So what does that have to do with betrayal. I mean that is the real reason you are sticking with this post, the dirt! There really isn't much dirt to share. The last week has brought betrayal back to the forefront of my mind. Yesterday's sermon was about reaping what you sow. Oprah's life class was about betrayal among women. A close friend of DH's was dealing with some betrayal his life. From all of this I see this: each betrayal is a lesson about me. They teach me to be more careful in who I trust. They teach me to analyze my own motivations in sharing information. They teach me.

I am a very hard headed person. I have had some friends that taught me that I trust too easily. I give too much. I require too much. Because I don't listen, these are lessons that I've had to have repeated exposure to. I am a trusting soul. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I look as everyone as my friend. Jeffery Duhmer and I would have been tight right up until he killed me for opening the fridge. DH really keeps an eye on who I hang with because I just trust everyone. However, I am learning to keep my mouth shut and listen more. I don't blab my whole life to everyone anymore. I am learning that I am me and I only control me. Just because I help someone move doesn't mean they will ever return the favor and that is my issue not theirs. I can not expect someone to react the way I would react. I have to accept people for whom they are and not who I expect them to be. I am learning. I am trying to be more zen and just roll with the hills of life. All past betrayals are forgiven but the lessons are not forgotten. I am learning.

Just a photo from my local running group. Seems to apply to a lot of my life not just running.