Growing up before my mothers alcoholism became present, birthdays were a big deal in our family.
I remember coming home from school, and the house would be decorated with balloons and streamers, and my mom would always plan parties with all of my friends. I used to be so excited for my birthday. I knew I’d get a special cake, and I knew they would always be great.
The last birthday I remember having was a birthday party with a magician. I loved magicians. Having cake afterward and opening up all my gifts just felt like the best day ever.
Another birthday I remember that upset me a bit was finding out my older sister and I would share the same cake and celebrate the same day seeing our birthdays were close together. Looking back as upset as I was over, what my birthdays turned into, I would take a joint birthday again.
For whatever reason, my mother on my birthdays would bring me to the liquor store with her. She’d give me a card in the car showing she loved me. When we would get into the liquor store she’d get teary-eyed talking to the cashier, telling them it’s my birthday and I’m growing up so fast.
We’d get in the car, and she’d take out her beer she bought and drinks and blasts music, then sings me happy birthday.
I was so angry with her for ruining my birthdays, and I’d always just gone home and cried.
She’d call up to me to come down to the basement, and I knew why and dreaded it. I was named after John Lennon s’ mother, so my mom would play the Julia song for me on my birthday and talk about the day I was born and how happy she was. She did all of this while slurring her words from drinking.
Once my mothers alcoholism took over, parties just weren’t the same. We never had parties at my house anymore, seeing it wasn’t a fit environment to invite people over to.
I remember having a few skating parties though with my friends and family. My mother was never present, seeing she’d be home unconscious from drinking too much.
So, for many years, I found no enjoyment in my birthdays, and I never felt like celebrating.
As I got older though I started to see my mother tried her best to be present and to celebrate birthdays with her kids, but her alcoholism took over taking away any fun it could have been having her around.
I used to hold onto the cards she wrote me every birthday, seeing she seemed like she really cared when I would read how genuine her writing was. I would save them in a box, but that box of birthday cards disappeared due to my mothers worst breakdown ever.
To be continued….
The Outspoken Advocate 