Ending my Birthday Trauma
When I first came to America in the year 2000, my family stayed with a cruel paternal aunt. My father's eldest sister petitioned my family to become immigrants, but at a cost. Those memories, however, are unreliable, as I'm unsure of the details due to age and constant storytelling. What I do remember was being abused in that household and my family sharing stories throughout the years about my auntie's mistreatment. Like the time when it was my birthday and my newly-immigrated family wanted to celebrate with a cake. My aunt told my caretakers, "she doesn't deserve a cake, she's unlovable." Or the time when my cousins were playing a game, asked if I could play and ended up losing my two front teeth because my cousins played a trick on me; I lost my two front teeth because my cousin intentionally caused me to trip and hit my teeth on a wooden table. Additionally, my first love bought me my first legal drink and ended up having breakup sex. 21 was a wild year. I have one year left in my 20s and intend to take what I’ve learned, do better, and leave the negative memories behind and enter my 30s with better memories. Lastly, my atrocious surprise birthday party that left deep, emotional scars and solidified my birthday trauma, but I'm ready to get over this shit for my dirty 30s.
After the hype of Halloween, people are usually hungover or tired on my birthday, which is fine because I've dealt with it too. My family would always joke about how my birthday was a sad day and I'm not going to lie, reflecting on it now, that shit really affected me. I was essentially not given permission to celebrate my birthday. I don't remember when my child-like magic went away, but I had to grow up faster than most. My birthday is all soul's day in the Philippines, a very similar concept to dia de los muertos, but make it depressing. It's a very solemn holiday for us, offering food to our dead relatives and ancestors, and general reflection on life. It's a beautiful holiday, I just strongly dislike that it is also my birthday. 21 is the legal age of drinking in America, but it's also the age when my symptoms started! Imagine, you're taking your regular jog when you notice yourself tripping on your own right foot and have to be cautious about falling for 2 miles; I loved the runner's high though. When I limped back home, I examined my feet and noticed that I had a harder time moving my right toe. No matter how hard I tried to neurologically connect with my right toe, I could barely wiggle it. This is the beginning of my disability story which is a completely different blog!
My birthday year leading up to my 21st was my intentionally messy year. I had no (and still have none) desire to go to Vegas due to my gambling addiction genes. Instead, I had a babysitting gig in the city which paid $50/hour because it was the parent's night out. I remember the little infant too, only waking up once during my 4-hour shift. I had plans to meet up with my friends, but they had switched plans on me and I was rightfully pissed. This led me to go to Alameda where my first love lived and he ended up buying me my first legal drink and ended up having make-up sex. Like anything in my past, I don't regret anything because I wouldn't be the person I am today if it weren't for these events. When I became officially disabled, my family threw me a surprise birthday party. There was this cafe that I frequented in Downtown Pittsburg, CA, near the water. My brother, bless his heart because I knew he had good intentions, but I didn't want a surprise party (at least not back then. I would love a surprise party now) and invited some of my friends. I don't like to live with regrets, but my God, was it the worst experience in my life. Not only were my friends intermingling, which I was at an advantage against at the time, but they filmed me and I saw myself as a disabled person for the first time. I started sobbing, mourning the loss of control over my body. I was inconsolable and this affected my body image for the next couple of years.
Add in car accidents, family trauma, and ending friendships into the birthday cake! Each year, my caretaker/brother knows now to ask for what I want for my birthday and vise versa; we're both Scorpios. Honestly, I cannot wait to age and die happy, and hopefully, surrounded by the children I helped raise. I've gotten through so much that I should be living my life to the fullest, but also keeping in mind the purpose for living. My personal purpose in life is healing and calling people out when they are being rude as fuck. Our society is sick and riddled with malicious leaders that need to be stopped (or dare I say, assassinated). They should be held accountable for the harm they have caused others and that's why I'm still alive. I'm, as Samara Weaving's line in Scream 6, "a voice for the voiceless, you might say…" Please tell me y'all have seen Scream?
