Happy Birthday

Halfway through the birthday. Of course, I am well aware in twenty-five minutes, it will be exactly six weeks sine Chad left me. Yes, I know I shouldn’t think about that, I know that’s pathetic, I know.

I just had lunch with they boys at Benny’s and then we went to Licks for ice cream. It was very nice, and luckily, with this bunch, I don’t have to say that much, I can just listen. It meant a lot that they showed up, and that they continue to be patient with me and not rush me to feeling what I don’t feel. They even honored my request of no presents (which, may sound strange, also meant a lot). I am so blessed with the people God has given me to walk through this life with.

I have had many rough and bad birthdays, often involving car wrecks, surgeries, dumb stuff. Number Thirty-one is by far the hardest (not that it had much choice since I have been dreading it so much). None that I have cried so much during. I hate how much it meant to me that I got a text from Chad around 10:30 this morning telling me happy birthday and how much I deserve a good day. I also hate I had a hard time breathing until that point because I was afraid he would forget, even though I knew he wouldn’t—he always keeps his word.

Now it is off to mom and dad’s for dinner. I am so glad I have them as well (and my brother). I wish I could say that I wouldn’t cry up there, but I don’t know if I can keep that. A mutual friend of Chad and I saw me at the gym this morning (he was Chad’s friend first), and I started to cry when he asked me how I was. He was concerned about me, and said that I soon needed to decide to not let it bother me. This is what I tell my kids too, that we choose to be happy. Most of the time, I believe that, but right now, I don’t know how to choose that, how to quit grieving, how to stop hoping he’ll choose me again, how to stop wishing I would have been enough for him. I don’t know how, but I so want to. I’m tired of hurting.