for my birthday this year i received an email from peter, and by extension, my stepmother. that sentence alone isn’t random but in the context of my life, it totally is. because my birthday hasn’t been acknowledged by them in about 10 years. so you can imagine my bleary eyed flabbergasted expression at 7am sunday morning, in bed at the B&B i was staying at, when i opened that email on my crackberry. i rolled over and tried to fall back asleep. but no dice. because that effing email wedged its way into my conscious thought and there was no way i could shut my brain down. and somehow, a possibly well meaning email stalled my groove and i spent the
morning last two days mulling over it.
my initial reaction to his simple note, basically hoping that “all my wishes came true” and that i should call them when i wasn’t “busy” and they “missed me” was absolute fury. i don’t have their phone number, they have mine (i’ve had the same effing number for the last 8 years) and the fact that i should be the one to call makes me not want to call. at all. which takes me back to when i was 12. again.
i am 33 years old + 1 day and i still get upset every.single.time. i hear from them.