a holiday of my own

my birthday is my favorite day of the year.  it's a holiday that's my very own...and it's all about me.  it's always been a day of festivities and celebration, all spent in the warmth and friendship of those i love.

well, not all.

since moving to st. louis, i've not had a memorable birthday.  i've not even had a birthday i'd label festive and celebratory.  they've all been enveloped in the undertones of the sadness and disappointment i feel in every breath i spend with my husband...and the loneliness that consumes me in his company.

i hate everything about him.  i hate the way my skin crawls when he comes near me, when he tries to hug me, kiss me, or express any level of affection.  and mostly i hate feeling trapped with him, that every day i have to get up and pretend that everything is okay with me because i know i'm incapable of being a good, attentive, and patient mother without him backing me up (even though he'll never amount to any more than just my back-up).

i don't know if this place we're in was inevitable.  but i know that, for me, it is irreversible.  i will never love him again.  i cannot love someone like him, with no initative, no gumption, no ability to take care of me.  he's like a child trapped in an adult's body, who can't think for himself, do for himself, or take care of himself.  i don't know how i was ever blind enough to think i was making the right choice in uprooting my whole life and all of my plans to start a life with him.

i'm grateful for my beautiful daughter, the home that becomes more mine every day, a fulfilling and enjoyable career, and the good friends i've made in my new life.  i just have to keep reminding myself that there are reasons to celebrate and be happy so that i don't let my impossible marriage ruin what little light remains in me.

and i can still have some hope, some little glimmer at the very least, that next week when my birthday falls, there will be something worth celebrating with people i want to celebrate with.

~k