It’s been a while. Did you miss me? Did you think I’d been scared away? Or maybe I left or gave up on the blog – finally deciding to shut my pie hole?
No. I was here.
Waiting and watching for April’s storms to subside.
As far back as I can remember, along with April’s showers, the month has been plagued with misery. From the first day to the very last, April’s showers have brought with them a special cloud – one meant just for me. It positions itself above my head, waiting for me to step outdoors without my rain-gear. And when I do, it lets loose a rainstorm that has the potential to turn into a full-fledged hurricane – the kind of storm that can easily wash a person down the street and into the nearest storm drain.
Anxiety in anticipation of April’s deluge begins in March. My PTSD-induced hyperviligence usually has me reviewing April’s schedule, making special efforts to avoid exposing myself to people and situations that, with my personal cloud in place, might give rise to the perfect storm. Once ready for the rainy season, I put my rain-gear. And I wait.
If I string all my Aprils together, you might call them a series of unfortunate Aprils. I’ve been known to refer to April as the Cursed Month. Unfortunately, my birthday occurs on the same day as the Birthday Curse – April 24th. A number of outrageous, and unbelievable things has happened in April or on the day of my birthday. It’s unfair. I keep threatening to change my birthday, but never do. There are some things a person can’t change, and a birthday seems like one of those things. My therapist and husband think I should adopt a new birthday – people in AA do it. But what date should I choose?
I wondered if I was being unfair in my negative feelings toward April. So I tallied things up. And guess what? My feelings are more than justified. Here’s a subset of events (in my life) from April:
- jumped and beaten to a pulp by a group of older kids (Age 11/Grade 5)
- first “agreement” with my mother (Age 20)
- dream job ended (Age 46)
- C-PTSD diagnosis (Age 47)
Within seven (7) days of my birthday:
- raped (Age 19)
- went NO CONTACT with my mother (Age 46)
- medical diagnosis confirmed – recessively inherited form of SpinoCerebellar Ataxia, with the possibility of ALS4 overlap/SETX gene mutation (Age 48)
- mother-in-law died (Age 49)
On my actual birthday:
- sexually harassed by male classmate (Age 9/Grade 3)
- neighborhood pedophile began to actively ”groom” me (Age 12/Grade 6)
- found out my (first) husband was cheating (Age 27)
- first abuse by my boss occured (Age 45)
- 50th birthday DENIED (50/2013)
- spent recovering from (misdiagnosed) mild TBI (52/2015)
With all the changes in my life over the past 18 months, I was determined to put a stop to April’s hurricane season. April was going to be a drama and trouble-free month. I’d start the month on a happy note – attending my first fiber convention. And I’d end the month on another happy note – with a real birthday party. It would be a proper birthday party – the kind everyone (who thinks birthdays are important) would be happy with.