I’m pretty sure that everybody has had an episode in their early life that has affected them in a way that will endure until they pass onto the next world.
Some have had positive experiences that they will gladly tell you about in reverent tones. Others have had something horrible happen to them and they won’t discuss it with anyone. Then there are those who’s life-altering experience is terrible, they won’t talk about it until the time comes when they can no longer remain silent. When these poor folks tell you what they’ve been living with for years upon years, your reaction is, “Holy Crap! You’re goofier than a box of rocks!”
My dear readers, I fall into that third category. Since you already know, because I’ve repeatedly told you, I’m a few flowers short of a bouquet; you’ll refrain from the “box of rocks” comments.
On December 5, 1960, my father died. It was his 60th birthday. He. Died. On. His. BIRTHDAY! I’m sure it was a miserable, horrible surprise (a massive heart attack at work) for him but it left an indelible mark on me, his daughter. For 53 years, I’ve lived with the absolute terror of my 60th birthday. I know that my fear is irrational. My fear of clowns is also irrational but it’s there and no matter what I tell myself, clowns still make me pee my knickers a little every time I see one.
For a long time, it was just a vague thought that would swirl around in my brain. I wasn’t too worried because I was only 19, 27, 34, 47, but now that my 60th birthday is smack dab in front of me, I am crazier than usual. My family and friends are constantly “pooh-poohing” me when I bring it up (which is daily since January) but I think they are secretly scared shitless. The lunacy of an already on-the-edge-post-menopausal-white-woman could be epic. I’ve requested no cards, no gifts, no cake, and no mention of my birthday at all. I’ve told them this isn’t a ploy – PLEASE, do not do one thing to mark the occasion. I am, excuse the pun, deadly serious. I’ve made an attempt to get all my ducks in a row, just in case, but per usual there are a bunch of stragglers wandering hither and yon. I guess I shouldn’t worry too much about them ‘cause should the worst happen, I’ll be far from caring.
So, there you have it. My deepest, totally wacko, life-changing event. You can now feel relieved that you aren’t the most insane person you know. Hopefully, I’ve made you happier about your own irrational fear. I’ll be awake from 11:59 pm September 21 through 12:01 am September 23. Why tempt fate? If you see me online, please just say, “Hi!” ... Birthday wishes will not be accepted.