As I sit here in my office, the only person at school on Rosh Hoshana, I am feeling the post-birthday blues. I'm missing my friend Carin. I'm missing Dana's annual birthday greeting (he loved birthdays and was always the first to wish someone a happy birthday -- sadly something I didn't appreciate about him until his virtual funeral earlier this year). Missing my grandfather, as we used to have a combined family birthday celebration.
My exchange student, Yoran, presented me with a bar of good Belgian chocolate for my birthday. I was touched. It is clearly something he brought with him that he planned to give us for Christmas (he already gave us our welcome chocolate with the promise of more coming later). Here is an 18-year old who has only known me for a week and knew exactly what would make me smile.
Put that in contrast with people who have known me my entire life, or their life, or most of our lives, yet, could not come up with a present that would make me smile.
Don pointed out last weekend we went into NYC to see the Van Gogh exhibit and dined at a French restaurant. All true. Behind that, though, I bought the tickets to Van Gogh, I made the dinner reservation, I planned the outing. He would also point out we went to Grounds for Sculpture with Yoran. Again, I'd point out I made the reservations.
Ashley did text me a birthday greeting at 12:15 am. I asked her to FaceTime and set a time of 4:30 to see her. Between classes and play rehearsal, I knew her time was limited. At 6 she said she had an emergency meeting at 5 and was sorry. I was sorry I wasted 90 minutes waiting for her to call and didn't live in the moment. All because I wanted to see her smiling face.
Neither Don nor Ashley likes surprises, but I do.
That's where the disconnect lies.
That's where the disappointment festers.
I want to feel special. I don't feel special.
It was another reminder I can't count on Don or Ashley for emotional support, yet they expect me to provide it to them.
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