Self-pity

I'm having a really rough time of it right now.

This has been a shitty year.  And it is almost my birthday and it just feels like it is a year of mistakes and sadness.

I survived.  But that's about all I can say for it.

I didn't realize how pathetic my life had gotten until Dotty came to visit.  We went to "our" bakery, which we go to whenever she is in town.  I also go there on my birthday and at the end of a real crunch season at work (provided I've stuck to my rules for eating sweets at work).  

My favorite bakery has stopped making my favorite treat.  And on one level, that is kind of not a big deal, right.  It's a fucking cupcake, chocolate with mint frosting.  What's the big deal?  And yet, my world has been a little shattered by the realization that I can't have this cupcake on my birthday.  And what is far worse is realizing how important this stupid cupcake has become in my life, because there just isn't a lot of good stuff in my life right now.  

On one level, I live a life or privilege and ease that so many people would envy.  I have enough money to buy anything I really want (but not everything I really want, but who needs that?)  I have autonomy, security and safety.  I own a beautiful home overlooking the water. I'm relatively healthy. What do I have to complain about?

But when did the highlight of my life become a god damn cupcake that I look forward to for months at a time?  What am I going to do on my birthday?  Last year, I took myself shopping at Macys and bought my fucking cupcake.  And that cupcake was lovely.  But I also had a lovely conversation with MaxEarnest.  But he stopped being interested in cyber-sex and he was in Europe and I was alone and I was so tired of being alone.  But now I'm even more alone. No MaxEarnest to look forward to; I don't even have a stupid cupcake.  I seem to have exactly what Obama conceded to the Republicans.

I walk along the water and I see so many people who have so little and I am in awe of how much I take for granted.  I know how silly it is that I feel sorry for myself. But the hole in my life keeps getting bigger.  It is a John-Dotty-MaxEarnest-cupcake-optimism shaped chasm.  And the tears come more easily.  

I think all I have left to look forward to for my birthday is taking a xanax that day.  That's probably how I'll celebrate. And that is maybe the saddest thing I've ever said.