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My Story: Heavenly Birthday

A decorative cover image for the posts discussing my weight loss story.

[Content Note: Today’s post talks about death and illness, so if you’re not in a place where you’re able to read about stuff like this, I encourage you to give this post a miss and go check out some of my other stuff instead. We’ll kick it together some other time. Deal? If you decide to move forward w/ today’s post, and it brings up some difficult feelings for you, I encourage you to reach out to the peeps at the Crisis Text Line.]

As y’all may have learned by now, my mom died in November 2021. Here’s the original post, in case anyone’s interested. My life has been a hopeless, worthless clusterfuck ever since, w/ this job search being my forever lot in life.

Don’t even get me started on the hiring manager who sassed me less than a week after my mom died. I won’t say their name or their company. They’ll be a story for another time, believe you me.

Since it was just my mom and me, we’d celebrate each other’s birthdays w/ what we had. We didn’t have much money, so birthdays were just another day. In school, my mom would come to my class and bring treats from the old store.

‘Member being able to bring treats to school? Pepperidge Farm remembers. In all seriousness, I can totally understand why treats aren’t brought to schools anymore.

Since my mom’s birthday was during the summer, I remember making cards from construction paper and scraps of old patient round forms my mom would bring home from work.

As far as dinners go, we’d go to the restaurants, as was a common thing for us. They weren’t the exception or a rarity.

As I came of age, and learned to cook on my own, I’d make dinner for us. Senior year of high school, my mom lost her job, and it was a job she was miserable at.

Her unemployment ran out in 2004. We got by on my financial aid refunds. Otherwise, we were SOL until early 2006, living on the graces of a long-former landlord, when I found her the job she spent the rest of her working years at.

After that, it would be her beloved Domino’s pizza for her birthday. I’d also make cake, and one year in college, I made a breakfast pizza after I went up to class to turn in my paper. I even started work on it early so I wouldn’t have it hovering over my head for her birthday.

Last year, her hospice care team showed up w/ some ice cream, and I went to the store and picked up some of her favorite coffee by BLK and Bold. I had also spent the pittance I earned from the job I had at the time on the CD player she wanted.

The whole time, I was obsessing over this job search.

Today would’ve been my mom’s birthday. If she was still here, she’d be 73.

It’s all so unfair. So horribly unfair. I was hoping that since I got April Fooled w/ a sucky scam job on my birthday week, I’d have a real job in honor of my mom’s birthday, but that wasn’t ever gonna happen either.

Fuck me, huh?

I came across a post on social media from someone affiliated w/ the same tobacco company whose products hooked my mom and my uncle as teenagers, and those same products ended up killing her. The post was about them celebrating a little kid’s birthday.

I won’t say what social media site I found it on, or the person involved, and I won’t say the company’s name either. They ain’t worth it, or another second of my time.

That post filled me with rage as I found it, and pounded out a dozen more applications to even more jobs through the tears.

There they were, in their lives of super luxury, celebrating birthdays and holidays. Their products took a birthday away from my mom, and took holidays away from her.

How can they live w/ themselves?

I couldn’t, can’t, and won’t. Fuck this industry and the horse it rode in on.

I’m so sorry, Mom. You deserved better than this shyt, and I’m sorry you reached a point where you couldn’t and wouldn’t quit. This wasn’t your fault. Now I know these companies engineered their stupid, pointless products to be as addictive as possible.

Happy heavenly birthday, Mom. It’s better than my real birthday was and ever will be.

Over to you, readers. How’re you holding up? You been through something like this? If so, I’m so sorry. Either way, I’d love to hear your thoughts and takeaways, so drop em like they’re hot and let’s talk.

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