I don’t hate my birthday but I don’t love it either. For most of my life it was a day my father purposefully darkened with his silence or absence. I woke up with a lump in my throat and a reminder of where I was last year. All that shouting and screaming, the lack of sleep and the gifts I could never really wear. And I drank to forget last year this time.
I had a revelation while attending a music festival. Most men I encounter do not really care about me as a person. They care about how I make them feel, what I remind them of. This is not said out of self pity at all. Being present for another person matters to me.
I ask questions, we walk, sometimes there’s tea, whiskey, books and music. With women I listen and watch. I got tired a few days ago, as the reminders being thrown in my face were so loud I could not ignore it, write or sing what I know I once felt away.
A funny question was thrown at me a few days ago, ‘Where is your heart Auriol?’ I don’t know anymore. Perhaps after tonight or after this album is done I will have answers.
I just know that it has become harder to accept what I easily give others. Connection, a way to see and feel clearly.
All I can do right now, the only thing that will keep me sane is….sing. As I know this time around…this year, this birthday….I am surrounded by people I know love me, who see me and who don’t require me to change anything to fit into their world.
My song for the day? Jah Work by Ben Harper. That should sort me out yes…