Hi everyone! I know I’ve been practically dead to Steemit this week— not that I was THAT active before, but still. This week has been #hectic: my laptop is at the tech and work… well, I haven’t left work before closing time since last week.
Don’t worry too much, though. In the meantime, I’m borrowing my mother’s laptop; she rarely uses it as she prefers the comfort of her Tablet. Let’s just hope lights don’t go out while I’m using it (battery is damaged).
You may be wondering how any of this relates to the title— well, the truth is that it doesn’t. However, it provide some context.
So. My birthday is nearing, and it is a tradition that no birthday of mine can be filled by joy.
You see. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been always either neglected or controlled. My parents always prioritized work over me. Now, I understood why: we were middle-lower class when I was younger, and currently we’re middle-upper class. In Venezuela that’s a huge difference, even if you’re no millionaire.
My parents explained why they did things and I was a pretty reasonable child, so I didn’t ask for things I didn’t need, tried my best to not be a bother and did my chores (by the age of nine I already cooked, washed and ironed my clothes, cleaned the house, had my own set of house keys and haven’t lost them in over a decade, etc). My whole schedule and (non-existent) social life worked around my parent’s.
Honestly, they could’ve done way worse than me— my half-brothers are a living proof of it, really. Yet, they still used my understanding to guilt-trip me whenever I felt brave enough to ask for something.
Look. Ever since I’ve been born, my birthday goes down a certain way: a) the date is downright forgotten, b) it is passed off as an unimportant day and c) people remembers it— and give me grief for it. ‘Wait what?’ Well, you see, the people who remembers usually are strangers. Or ‘friends.’ Mom didn’t remember often when I was young, but started to be more aware once I entered college.
Anyway. Outsiders, especially when I was in elementary, usually wished me a happy birthday and then grill me with questions: 'what will you be doing?' 'What have your parents in store for you?' 'Did you enjoy your cake?'
These things are alien to me. I was lucky if they wished me happy birthday, even luckier if I got a present— I think I’ve only had cake three times, and I’m just a year from reaching my mid-twenties, which I find quite telling. So, you must get how awkward it was for young me to explain this to others. I tried to don’t let it bother me, but people either didn’t understood or were indignant and ranted to me, as if I wasn’t aware that it wasn’t normal by the way everyone rubbed it on my face each year.
It made me feel miserable for years. Heck, there was a time I snapped at my friends just for wishing me happy birthday; it was bad of me, but I was TIRED and didn’t want to go through that shit again.
From 2016 on I’ve been more at ease, as that third particular scenario has taken place and my birthday has actually been remembered. The bad memories remain, but I’ve started to look at the date with less pessimism and hatred.
Now, I don’t expect people to start giving away gifts or throwing me parties. My family hardly will change at this stage— 2016 was a fluke, I got an actual, AWESOME present because I turned down their pity money and refused to ask for anything for a week or so (now, don’t get me wrong, money is good… when the money is worth anything. What my mother wanted to give me hardly would’ve bought me breakfast on campus). I gave up because my father was annoying as hell, uncharacteristically demanding I chose a birthday present, but I didn’t hold my hopes up when I named my price.
Joke is on me ‘cause I ended with my first graphic tablet, which happens to be a Wacom. Double joke because my father wanted to buy a freaking Cintiq. He didn’t because I was like: that thing costs $500 and I don’t have enough livers for the black market, bitch.
That was great, sure. But it was a once in a lifetime situation and I can’t find myself to care. I’m not hungry for my parent’s validation anymore; if I’m acknowledged, fine but they’re not the center of my whole universe.
I am an adult. And unlike past years, I HAVE money. Money that I did sweat my ass working off to earn, so it’s only fair that I decide what to do with it amiright?
I chose to spoil myself a little.
I can’t buy myself, say, an IPad. I certainly need one, as my shifts are hellish and it’d help me to keep up with drawing; however, that’s still a faraway goal I'll slowly make my way to.
What I could give myself, though? Something I both desired and could use? I didn’t have to put much thought into it, the answer showed in my dash one day— Turns out, Clip Studio is having a summer sale (- 50% guys!) that ends in my birthday’s eve.
Talk about right timing.
Now, $25 I could afford. What’s more, I’ve been lusting after Clip Studio ever since my trial period ended. It was the perfect opportunity.
I’m now a proud license owner of this powerful software, and I’m only waiting my laptop return to go wild :3
Happy birthday to me, indeed.
