Birthdays

Volume 2

🌻From Pain to Celebration by Breaking Chains - Birthdays🌻

Birthdays & Holidays hold a deep meaning for me, rooted in a past where they were more a symbol of absence than celebration. As a child, I didn’t have birthday parties or even birthday cakes. I remember them for my brother and sister, though. I can still picture their happy faces, surrounded by cakes and presents, moments of joy that somehow always seemed just out of my reach.

My childhood was not one of celebration. I was a pawn, a nightly slave cleaning strip joints after closing time, used as a hostage in armed robberies, and subjected to things too painful to recount here. My value was measured in the money I could generate, not in the love a child deserves. I was the punching bag, the scapegoat, the forgotten one. When I asked why I didn’t have birthday parties or cakes, I was told those were for "worthy and good little boys and girls." The message was clear: I was neither.

There was one birthday cake made for me, but it wasn’t meant to celebrate. It was made as a tool of cruelty. I remember that day clearly. My 13th birthday. Instead of candles and wishes, that cake was smashed into my face. The reason? My mother blamed me for something horrible my stepfather did. She said I deserved it. That memory of betrayal is etched into me, a reminder of how even something as simple as a birthday cake could be twisted into an instrument of pain.

But the story doesn’t end there. As a mother, I poured my heart into my children’s birthdays. I wanted them to feel the joy I never had, to know they were cherished and celebrated. It’s funny how some of those details I obsessed over have faded from their memories, while others linger like a warm hug. I watched them blow out candles, open presents, and laugh with friends, feeling both a pang of jealousy for the child I was and overwhelming happiness for the mother I became.

Now, as a grandmother, I watch my grandchildren experience the birthdays I dreamed of as a child. It’s amazing to see the joy in their eyes, the love in those moments. I wasn’t a perfect mother—I was pregnant at 17, learned much through trial and error, books, and the grace of walking angels who crossed my path. But one thing I know I did right was making sure birthdays and holidays were a huge celebration. My children might not always say it, but I see it in the way they celebrate their own children now. They even make my special day special, something I never could have imagined back then.

Growing up the way I did, there were chains—chains of dysfunctional behavior that had to be broken. The "birthday chain" was one of them, and I am so grateful it’s shattered. Now, birthdays in our family are a testament to resilience, love, and the power to rewrite our stories.

The Unique TonyaLe ©2024TonyaLe

( picture below is my brother's birthday if you zoom in you can see the buries on my arms)