This year, I tried to have a big party for my 30th birthday and it didn't pan out the way I had hoped. This birthday was a huge frickin' deal for me. I was telling absolutely everyone that it was my 30th birthday and come to the South Side! I must have told over 30 or so people. I had three people show up. That fucking hurt and when we got home that night, I couldn't stop crying. I mean, I cried for hours. I felt rejected and depressed that all of my good friends lived so far away.
That night, while I was crying to my boyfriend about how only three people showed up and I invited dozens, I kept saying to him in my drunken stupor: "I'm 30 now. I'm only 5 years away from my mom's age when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. I'm only 5 years from it." I also kept telling him how much this birthday meant to me and the fact that so many people blew me off showed me who my real friends were. I still get choked up thinking about how horribly rejected I felt that night. I even told a friend of mine, and I still mean it, if I have a housewarming party - I sure as shit am not inviting dozens of people like that again.
I don't know if my crying, depressed fit to my sweetie was a bit of a premonition. I wasn't just crying about the fact that I tried to throw a party and it was a COMPLETE AND TOTAL BUST, it was the fact that I was 5 years from my mom's age when she was diagnosed. I doubt I had a "feeling" that I was going to get breast cancer this year. Maybe I just knew something was off because it was.
Back in April - my 30th birthday was a big deal to me because it signalled the end of me celebrating birthdays. Now, I am still of the mindset that I am done celebrating birthdays. You know why: I have a new birthday now. Every year when I have a cancer-versary, that is my new birthday. Age is nothing but a number, but cancer-versaries - those are milestones and something worth celebrating.
My first cancer-versary will be an intimate party of close friends and family.