Screwed, Blued, and Tattooed

The other day, a friend relayed a message to me from her friend, "Pat". Sadly, Pat is an addict who fell off the wagon and will now be serving time for crimes related to her relapse. Although she probably won't be able to read it in prison, she wanted me to know that my blog had kept her going during some of her dark times recently. It's weird to think that my self-indulgent little pastime has any sort of impact on another person, but it makes blogging feel a bit less selfish. If I can bring a smile to someone's face I kind of have to, right? With no further ado, then, here's a post that's all about me, but not in a self-centered way. :)

40 is happening really soon. Like, tomorrow soon. Luckily, I already dealt with any birthday-related crises last year, so this year is truly a celebration. I'll elaborate on the celebration in a moment, but I just need to touch on last year for the tiniest sec. Before I continue: understand that I am 100% OVER what I'm about to discuss. This is just the facts, ma'am. 

I got to have this awkward text exchange with my ex tonight:

• Him: I'd like to wish you an early birthday, and will try not to bug you the day of. I hope your whole week is amazing. 
• Me (after considerable deliberation on if and how I should respond): Thank you for the kind wishes...and for respecting my space on my birthday. Without dredging anything up, I'll just say that, as of last year, associating you with my birthday leaves kind of a bad taste in my mouth. Not trying to make you feel bad, just being honest.
• Him: Thank you for your honesty. I'm sorry about the taste...maybe another time we can discuss and change the flavor, share some perspective. Enjoy your birthday immensely.
• Me: 

Yeah, I've got no reply because I really don't care to go there with him. I don't need or want "perspective" because I already have plenty. To wit: My ex-husband left me on June 8 last year, four days after my birthday. Although it felt totally sudden to me, he had evidently been planning it for some time. Faced with the question of timing, he opted to leave the weekend after, instead of sometime before, my birthday. In his own idiotic man mind, he waited because he didn't want to ruin my day. I'm not the only one who thinks that's fucked up, right? I mean, there probably isn't any good time to suddenly leave your spouse, but given a choice, I would certainly have preferred sooner to later. I'm a "just rip the damn Band-Aid off" sort of person. Don't draw it out longer, don't try to soften the blow, don't try to make it look like everything is normal so you won't look like a bad guy for leaving right before my birthday, and for heaven's sake, don't waste money on gifts that I will just give away because they are reminders of dishonesty. 

Moral of the story to future love interests: if you're going to go, please just go. Once you do, though, you should know that I won't be waiting for you to come back. And now a little musical interlude, because you really can't have enough Ray Charles and it seems apropos: 

Granted, that last trip around the sun started out pretty shitty for me. Here's the thing about shit, though: it makes things grow. Believe it or not, I am glad I went through it. I'm so much stronger now than I ever was when I relied on my ex for personal growth. Although I never felt unhappy in my marriage, I know that I am truly happy now. It's easy to wake up every day with a smile because - I've got this, and it's worth celebrating.

Just how does MathMercy commemorate her emotional rebirth at 40? A phoenix tattoo, naturally! Symbolism? Tons. Kitty cats? Two. Flames? Hell yeah. 

Mercy Kitty Phoenix

I also used turning 40 as a good excuse to go wild with my hair:

Embracing my "blue-hair" status

Totally out of character, I am also having a birthday party for myself at 8pm Saturday 6/7, Jules Maes Saloon. Come on down and say hello. They have lots of pinball! There is also pool and air hockey, but...PINBALL. 

Let's see: Tattoo, check. Blue hair, check. If I got some action, I could claim screwed, blued, and tattooed for my birthday! Two out of three ain't bad, though, right?