Last year, I had an amazingly bad birthday. I contracted Lyme disease just before my birthday and started the antibiotic regimen on my birthday. Plus, I got the flu. So I spent my last birthday in bed with Lyme disease and the flu. It was at least as miserable as it sounds. This year was worse.
I was physically fine for my birthday this year. No flu. No Lyme. I still spent way too long in bed, though. You see, this year, I’m unemployed and nothing in my life is going right. I’ve already talked a bit about being unemployed, but I want to emphasize just how stressful it is. That stress means I’m fighting depression again. I’m battling. Some days are better than others, but my birthday was a bad day.
The general state of the world isn’t helping at all. The Iowa Caucuses were a disaster. The impeachment trial couldn’t have gone better for Trump. The press seems to have decided that Bernie would be good for ratings. The British economy is going to tank. There are still kids in cages. And we’re all going to die from Coronavirus. It’s a disaster.
The things that are supposed to bring relief aren’t there for me either. I love baseball. It’s an escape. It’s supposed to be fun. But my team is currently neck-deep in a cheating scandal. They fired their manager for that cheating, and haven’t made a move to replace him. And, on the eve of my birthday, they traded the best player they’ve had in decades. If you’re not a sports fan, you probably don’t understand, but Mookie was a joy to watch. He made every game exciting. One headline described the trade as the Red Sox spitting on their fans, and that’s completely accurate.
So, I guess what I’m trying to say is that being 45 really sucks so far. I guess the up side is that it can only get better from here. Let’s hope my next birthday isn’t quite so bad.