Happy Birthday!

We had a fight with my wife today. Three.

We don’t usually fight, even despite this marriage is mostly often shite.

What helps me, the understanding marriage is mostly shite in general. Finding a proper (right) person may help make it less shit, but it won’t be bushes and roses anyway.

Also, kids help endure that shitshow. Having a kid with disabilities ‘helps’ in a way.

We had three issues today.

Sink

First being her being unhappy I threw up in the bathroom sink. You should used toilet for that. I tried to explain I was fucking sitting on the fucking toilet at the moment. I was lucky I did not threw up while sleeping, because I got quite a lot of alcohol right before.

I cleaned the entire bathroom during the early morning. It was 2-to-3 am, when I was there, and I did a fucking mess. Then I woke up at 6 am (my usual wake up time is 6 am or 7 am these dyas). And I cleaned everything, keeping only some food inside the sink, which I cannot clean.

She’s unhappy I did not clean it since yesterday. Yesterday I was litereally dying, and today I was trying to recover, at least a little bit. Instead of allowing me to get some rest during the day, she woke me up with a happy birthday cake and one candle to blow. That was sweet, and Hnat’s approaching me with his ‘I’m going to make you a surprise, dad!’ surprise was the sweetiest thing of the day. Still, I’d very much prefer to wake up on my own, instead of being forcefully woken up for no real reason. She called me telling Nadia is on the balcony, and I should close it.

‘Where the fuck are you?’ was my thought. Why would you leave home and leave the kids alone, knowing they’re not to be left alone, especially Nadia, to throw the trash, and buy me (herself and the kids in the first place) a piece of cake. I mean, me having some rest would be much more appreciated than some gesture like that.

I had very little energy to clean that sink properly (it’s not really visible, when it’s covered with the cover), and just decided to attempt at that tomorrow, when nobody’s at home, and I’d have at least some bits of fucking headspace. For a couple of hours, so it’s not really enough for anything.

Airstrike

Second was me having issues with her.

That was the airstrike alert which went from yellow danger to red danger, with drone being right over our aparments block. I say ‘let’s go hide in the bathroom for a couple of minutes,’ and she’s ‘nah, who cares.’ She made me insane, the same type of insane when her bitch mother behaves the same way when I ask her to fucking belt my kids in her fucking car. ‘We don’t have car accidents here’ the bitch replies. She uses car seat belt only when she sees cops.

I absolutely hate her mother, and as an extend of that hate, I hate my wife too, because she has so much shit in her, inherited from her imbecile of a mother.

She think our apartment is super protected. It’s not. We’re protected by the probability, since we live on the ground-to-first storey (a bit in-between, but you can say it’s a ground floor). And our windows face the trees in the park, so the chance is only when something falls right before our window.

She made me super angry, I mean the fuck you cannot hide in a safer location for a couple of minutes? I’m at the point of not really caring that much if she’d willingly get killed by that death machine, but preventing me from lowering the chance for the kids, I’m fucking super angry at that.

I realise the chance of being killed is not huge, and our anti-air crew is incredibly skilled, we have those F-16s by now too. Still, spend two fucking minutes in the bathroom to just lower the probability of being injured by a broken windows’ glass!

Trains

Hnat started watching YouTube videos of trains, by CoasterFan2105 YouTube channel. The first time he watched it when we were in the mountains, our first family trip together. This year! Nadia was almost 7 by then, and it’s the first time we were travelling together.

He enjoys these videos too much. She told him it’s not normal he’s willingly watches these videos. Made me mad.

‘The fuck is that?!’ I ask. ‘The fuck that’s not normal? The fuck you tell the kid it’s not normal to watch these videos?’

‘There’s no story in these videos’ she replies.

‘Why would that be a problem?!’ I’m getting even more angrier.

I don’t remember her reply, because that’s just shit anyway.

She drunk like 100 ml of rum (the one I’ve been drinking Friday’s night, we have one bottle left). I do like that rum, but I’m not sure I’d be drinking it further. Maybe I will. So, she’s slightly drunk, and still, doesn’t change much, apart from me being angrier at her, since she’s not able to understand me properly.

The fuck is that makes sense? We watched these Transformers, and the storyline there is an absolute garbage. Yep, that makes sense for kids, since you don’t make a complex storyline for kids. I understand. Still, there areb many decent works of art, Wolfwalkers, Klaus, Song of the Sea, to name a few (all Nadia’s favourites). That Christmas (Nadia started it on her own, with the mouse! First time today!), good too.

Birthday

Solomia asked what’s wrong with me today. ‘Is that almost nobody greeting you with your birthday?’

This question made me very sad: my wife does not understand me, even in the slightest. That’s very sad, we’re past 8 years in this marriage.

It feels like she listens to me, but she does not understand the things I say, and why I say them. She sees that through her perspective — perhaps that’s pretty normal for all human beings — throught her traumas, and through t the stupid shit her in her had, that came from her incredibly stupid mother. That drives me nuts even more.

If I were to make an official statement to all my friends (or more broadly, to the people of my past), I’d say: guys, I don’t mind. Really. I mean it.

When I was younger, I did mind, and during some period of life, I even had some cult of the birthday for some reason. (I believe that some kind of a Russian culture the fucked-up ruzzian culture.) I was sad people don’t tend to know me, understand me, learn when my birthday is, and make an effort to remember it. Or even simpler, write it down somewhere, so they’d know.

First, people aren’t good at organising themselves. I’m mostly good at that, and what comes with the age, the understanding how different we all are. Something too simple for me is something very difficult for someone else.

Second, people aren’t good at taking care. Different people have different meanings of what and why the birthday wishes are for. Most people, don’t care.

Third, I don’t have really close friends. And fourth, I don’t advertise my birthday anywhere online, so they’d get reminded about it.

When I was younger, it was disappointing to not get a birthday wishes from a loved one (rather lovelorn), who simply forgot. Well, cannot blame her: we weren’t in relationships, and it was me who loved her, that wasn’t mutual.

It was disappointing for my sister to never write me anything, never calling. She has her bunch of life problems, and it’s a decent chunk, so I can understand. But it’s still disappointing.

It was disappointing that my school-time best friend never ever did anything on my birthday. Did he not care? Did he approached it differently? I don’t know.

I was taking too much attention about this whole birthday thing in my childhood, for some reason. Perhaps because there were nothing else to focus on. I was deprived on most things a kid might be willing to have, living like in a fucking prison. All I had, books. And I developed an early trauma by being scared I’d read them all and I’d die of boredom then. At least, I did not read all these wonderful books in Russian translation. I remember me reading the Treasure Island, and abandoning it, because I liked it too much. That’s weird. Also, each great book’s ending traumatised me, like I had someone close, some close friend, dying on me.

Also, I had a TV, and it felt like an endless stream of shit of an entertainment, so never made me be scared of me watching everything. It was just completely different.

I had my fair share of disappointment about this day. I had played with people tricking them into believing my birthday is some other day (and year too!) And was disappointed in them believing, taking the information on the internet at its face value. Never asking me explicitly in the first place.

I had a friend who tried to make it a special day for me. Well, I had few of them, including that girlfriend, who couldn’t remember the exact date of my birthday, but still making an effort to make something for me. All gone now. We were just a bunch of kids back then, weren’t we?

These days, approaching forties, I don’t feel like it’s something special and it should be that way. I’m not feeling lonely and forgotten. Kids help with that. They won’t be around all my life to help with that, but a community may help either.

I hate my mother for making me into an idol, and sacrificing her life for me, as she used to tell me.

‘I have no other people!’ she used to say, with me replying ‘That’s not my problem,’ and that’s her problem she did not make any meaningful human connections throughout her life.

She had a great husband whom she ditched for no real reason, and so that’s not something I’m going to tolerate. She could build her life with him, she could find someone else, she could build a community, or take part in some. There are certain ways of dealing with this.

This birthday of mine, I’ve got as little birthday greetings as I could get. Only one person called me, my new local friend Mykola. My mother could call me, but I trained her to not call me ever, and it’s only me who calls. And I have no energy for her, since every interaction with her takes away my energy, it never brings me any. Unfortunately.

I’m fine, I’m fine.

No, really, I mean it. Sincerely, I don’t mind. It’s so great that the English language has them phrases different ‘don’t mind’ and ‘don’t care.’ I do care, but I don’t mind. There are people who sincerely wish me the best, and they have their right to forget me, or just miss to greet me. They would feel sorry, and I’d want them rather not. That’s not a big deal, missing someone’s birthday. Don’t feel sorry about that. Don’t feel ashamed, or experience any other negative emotions. That’s not something you should do.

It’s sad I lost most of my social connections these days, but I take it stoically, pragmatically. I’d make new ones over time, and it’s normal. Especially when you live half a planet away. Internet does not magically make these people around, it only produces this illusion of closeness. Espeically when you’re connected through these pesky instant messengers. Or worse, social networks.

I guess that’s mostly normal, to have little social life, for parents like us. Considering all the factors.

Yesterday, I was rather pretty happy there are not much people to force themselves onto me at my day. I was trying to survive the intoxication, and to restore best I could. I’m happy I did not die, as these last war years, my birthday is associated mostly with the ‘well, at least I’d have this date beautiful on my gravestone, if I’d die today’ idea sprawling in my head.

18

A love of my life, whom I was super jealous of… when I learned she found another guy right when we were in our early relationships stage… (which felt super betrayal)

That guy was born right on the next day after me. I have no idea whether he’s older or younger (older, I guess, since I was too young for her, being 1.5 years younger). Not that I care give a single fuck today. Yet, it was very disappointing when she decided she’d date fuck and then date the guy, since I’ve been not believing her she did not fuck with him. ‘And since you’ve been patronising me for fucking him, I decided to fuck him.’

How silly it all sounds today. You do you, gal. You do you. I fucked that girl you’ve been jealous to not because you’ve been jealous towards her, but because I did have my feeling for her, and it was before I met you. Not the other way around.

Back then, twelve years ago, it was quite disappointing to have her call me from his Berlin flat, right on his birthday.