Pgh Lesbian Correspondents

October is my birthday month -Yay!

Last year, my birthday  (53) was the first ‘occasion’ while I was homeless and couch surfing with friends.

They were lovely. Cooked me a meal I chose, made me a cake from scratch. But I fled the table, overwhelmed by sadness and a tidal wave of all that I had lost.

This year, I will be in my own home with my cats and control of my life. I can buy my own meal, order my favorite cake.

I cannot invite people to my home. I will not have a car to go to a meal or pick up a cake.

It matters to me that people acknowledge my birth and my perseverance into year 54. I struggle with feeling like I should even exist – not in a suicidal way, but an existential way in that my parents should never have had children.

Maybe I’m selfish or childish, but I want a birthday filled with activities and delights. One year the person I was dating brought me French toast sticks, then took me out to lunch where the waiter presented me with his gift, then we took a walking tour of the town, ending with a surprise party with my grad school mates at our local bar.

I still have the bracelet, but not the man I was dating.  I also have several of the gifts from that party 31 years ago.

When I turned 30, almost no one came to my self-hosted party.  For my 40th, my wife organized a surprise party at Nicky’s Thai Kitchen that was superb. I was genuinely surprised.

I turned 50 during COVID isolation so had a modest day.

It is hit or miss. I’m hit or miss.

But I’m still here. And I fought to reclaim my life, my home, and my future. I’ll be grateful to eat Giant Eagle birthday cake from the box while indulging in my annual viewing of ‘When Harry Met Sally’ in my home.

It feels impossible to have a big birthday and ungrateful to want one.

My sincere wish is for donations to my ‘Legal Defense Fund’ via bit.ly/HelpLGBTQBlogger. All I truly want is the security and peace of mind that comes with knowing the legal fees are covered.

That fear gnaws at me day and night. I worry about being homeless, about my cats, and about being alone in the world.

I resent having to deflect everything to that purpose, but survival is paramount. The calvary is you. These situations are so collectively awful that I must turn to everyone I’ve ever helped and just plead.

Please help me. Please celebrate me. And please help me to continue finding joy and purpose in this life.