I had a rough night last night. One of the roughest I’ve had in a long time. I was pinned to my bed in complete abject fear, sure that I was the most unworthwhile, most uninteresting, uneverything person on the face of the earth. It was a case of the mean reds, the likes of which I hadn’t seen in a good long time.

Not to be outdone by my conscious self, my subconscious decided to join in the mockery. I dreamt that the hot guy from R&D asked me out, only to be disappointed by my response. It seems, in the dream, I did not accept with the level of enthusiasm he had hoped for. I spent the rest of the dream trying to get to tell him how very much I was looking forward to our rendezvous, only to fail miserably.

I woke up feeling much like I did when I went to bed, feeling utterly useless and worthless.

But I had hopes for the day. You see, my sister was to go give birth to my newest nephew. She went to the hospital at 8 a.m. this morning so the doctor could break her water and start the baby-having process. I had hopes that holding and witnessing the beginning of this new life will make me see the littleness of my own bigness or something. I at least hoped I’d cry.

Usually the mean reds are accompanied by a torrent of self-piteous tears. This time, no tears, and that’s what scares me.

So, after the wretched dream this morning I decided to escape my brain and head to work. There’s always work to do at work, and I thought that’d keep my mind off of my feelings of unworthiness. My cellphone was all charged up and I was ready to go. With the cellphone charged, and its volume on high, I was sure not to miss the call about the new baby.

After spending a few hours getting not as much as I hoped done at work, I decided to call the fam to check in. No answer at mom and dad’s. No answer on sister #4’s cellphone. No answer on the Stink’s cellphone.

Hmm. I started to worry.

I gather my stuff and bolted out the door. Sure that if something had happened, they’d have called me. I mean, they’d call me if the baby had been born. It was nearly 1 p.m. when I raced to the hospital, randomly dialing my family members’ phone numbers. Finally I got sister #4.

“Where are you,” I asked.
“On my way to the China Buffet in Burnsville,” she said.
“Why,” I asked puzzled that she’d go out when sister #3 was so close to having the baby.
“I’m hungry.”
“Ok.”
“You do know that she had the baby, don’t you?”
“No.”
“Oh, we must have forgotten to call you.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Sorry. She had the baby at 11:07 this morning. They’re gonna call him Nolan.”
“SHE HAD THE BABY TWO HOURS AGO AND YOU NEVER CALLED?!”
“She tried to call you at home, but you weren’t there.”
“I told you last night I had to work.”
“I know.”
“How come you never tried my cell phone?”
“Oh, yeah, I guess I just forgot. Sorry.”
“You guys suck.”
“Well, I thought mom and dad were the last to know, but I guess it’s you. We just forgot about you.”

And still I haven’t cried. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so hurt. On such a special day, when my family was all gathered in one room, they never even thought about me. They didn’t think to call. And people can’t seem to understand why I always feel so unworthy.