I Hate My Birthday
Eight years into our relationship, my sweetie has bought me one birthday present and that was our first year dating. He regrets that to this day as I quickly set him straight. There will be no acknowledgement of that day.
I have always hated my birthday. While other little girls begged their parents for parties at the Bowling Alley, I was begging them not to throw me a party. My mother said, "you have to have a birthday party, otherwise, everyone will think I am a horrible mother." We compromised by having the worst parties ever. No decorations, Lousy treat bags. One game and then everyone out. My earliest memory is my mom bringing out the cake and people starting to sing "Happy Birthday" and I hid under the table and bawled my eyes out. According to my mom, I wouldn't come out and blow out the candles or anything until after everyone left. They ate cake, they opened presents and played games without me. After a few years, birthday parties became slumber parties so I made up some excuses why I could never have a party ever again.
I have hated every single birthday present I have ever gotten. Just because they were birthday presents.
One of my jobs had a tradition that we would all go out for lunch on a person's birthday. After five years, one of my colleagues asked why we never went out on mine. I told him I hated my birthday. He had a hard time believing it because he thought I was a narcissist. His exact words were, "but, you are so full of yourself."
It is true, my favorite expression is "back to me" and I love attention. I can't explain it, I just hate my birthday.
Life was good until stupid facebook came along. Stupid because I haven't figured out how to remove my birthday and I have tried. For a few years, I wouldn't look at facebook for the week before or week after just so I wouldn't have to endure seeing someone wishing me a happy birthday. Then, i realized that was being very rude to people who had taken the time to wish me a happy birthday. Those bastards. It has been horrid especially when it falls on a weekday and I have to interact with people who know it is my birthday.
It is ironic that one of my issues with my sweetie's family is that after 8 years, no one has cared to ask me when my birthday is. I wouldn't tell them because I hate my birthday, however, I would like them to care enough to notice that I was born at some point.
In this information age, everyone seems to know. My financial advisor sends me a card. Starbucks reminds me that I get a free beverage. Like that would happen. I can't even go to a casino because they know the moment I put in my card.
Yesterday was as good as a birthday could get for me. It was a Sunday. I only had to have personal interaction with the man I live with. Happily, that was minimal as he watched football in one room and I was in another.
I decided that I was going to approach the day from a place of "compassionate kindness". I was not going to judge my feelings but I was going to try and be mindful and live in the moment. I made my space as dark as I could, I let a scented candle, I listened to 80s music, and had a beverage. Everytime someone wished me a happy birthday, publically or privately, I thanked them instantly. I worked very hard to make sure that I was sincere in my thanks. I approached the day from a place of gratitude. I got through it and enjoyed moments here and there. I was proud of myself.
I have no idea why I hate my birthday. If anyone has any insight, I would deeply appreciate it. Life is too short to hate one day every year.
So, I got through yesterday. Deep cleansing breathe in and out. Everything was good. Until today. I don't know why but today is worse. I got through yesterday and today, major depression. I am glued to the couch and feel all the yuck that I can. My stomach is literally bloated and it is just yuck. I am so upset because I had so many plans for today. Damn depression.
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