Birthday Anxieties

Ah shit. It’s that time of the year again - the day that I just dread. It’s not like I am telling myself that my existence is not worth celebrating or anything, but I find my own birthday to be bittersweet. When I was a kid, my mother threw together a gathering with all the older cousins that I abhorred and we ate cake. Every year up until I was around 11 I cried uncontrollably and would secretly wish as I blew the candles that my cousins would burn in hell (note: I love them now). Then there was my emo phase in middle school, where I would just mope around and think that my life was not worth acknowledging, trying my best to avoid civilization entirely. Throughout high school and even now, I feel pressured to be celebrating with friends, because that’s what normal people who love themselves do. Others find it a day to relax and enjoy having time to be alone.

Neither of those options appeal to me. Take case one in celebrating with friends. Friends are great and all but I always strain to think who actually appreciates me and who doesn’t when I am inviting people to this celebration. Who is worth reaching out to acknowledge this stupid day and who isn’t? What if I consider someone a close friend to share my birthday with but they don’t feel the same and end up rejecting me? By throwing a celebration and inviting friends, I have to start to analyze who in my social group is someone I care enough about, and who cares enough about me. It almost forces me to look at a truth I do not want to think about. It gives me anxiety because who the hell wants to think about what the meaning of ‘friend’ is? Who counts as a friend? Never mind the stress that comes with planning the entire damn gathering, you’re pressured to think about bigger life questions that you just don’t want to think about.

Then there is the alternative to being alone. Well I’m alone every other day of my life but don’t really notice it because I am constantly swarmed with work. But you are supposed to relax and enjoy your day alone. Does enjoying mean working on projects? Does relaxation mean bumming around, accumulating fat, and watching stuff on Netflix? Shopping when I am already so broke? This all sounds pretty terrible and sad to me.

The last alternative seems to be just pretending like it’s a normal day and forget about the fact that it is your birthday. But doesn’t this mean that your day of birth is insignificant and therefore you are a negligible smear of existence in this world? To forget is also extremely difficult (kudos to those who can do that), because Facebook reminds you, Sephora reminds you, and all of those trash companies remind you. You have to write your birth date on every damn application. If you are a timely person, you will always be aware of the date, so is it really possible to forget?

Well the question now is, how will you be handling your birthday this year, Jackie?

Meh.

A dinner with some people I am fond of and an absence of those whom have disappointed me with their commitment to our friendship. Simple as that.