Birthday blues

Every year around the month of June, I become uneasy. It’s not because I worry about the beautiful weather, summertime women, or the family vacations. I am uneasy because my birthday is in June. The definition of a birthday is “The anniversary of the day which a person was born, typically treated as an occasion for celebration and the giving of gifts”. As my 23rd birthday approaches, I find myself completely overwhelmed with anxiety.  Even without my anxieties, I don’t really enjoy my birthday as much as others might. I don’t have any problems with celebrating other people’s birthdays or them celebrating it for themselves, but my birthday? It just isn’t my thing. For me, I believe it is more a day for my mother to celebrate because her child is another year older and the fact that she brought me into this world.

-In no way am I saying that I am ungrateful for life. I just believe that I don’t need a specific day to remind myself that I should be celebrating life. Life should be celebrated every single day, should it not? Every morning I try to wake up grateful for my health, food, family, and the roof over my head. Some days I forget but I have been practicing to remember.

-Additionally, I am not fond of the idea of all that attention. If you don’t know this about me, I’m an introvert for the most part. The thought of all the spotlights, parties, and people singing “Happy Birthday” to me as I sit there awkwardly fiddling my fingers and praying for it to end only stresses me out even more. 

-Another reason is because I tend to make bad decisions on my birthday. It all starts when I receive my birthday wishes from everyone on social media. Birthday wishes that are sent after people are reminded by Facebook, Instagram, or some other application. Afterwards my head is filled with this sort of entitlement. I start to think today is my day and that I should do this or buy that. I become extremely consumeristic and tend to buy so many unnecessary things. On top of wasting my money, I find myself stuffing my face with cake, which I always regret the next day.

-Then comes the same conversations that physically and mentally drain me. “What am I going to do for my birthday? What do I want for my birthday? How old will I be turning?” It’s like a broken record of the same questions. People ask about my life plans only to disappear until next year and ask me the same questions again. I know I’m more than lucky to have people that care so much about me, but I would rather go back into my cave to hide and wait for the day to be over.

I know most of you won’t agree with this post, but this is just my opinion about my birthday. As sad as this may sound, I believe my best birthdays are spent with my family and girlfriend at home doing nothing. I know, I’m lame. Besides being an introvert, I feel like I’m just an old soul in a young person’s body. Maybe that’s why I don’t enjoy my birthday?