My birthday was yesterday, and it was basically a regular day with 2.5 hours of alone time in the morning, thanks to my in-laws. I enjoyed it by grabbing some food and eating it in bed, taking a hot, quiet shower, and doing a little crafting. The rest of my day was spent being a mom.
I remember when birthdays used to be the most special day of the year. There was always a party, just for me. Decorations, food, music. Tons of friends coming over to celebrate my day. This was high school, mind you. As the years went on, and I got older, birthday’s became less important to those around me. In college we’d all drink and laugh and maybe go dancing. For my 21st birthday, which should have been the craziest birthday of all, we went to a bar and only me and one other friend wanted to revel in the festivities (music and beer). The other three people didn’t. I was bummed… and that was the beginning of the end for birthdays.
Now birthdays are a day where I take care of kids all day, just like every day before that, and I get more dings on my phone from Facebook friends wishing me a happy birthday. Most of whom do not speak/type to me any other day of the year, which just ends up making me more upset about my birthday. I’m not sure why, but I assume it’s because these people want to make me feel like they still care about me because Facebook reminded them that it was my birthday, not because they actually care.
Maybe I’m just bitter, and this depression is eating away at any joy I might possibly feel in life.
So, yesterday was my birthday, and it was nothing special.
I hate saying that, I hate feeling that, but my goal is to be honest right now while I’m going through this. Hopefully a day will come when I will be so glad I no longer feel this way. I’ll laugh and enjoy my birthday regardless of the amount of attention it’s given. Maybe, someday soon, I’ll enjoy the little things again.
Wifey, Mommy, and What Have You 